^TO^kJ 
 
 %-^i **** -^VffS ' ^Vg-,'^ 
 
 tewiiUafe.'iaw 
 
 :.*x\r^
 
 BERTRAND SMITIJS 
 BO f iff STCiRV
 
 Adrienne de i ortalis 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 Author of 
 Mr. Barnes of New York," "The Fighting Troubadour," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HURST & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1900, 
 
 by 
 A. C. GUNTER. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS 
 
 BOOK I 
 THE RUNAWAY BARONESS 
 
 I. The Grasp of Monsieur Vidocq . -5 
 II. The Passport of the Dead . . .14 
 
 III. The Montereau Boat . . . .25 
 
 IV. A Curious Night Ride . . . .37 
 V. The Metamorphosis of Madame la 
 
 Baronne 55 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 A PATRIOT CONSPIRATOR 
 
 VI. The Austrian Captain . . . .69 
 
 VII. The Voice in the Night . . . .78 
 
 VIII. "We Must Strike Before the Flowers 
 
 Bloom! " . . . . - . 92 
 IX. "How's That for a Close-fisted British 
 
 Lover of Liberty ? " . . . 103 
 
 X. The Pursuing Shadow . . . .114
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 THE TOUCH OF LOVE 
 
 XI. The Hand of Bolza . . . .130 
 XII. " Last Night You Did Not Think Me a 
 
 Child!" . , " . . .144 
 
 XIII. The Commotion at the Opera House . 151 
 
 XIV. " Now, It Is Thy Head or Mine! ". . 164 
 
 BOOK IV 
 THE NAKED HANDS OF THE PEOPLE 
 
 XV. The Young Lady Smuggler . . -179 
 
 XVI. The Arms in the Hay . . . .188 
 
 XVII. The Three Temptations . . .197 
 
 XVIII. Some Curious News from England . 211 
 
 XIX. Two Gentlemen Whisper in the Opera 
 
 Box ...... 223 
 
 XX. Madame lago ..... 234 
 
 XXI. The Populace Cast Down Their Idol . 242 
 
 XXII. A Letter that Shakes an Empire . . 250 
 
 XXIII. Saved By One Whiff of a Cigar . . 260 
 
 XXIV. "I Will Make Sacrifice!" . . .273 
 XXV. The Hands of the People . . .283 
 
 XXVI. The Fight for the Tosa Gate . . 292 
 
 XXVII. The Captain of Garibaldians . . . 301
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE RUNAWAY BARONESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE GRASP OF MONSIEUR VIDOCQ. 
 
 " Halt, in the name of the Law ! " cries a man in a 
 pursuing fiacre. 
 
 " For the love of God, drive on ! " screams a desperate 
 girl to the coachman of a hack racing nearly a hundred 
 yards in advance of the pursuing carriage, which holds 
 two mouchards of the galley-slave-chief-of-detectives, 
 Monsieur Eugene Frangois Vidocq. 
 
 So the two vehicles rattle over the stones of the Ave- 
 nue de Neuilly and reach the Arc de Triomphe. 
 
 Crouched on the cushions of her coupe the girl, her 
 slight form draped in the somber weeds of widowhood, 
 gazes back at the voiture that is following her, and 
 notes, though its horses are whipped remorselessly, it 
 does not gain upon the one in which she sits wringing 
 her hands, the gloom of the evening scarcely concealing 
 the pathetic terror of her beautiful, innocent, and almost 
 childlike eyes. 
 
 " HAJLT, IN THE NAME OF THE KING! " 
 
 " A hundred francs and you get me into Paris safe 
 from these awful men ! " sobs the girl, the sweetness of 
 her voice made harsher by the latent terror in it.
 
 O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Please, please, Monsieur, here's the money ! " A lit- 
 tle, white, ungloved hand slips into his brawny one a 
 couple of fifty-franc notes. 
 
 " There is a revolution in Paris to-night, and to-mor- 
 row there will be no King! " jeers the hackman back at 
 his pursuers. Then actuated a little by the helpless 
 beauty of his youthful charge, and still more by the 
 thought of five louis in his pocket, he whips his way 
 down the Avenue des Champs Elysees, and passing the 
 Rond Point gets nearer to the great boulevards of a city 
 convulsed by the commotion of dethroning a dynasty. 
 
 For this is the last night of Louis Philippe, the Re- 
 publican King; this is the last day of the bourgeoisie 
 Paris, which has rested so quietly since the Restoration. 
 
 Having grown tired of the tranquillity of a citizen- 
 king, it now desires some other government what, it 
 does not know anything to give it the vivacity of 
 change. So this night, the French Revolution of 1848 
 is on ! 
 
 An ovation to Monsieur Odilon Barrot has changed 
 a week ago into a cry against Monsieur Guizot. This 
 has grown into a wild rebellion of the undisciplined Na- 
 tional Guard and a fantastic populace against a king 
 who has not the courage to treat them a la Napoleon, 
 and feed them with grapeshot and musket balls. 
 
 The political ferment of the week has brought about 
 a financial ferment. Disaster has struck the Paris 
 Bourse. The first raflway furor has just run its course, 
 and the stocks of the newly built chemins de fers, con- 
 necting Paris with London, via Calais and Boulogne, 
 and those in course of construction from the capital of 
 France toward the Mediterranean, have depreciated 
 more than half their value on the Paris Exchange. 
 Financial ruin has stricken the trading classes, who 
 have invested their savings in them. This has expedited 
 the political ruin which is about to come upon the aris- 
 tocracy, who have flocked back with their king to 
 France after the last downfall of Napoleon. 
 
 So on this night, the twenty-third of February, 1848,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 7 
 
 the streets of the French capital are a mass of hurrying 
 citizens, soldiers robed in the gorgeous uniforms of the 
 National Guard, mingled with patriotic tradesmen and 
 blue-bloused workmen, singing the revolutionary songs 
 of the period, the "Chant du Depart," and " Mourir 
 pour la Patrie; " though a few, more bloodthirsty than 
 their fellows, are shouting " La Marseillaise," causing 
 the more soberminded Parisian shopkeepers to grow 
 very pale, for at that day this song was linked very 
 closely in French minds with the guillotine and political 
 massacre, a good many hearing it this night having lost 
 their ancestors, male and female, fifty years before, 
 when France, singing it, had become a maniac nation. 
 
 But whatever they sing or cry, whether it is " Vive 
 la Reform," or " Vive la Republique," or " Vive la 
 Nation," no one dares to cry " Vive le Roi." They are 
 all determined to make an end of the demure, placid 
 Paris of Louis Philippe ; that self-righteous bourgeoisie 
 Paris that Paul de Kock and Eugene Sue described, of 
 which Alfred de Musset sang, under whose surface 
 was an abandon and debauchery which would have 
 done honor to Sodom and graced Gomorrah; a city 
 where that celebrated cabaret of Father Guillotine 
 called " La Queue du Chat " (The Tail of the Cat), 
 flourished, in which its fantastic dancers passed the pipe 
 along, and gentlemen transferred the quid of tobacco 
 from their brutal mouths to the pouting lips of the 
 nymphs with whom they tripped the measures ;* where 
 the cancan raged, at the Grande bals d'Opera, under 
 Musard's inspiring music ; a dance that was intensified 
 at the Mabille, made more voluptuous at the Grande 
 Chaumiere, and developed into the wildest debauchery 
 at the Closerie des Lilas, as the young gentlemen of the 
 Ouartier Latin footed it with the prettiest etudiantes. 
 
 But no revolution takes place in Paris without in- 
 describable excitement and a blood letting, great or 
 small. So to-night the streets are full of the rabble of 
 
 * For further description of this peculiar olace see The Memoirs of Vidoco, 
 p. 345. ED.
 
 8 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Paris, and their friends, the National Guard, with guns 
 loaded; though about the Tuilleries and main boule- 
 vards, the half-hearted legions of a monarch even now 
 making ready for flight, are drawn up to presrve order, 
 and to support a government that is tottering. 
 
 A portion of these troops are stationed on the Bou- 
 levard des Capucines, to prevent the populace going in 
 mass to serenade Odilon Barrot. Around them surge 
 the passions of a Parisian revolution and the fantastic 
 fury of a Gallic mob. Cobblestones will soon en- 
 counter bayonets; blue blouses and red shirts are about 
 to grapple with the uniforms of the regular army under 
 the shadows of night, which, while they disguise the 
 horrors of such a combat, add to them an indefinite 
 vagueness that is appalling. 
 
 It is into this Paris that the frightened girl comes 
 flying along the Avenue Champs Elysees drawn by 
 tired horses that are being whipped to their utmost 
 speed by her cocker, who has received the greatest pour 
 boire of his life. She gazes abstractedly at the big 
 buildings on the main boulevards looming up before 
 her, in the gloom of evening. As her carriage leaves 
 the picturesque cafes and cabarets and the leafless 
 winter trees of the main drive that this night is quite 
 deserted all amusement places being closed and 
 Parisians not engaged in the revolution thinking it safer 
 to remain indoors the graceful figure of the fugitive 
 shivers, though not from cold ; for a raging i -ver is in 
 her veins. She is flying from everything that \ as made 
 her former life. She is turning her back upon a past 
 that has been unhappy, escaping from a future that she 
 feels will be more horrible a future in which she sees 
 the prison, perhaps even the executioner. 
 
 Her coupe is still pursued remorselessly by the car- 
 riage bearing the two mouchards. As they fly past the 
 bronze horse on the Cirque National, one of them 
 chuckles to the other : " We'll have our hands upon 
 the little widow in a jiffy. Old Vidocq values the child
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 9 
 
 at ten thousand francs. We'll catch Madame in the 
 Place de la Concorde." 
 
 But they do not catch " Madame " in the Place de la 
 Concorde. Fear dares more than avarice. The girl 
 widow shrieks to her coachman, " For the love of the 
 Virgin, and another hundred francs, drive faster ! " 
 
 " Madame, there is a great crowd. Tonnerre de 
 Dieu, I hear a pistol shot ! " 
 
 " Five hundred francs if you get me to Monsieur 
 Perrier's, in the Rue du Sender." 
 
 "Aha, the bankers?" 
 
 " Yes. There I'll pay you the money ! I swear it 
 by the cross ! " 
 
 " Diable, I'll take the chance! " 
 
 The coachman whips his horses through the square, 
 forcing back the hurrying crowd and nearly running 
 over one or two gamins, who do not fly from him rapidly 
 enough. So they speed through the square, and turn- 
 ing into the Rue de la Concorde dash from it into the 
 Boulevard Madeleine, followed by curses and sacres 
 from the enraged populace. 
 
 Here the crowd surges around them, and cuts off the 
 chasing carriage, the occupants of which come to grief, 
 a thief in the mob crying out, " Norn de Dieu, there's 
 Salache, one of Vidocq's fly catchers ! " With this, the 
 two officers are pulled from their fiacre, battered till 
 they scream, and are lucky to escape with their lives 
 from the assaults of a crowd, a good many of whom 
 bear no love to the great galley-slave-detective and his 
 myrmidons. 
 
 Looking back at the disaster that has come upon her 
 pursuers, the girl bursts into a childlike laugh and cries 
 to her coachman : " See ! M on Dieu, the crowd are beat- 
 ing our enemies ! " But this crowd is now packed in 
 front of her coach also, and prevents advance. Then 
 there is the sound of a distant volley up the Boulevard 
 des Capucines, and the mob rushes backward, some 
 uttering cries of fear, and others shouts of rage. 
 
 " Stop those damned horses, and knock that accursed
 
 1O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 coachman on the head ! " commands a gigantic, fero- 
 cious, blue-bloused sans-culotte. 
 
 But the Jehu is too quick, and, dashing into a side 
 street, drives north through the Rue Caumarlin, along 
 which street a number of the rioters also fly. 
 
 " Quick ! " calls the young lady, in whose brown eyes 
 fear is now dominated by excitement. " The five hun- 
 dred francs at the door of Monsieur Perrier. Hurry 
 for my life ! " 
 
 " Sapristi, I'll do it for my own! " mutters the cocker, 
 and whips up rapidly, going east through the Rue des 
 Mathurins, then turning south into the Chaussee 
 d'Antin, foolishly attempting to again make the main 
 boulevards. 
 
 But as he approaches the Des Capucines, suddenly 
 the roll of musketry comes solid and prolonged in three 
 awful volleys; the street they are in is thronged by a 
 Parisian mob, flying for their lives; fugitives, with 
 limbs dripping blood, pass them ; the ferocious women 
 of the slums, with hoarse cries of terror, surge around 
 them ; screaming men, in the uniform of the National 
 Guard, scurry from their brothers of the regular army, 
 whose volleys are now stirring Paris to madness and 
 sealing the fate of the king they defend. 
 
 Following this crowd, which has now become a little 
 thinner, staggers a bleeding woman, humbly yet neatly 
 dressed. With a moaning sigh she falls on the side- 
 walk beside the carriage, which the coachman has has- 
 tily pulled up. 
 
 Seeing this, the trembling fugitive in the interior 
 trembles no more. She calls quickly : " Let me out, 
 please let me out! There is a wounded woman in the 
 street." 
 
 In a second the door of the hack is opened, and an 
 angel of mercy is beside the sufferer. The subdued 
 light of a flickering street-lamp permits her to see 
 that the bosom of the modest dress is stained with 
 blood. " del, they have murdered you ! " cries the girl, 
 wringing her hands,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. II 
 
 " A shot in the body," murmurs the fainting creature, 
 then sighs : " If if I could only get home." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 " Number forty-five Rue Joubert." 
 
 " It is but a step from here, and in the right direc- 
 tion away from the troops," remarks the listening 
 cocker. 
 
 " Then help me to put her into the hack ! " cries the 
 lady. 
 
 A moment after the driver places the wounded wom- 
 an in the vehicle, and the young lady, getting in beside 
 her charge, strives to fan the pale face of the sufferer 
 with her handkerchief, as the coach is- turned to the 
 north again and driven rapidly up the Rue Chaussee 
 d'Antin. 
 
 Five minutes after they are in front of No. 45 Rue 
 Joubert. Its door is open. From it the concierge has 
 wandered to see the grand game going on this night in 
 Paris. 
 
 To her nurse the wounded woman murmurs : " My 
 room is au quartrieme, number twenty-six, the key is 
 in the concierge's loge." 
 
 Beckoning the coachman to her aid, the girl, who now 
 seems a ministering angel, with his assistance, lifts the 
 almost fainting woman from the coupe, and carries her 
 up three flights of stairs to a plainly furnished, yet 
 cleanly apartment. 
 
 Opening the door of this with the key taken from the 
 room of the concierge below, the two put the sufferer 
 upon a bed. 
 
 Then the young lady places a twenty-franc piece in 
 the hands of the cocker, and pleads : " Please go my 
 errand, Monsieur. A doctor, quick! Likewise some 
 brandy," suggesting : " You can buy it at a chemist's, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Also a priest," murmurs the wounded woman, " the 
 doctor will not aid me." 
 
 " The priest, also," begs the girl. " Get them all ! I
 
 12 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 will undress her. I am strong enough. Please go 
 quickly, for the love of mercy ! " 
 
 Gazing on her innocent brown eyes that are now 
 made more beautiful by womanly tenderness, and 
 noting the childish graces of his petitioner, the coach- 
 man mutters to himself : " Tonnerre de Dien, these 
 cursed mouchards are chasing for a thief a sister of 
 charity! " and so goes on his errand. 
 
 The moment the fellow has gone, the self-appointed 
 nurse devotes herself to her patient ; moistens the pallid 
 brow with water, which she takes from a pitcher ; fans 
 the gasping lips with an open book, and, finally, at- 
 temps to remove the dress of the fainting woman. But, 
 as she opens the bosom of the garment, and takes from 
 the neck of her patient a little leather portemonnaie that 
 is suspended from it by a narrow ribbon, there is re- 
 vealed a gaping bullet hole. Then she pauses, dreading 
 she may reopen the wound. 
 
 " Yes," says the woman faintly to her, " you can 
 do me little good though God bless you. I am bleed- 
 ing internally." 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 " I am sure of it." Then, her hands fluttering slight- 
 ly, she sighs : " My husband ! Oh, grace de Dieu! My 
 death will be cruel to him who hoped to feel my arms 
 within this week." 
 
 " Your husband," whispers the girl, " he is not in 
 Paris?" 
 
 " No. He is a lineman on the new railroad they are 
 running from Genoa to Turin. I was to leave to-mor- 
 row to join him in far away Italy. I had just obtained 
 my passport this afternoon, the one in the little pocket- 
 book that is in your hand ; I had been bidding some 
 friends good-by, and, returning, was caught in the con- 
 course in the Des Capucines. I could not get out of the 
 awful crowd. Suddenly there came a volley of mus- 
 ketry, and I fled. I was knocked down and trampled 
 on. Then there was another volley and singing bullets 
 everywhere. I struggled to my feet and fled on, and
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 1$ 
 
 as I ran death came to me. Something stung my back 
 but what has happened ? Where am I ? Yes I know 
 now in my room. Shot to death! Who will tell my 
 poor Gaspard ? " 
 
 " You mean your husband? Tell me his full name," 
 asks the girl. " I will write to him if it is so bad but 
 courage you will recover ! " 
 
 " No I I am dying now," sighs the wounded 
 woman. " You'll you'll find my name and his in that 
 pocketbook besides, la concierge can tell you. God 
 bless you for your goodness. But for the love of God 
 the priest ! Don't let me die without the priest ! " 
 
 As if in irony to her petition come the words of the 
 returned coachman : 
 
 " Madame, I could not find a doctor. They are all 
 out on the streets like the rest." 
 
 " Ah, but you have the brandy ? " 
 
 " Yes, I got a flask of eau de vie, at the druggist's in 
 the Rue d'Antin. They have two wounded men in there 
 and three dead ones." 
 
 " Thank you for the liquor! " cries the girl, and a mo- 
 ment after pours some of it down the throat of the faint- 
 ing woman, who now murmurs, almost despairingly : 
 "The priest?" 
 
 " Diable! I forgot the priest," mutters the hackman, 
 in half apologetic tone. 
 
 " Oh, God forgive you ! " gasps the sufferer. " You 
 can not save my body ; do a little for my soul." 
 
 " Please, please, Monsieur, drive for a priest quick ! " 
 implores the self-appointed nurse excitedly, then sud- 
 denly pauses, and, looking at the agonized face of the 
 dying woman, murmurs : " Too late ! Too late for the 
 priest ! " For blood is flowing from the pale lips of the 
 expiring creature, choking half uttered words. 
 
 Her fluttering hands are raised as if pleading to 
 Heaven. 
 
 With the quick impulse of convent education, the 
 watcher suddenly plucks a rosary from her white neck, 
 and places, with childlike faith, its cross upon the pal-
 
 14 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 lid lips of the dying. Clinging to it, these kiss the em- 
 blem of our Redeemer; the face twitching with the 
 agony of a departing soul, glows with hope of God, the 
 glazing eyes grow calm; then with a little, quiet flut- 
 tering sigh they close. 
 
 Uttering a shuddering cry, the girl sinks on her knees 
 beside the dead woman. The hackman, impressed by 
 the presence of the King of Terrors, crosses himself, 
 and mutters : " You will find me, Madame, down stairs, 
 waiting for you," and with quiet feet leaves the room. 
 
 Three minutes after the girl stops her prayers, which 
 have been offered up devoutly. Rising quietly, she 
 gazes upon the thing of clay before her, and murmurs 
 despairingly : " Your plight is better than mine ; oh 
 Heaven, if I were but you ! '' A moment later she almost 
 staggers, and gasps, " I I feel so faint ! " The excite- 
 ment of the affair having passed she remembers that 
 she has not tasted food since morning. 
 
 With this she hurriedly swallows a little of the 
 brandy the cabman had brought. The liquor seems to 
 burn her throat ; then surges through her veins, giving 
 her new strength. Her eyes flash with the desperate 
 courage of extreme youth before experience has taught 
 the dangers of the world. She mutters hoarsely, but 
 determinedly, " Now for myself ! " then wrings her 
 hands, and sighs : " Pursued as a criminal ! Mon 
 Diett, if my poor dead mother saw me now ! " Then 
 bursting into childish tears she staggers from the 
 presence of death. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PASSPORT OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Two minutes later, the girl, wiping the tears from 
 her blue eyes, steps into the room of la concierge to 
 notify her of the death of her lodger. The woman has 
 returned, but is in a state of drunken insensibility, and
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 15 
 
 a little boy who is looking in from the street states that 
 Mere Camouse has been carousing with her man of the 
 National Guard, who, to-morrow, will get drunk in the 
 Tuileries ; adding, in juvenile patriotism : " Vive la Re- 
 publique ! Vive Egalite ! Vive La Mort ! " 
 
 Not heeding the chatter of the gamin, the young lady, 
 hastily looking at a little jeweled watch, hangs the key 
 of number twenty-six on the wall, then steps out on the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 Here she puts a delicate hand into the rough grasp of 
 the waiting coachman, and makes him her friend by 
 whispering : " Thank you, Monsieur, for being so good 
 to her ;" then adds, her voice very eager, " Now at top 
 speed to Monsieur Perrier, Rue du Sentier ! " 
 
 The next minute she is being rapidly driven to the 
 house of the banker, for the coachman is growing anx- 
 ious to see the promised five hundred francs. 
 
 Rendered cautious by the episode of the Des Capu- 
 cines, he does not again dare the main boulevards, but 
 drives hurriedly through the Rues Provence and Richer 
 to the Rue de Faubourg de Poissonniere, and by this, 
 reaching the boulevard of that name, makes his way to 
 the Rue du Sentier. 
 
 Here in an old-fashioned house lives an old-fashioned 
 banker, who keeps his money counter under his eye 
 night and day, living in apartments above his place of 
 business. Fortunately it is not late, and there are still 
 lights in the house. 
 
 The massive door being opened to her knock, the girl 
 whispers to the old servitor : " Tell Monsieur Perrier 
 that Madame la Baronne de Portalis wishes to see him 
 immediately on business of importance." 
 
 Recognizing the visitor, the servant bows very low, 
 and immediately ushers her into a small room that is 
 part office and part library. 
 
 " I will announce you to Monsieur Perrier," he says, 
 and withdraws, as the girl sinks upon a sofa, making a 
 pretty picture of despondency. 
 
 For convenience in her flight she has discarded the
 
 16 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 long, dark veil of widowhood, and a pretty black hat is 
 perched upon her locks of waving brown hair, that, 
 under the lamp light, has occasional flickers of gold, 
 which contrast strongly with the dress of crepe, the 
 bodice of which, after the fashion of the time, is laced 
 tightly down the back, giving suggestions of graceful 
 outlines that are just taking the glorious contours of 
 exquisite womanhood. After the mode, the corsage is 
 open at the throat to display a mass of snowy cambric 
 and lace that shades the ivory nec_k of the young lady. 
 Below the waist the boufant petticoats of the period 
 extend the ample jupe that just permits a glimpse of 
 a petite slipper, for in school-girl fashion Madame la 
 Baronne has sat down upon one of her little feet. 
 
 As the girl muses despairingly, once or twice clinching 
 her fingers in nervous agitation, her brown eyes light 
 upon the pocketbook of the dead that, for safety, she 
 had attached by its little ribbon to her wrist. 
 
 " I must send this to the woman's husband," she 
 thinks, and remembering she has been told that his 
 address is within it, hurriedly opens it. It contains a 
 letter written from Italy, which states that it incloses 
 a draft to his dear Adele, for the expenses of her 
 journey to Genoa, and is signed " Pierre Gaspard 
 Pichoir." This draft has, apparently, been cashed, for 
 there are a few hundred francs in bills and small money 
 in the pocketbook. 
 
 Besides this, there is a passport, " issued to Adele 
 Eulalie Pichoir, occupation, seamstress, a French sub- 
 ject; age twenty-five, dark hair, black eyes, height five 
 feet six inches ; the wife of Pierre Gaspard Pichoir, also 
 a French subject, attached to the Bureau of Construc- 
 tion of the Genoa and Turin Railway, his present home 
 being Genoa. It permits her journey out of France, via 
 Marseilles, to Italy. On being viseed by any French 
 consul it allows the return of Adele Eulalie Pichoir to 
 France." 
 
 "Yes, even in my own danger, even in my own mis- 
 ery, I can not forget this poor bereaved fellow. I will
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 17 
 
 write now," thinks the girl, and closing the pocketbook 
 turns toward an open desk, but is interrupted by the 
 entrance of an old gentleman of precise manner, but 
 kindly mien. 
 
 Coming hurriedly in, he raises his eyebrows, and 
 ejaculates: " My dear child, my poor Adrienne! You 
 out upon such a night as this ? " 
 
 " Because it is such a night as this, I come to you," 
 falters the young lady. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! But how could your mother let you take 
 such a risk, and you just widowed? " 
 
 " My mother? You know my mother has been dead 
 over a year." 
 
 4< I mean your husband's mother. Of course she acts 
 as your mother now ? " 
 
 At this the girl's eyes flash, as she stifles a bitter jeer 
 by murmuring : " Oh, yes, of course, my mother-in- 
 law ! I had forgotten her. In the political excitement 
 of this awful day it is necessary that I get away from 
 France. I fear the horrible scenes of the Terror will 
 again take place in Paris. For this purpose, dear Mon- 
 sieur Perrier, I need money." 
 
 " And the rest of your family, where are they, my 
 child?" queries the banker. 
 
 " The rest of my family need money also ! " cries 
 Adrienne, desperately, accepting his suggestion. " My 
 mother-in-law, Madame de Portalis, even she of the 
 adamantine commercial brain, is frightened. Her son, 
 my late husband, the Baron Rayon de Portalis, received 
 his title from the King they are now about to assault." 
 
 " Yes, yes. Of course I know your family history 
 even better than you do, my child. Haven't I been the 
 banker of your family for thirty years? I am per- 
 fectly aware that your husband was ennobled on ac- 
 count of his discoveries in regard to the manufacture 
 of pottery. You have driven in this night from your 
 home at Sevres ? " 
 
 " Yes, taking the chance of receiving a bullet. A
 
 18 ADRIENNE DE PORtALlS. 
 
 woman died by my side ! She had been wounded in 
 the Boulevard des Capucines." 
 
 " Yes, I have just heard of that awful massacre," 
 murmurs the man of finance. " To-morrow there will 
 be more cruel scenes in the streets here. "Man Dieu, 
 if the rule of the Jacobins should come again! Yes, 
 it is best that you leave this disturbed country for the 
 present." 
 
 " For that purpose I am here to obtain from you a 
 small sum of money." 
 
 " How much do you wish? " 
 
 " Only sufficient to support us for a short time in a 
 foreign country, until this trouble passes, or until we 
 find means to make our bread in another land." 
 
 " Will fifteen thousand francs be enough? " 
 
 "Oh, too much!" 
 
 " My dear, you will find you can not have too much 
 money. This sum I will advance you on your written 
 acknowledgment. Of course, your settlements under 
 your marriage contracts would secure me for an im- 
 mensely larger sum. By the bye, has your husband's 
 will been proved, my child ? " 
 
 At this the young lady's face grows deathly pale ; she 
 trembles in every limb. 
 
 Noting her agitation he goes on in hurried apology : 
 " Pardon me. I don't wish to revive the memory of 
 your bereavement." 
 
 But she answers him : " My husband's will has not 
 been proved ;" then cries suddenly : " I have better 
 security to offer you than my word these trinkets ! 
 No, no, don't refuse them ! " for Emile Perrier has 
 made a dissenting gesture. " My property might be 
 confiscated." 
 
 " Yes, we do not know what may happen in a revo- 
 lution in France," murmurs the banker. 
 
 " Therefore, I have brought you a few of my jewels," 
 interjects the young lady. " I could not have you lose 
 a sou for being my friend." 
 
 As she speaks Adrienne eagerly produces from the
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. tg 
 
 pocket of her dress a diamond necklace, a few hand- 
 some rings and two bracelets, whose precious stones 
 glitter in the subdued lamplight. 
 
 " I can not receive these ; " again dissents the banker. 
 " These were your wedding presents from your dead 
 mother." 
 
 " How could they be better used than in saving the 
 daughter's life? I beg you keep them; they will be 
 safer in your hands than in mine. Perhaps in some 
 happier day I may redeem them." 
 
 " Well, as you please," says the old man, who, 
 though he has a generous heart, has also a business 
 brain. 
 
 Taking the baubles in his hands, he carefully inven- 
 tories them, arid remarks : " I will bring you the 
 money," but even at the door of the apartment pauses, 
 and brings consternation upon the girl, as he queries : 
 " Your family are going with you ? " 
 
 " My family ? Oh ah, yes of course ! " she stam- 
 mers. 
 
 " It will be necessary for you to have a passport. I 
 will send for one for you." 
 
 " No, no ! " cries Adrienne, desperately. " They 
 might be watching." 
 
 "Watching who?" 
 
 " The agents of the the rabble." 
 
 " I hardly think so yet. The King has not fled." 
 
 " Still it is not necessary for me to have a passport," 
 gasps the young widow. 
 
 " Without one, you could not travel in a public con- 
 veyance a league." 
 
 " Yes, I have thought of that. I I have a pass- 
 port under a false name," she falters. 
 
 " Sapristi, a false passport ? " gasps the astounded 
 banker. 
 
 " Yes. Adele Eulalie Pich Pichoir. You see it is 
 hard for me to remember my new cognomen. I am 
 registered as a poor woman, traveling to join my hus- 
 band in Italy."
 
 20 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Grand Dieu!" murmurs the man of finance, rolling 
 his old eyes. " What a bright child you have become." 
 
 " Yes, misery and terror have made me precocious," 
 returns the girl, who, all the time, is muttering to herself 
 in a childish way : " Holy Virgin, forgive my lies ! " 
 
 " Then the passport matter being settled," remarks 
 Emile Perrier, " I will lock these up in my safe, and get 
 you the money." 
 
 With the jewels in his hand he leaves the apartment, 
 and Adrienne, sinking down on the sofa, a strange light 
 flames in her childish eyes, she mutters to herself : " Ac- 
 cursed be they who bring despair upon me! Their 
 atrocious accusations drive me to it ! " Then sighs : 
 " Heaven will forgive the deceit of a poor, hunted, des- 
 perate creature like me ! " 
 
 With this, taking the passport from the portemon- 
 naie, she reads it again very carefully, committing to 
 memory the name and the statements in it. " This is 
 God's gift to me," she thinks. " I am robbing no one ; 
 she is dead ! " 
 
 A moment later the banker returns, bringing in his 
 hands fourteen billets de banque, each of the denomina- 
 tion of a thousand francs. " Keep these on your per- 
 son, my child," he suggests ; then hands to her a num- 
 ber of smaller notes and some gold and silver. " This is 
 the remainder of the money ; to change the larger bills 
 while traveling might be dangerous." 
 
 " Yes, yes, thank you v I understand," says the young 
 widow, rising to go. 
 
 But he intercepts her, commanding : " Not out of 
 my house to-night, my poor child." 
 
 " I must leave at once in order to go to-morrow," 
 she mutters, desperately. " I I have certain prepara- 
 tions to make that are necessary, dear Monsieur Perrier. 
 But you can do me a favor. There is a trunk of my 
 clothes my mother left with you upon my marriage. 
 Could you not kindly have them send it to my waiting 
 carriage ? " 
 
 " Certainly."
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 21 
 
 " Then please do so at once." 
 
 Noting the anxiety in his client's eyes, the banker re- 
 tires to give the necessary orders, while Adrienne hur- 
 riedly replaces her hat, that, in the excitement of the in- 
 terview, has fallen from her fair head. 
 
 A moment later Emile Perrier, returning, remarks : 
 " The trunk will be upon your coach very shortly. Still, 
 I think your old clothes will be of little use to you ; they 
 are not the garments of mourning," adding deprecat- 
 ingly : " But you are so young. You will wed again. 
 You will forget." 
 
 " Wed again ? Never ! " and dashing the tears from 
 her brown eyes, the widow sweeps to the door, a strange 
 shuddering protest in her graceful carriage. 
 
 " You will at least take some refreshment before you 
 leave ? " suggests Emile. " You look worn out, ma 
 pauvre petite." 
 
 " No, no. I dare not stay. God bless you dear Mon- 
 sieur Perrier ! " And in childish gratitude Adrienne 
 kisses the hand of the astounded banker, and runs out 
 of his house. 
 
 On the sidewalk, she says hurriedly to the hackman, 
 who has been anxiously awaiting her : " Here's the 
 money I promised you. Please do a little more for me." 
 
 " Diable, I will drive my horses to death ! " answers 
 the cocker cheerily, and kisses the five hundred franc 
 bill with great smacking lips. 
 
 " Then you must take me back to the Rue Joubert." 
 
 " Nom de Dieu ! To the dead woman's ? " 
 
 " Yes. You you won't betray me?" 
 
 " To betray you now would be to put my own wrists 
 in the handcuffs," mutters the man. " Besides, you 
 pay good money." 
 
 So Adrienne again passes through Paris in a ferment. 
 Even at this time of night the streets are full of ex- 
 cited men and shouting boys ; patrols of the National 
 Guard march hurriedly about, apparently, in an aimless 
 manner, fraternizing with the mob. The police seem
 
 22 ADRIENNt DE PORTALIS. 
 
 to have disappeared, even from the main boulevards; 
 the theaters are dark, the girl noting in the Montmartre 
 that the Varietes has " Relache " posted upon its portals. 
 
 At No. 45 Rue Joubert, to her relief, the fugitive 
 finds la concierge is still in the drunken insensibility of 
 her debauch. 
 
 " You must wait for me," she whispers to the hack- 
 man, as she takes the key from the wall. 
 
 " D table! The woman's room? You are not afraid 
 of the dead?" 
 
 " No, it is the living that I fear," answers the young 
 widow, though her hands tremble nervously, as her 
 light form disappears up the narrow stairs. 
 
 Ten minutes after, the hackman, dozing on his box, 
 cries angrily : " Who the deuce are you, trying to get 
 into my carriage?" and jumps into the street. Here 
 he gasps astonished : " Diable, little one ! You are no 
 more the aristocrate. You are now de Dieu! in the 
 clothes of the dead one." 
 
 " Yes, it is safer for me," whispers Adrienne. Then 
 her fragile figure sways ; she places her little hand on 
 the wheel of the coupe to support herself. 
 
 " Morbleu, you are fainting ! " The man lifts her 
 light form quite tenderly, and places the girl upon the 
 seat of the carriage. 
 
 Here, as he holds the door open, the moon shines 
 upon her pale, childish face. The street is deserted, 
 though the low murmur of the excited populace upon 
 the great boulevards comes faintly to them, and the two 
 hold converse. Adrienne, half reclining, falters : " It 
 it was more trying than I expected. Her dead face 
 seemed to look upon me as I robed myself in her gar- 
 ments." But, after a moment, recovering herself, she 
 goes on, an anxious tremor in her sweet voice : " Now 
 I must ask your advice. I am not accustomed to being 
 a fugitive. I wouldn't know how to evade the police." 
 
 " You are a criminal ? " 
 
 " No, no. Falsely accused ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2$ 
 
 " del! It is lucky for you there is a revolution in 
 Paris to-night. Had it been even yesterday they would 
 have had your little white thumbs tied together by this 
 time. But now the Bureau de Surete is topsy turvey. 
 Its accursed officers tremble for themselves in the Rue 
 de Jerusalem. Even old Vidocq is shivering, fearing 
 the guillotine may hack off his well-hated neck and his 
 sly old head fall into the basket. Everyone remembers 
 the good old Jacobin days of '93. That gives you your 
 chance." 
 
 " Yes, yes," cries the girl, who in her childish ignorance 
 of the world dares things a more mature mind would 
 deem impossible escape from the most perfect bureau 
 of information and accurate certainty of pursuit the 
 world has ever known. " Tell me how to dupe them ; 
 liow I can leave Paris." 
 
 " Leave Paris? Diable, you must have a passport! " 
 
 " Already obtained." 
 
 " Mon Dieu! A true one? " gasps the man, opening 
 his eyes very wide. 
 
 " No a false one." 
 
 " To go which way ? " 
 
 " South. The railway to Lyons has not been yet 
 opened.* I must take the diligence." 
 
 " Sapristi! At the office of the diligence they will be 
 awaiting you and will surely nab you, my little one," 
 remarks the hack driver. Then passing his hand 
 through his unkempt hair, after a moment he suggests : 
 " Git out as if you were going to the suburbs ; then take 
 a side road, and catch the diligence outside of town." 
 A moment later he mutters : " I have the trick. Take 
 the steamboat to Montereau. You have the money ? " 
 
 " Plenty." 
 
 " That's good. But you need not fear. I am not 
 avaricious. I will only charge you another hundred 
 francs. I will drive you to-morrow down to the Quai 
 de la Greve ; at the office, No. 60, you will take a ticket 
 
 * The railway to Lyons and Marseilles vas not opened even as tax as 
 Qhalons till 1849. Elo,
 
 24 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 for Montereau. We'll get there when the populace are 
 storming the Tuileries. The clerks will be thinking 
 more of stray cannon balls than their business. They 
 won't pay much attention to your passport. From 
 Montereau you take a private coach to Troyes; then 
 mount the diligence for Lyons, and there you are ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, God bless you ! " excitedly cries Adrienne, 
 clapping her hands almost childishly, though a moment 
 after her voice grows faint as she murmurs : " Now, 
 you must take me where I can get something to eat. 
 I've I've had nothing since morning. Besides, I must 
 have some place to sleep. I I am so tired." 
 
 " You may trust me for that Madamoiselle. I know 
 the very place ! Old Mother Grenouile will give you a 
 meal and a clean bed, and ask no questions. She takes 
 care of such stray police chickens as you quite often. 
 Parbleu, but you were lucky when you picked me up 
 after your carriage had broken down on the Passy road. 
 I am the one cocker in a hundred who would not have 
 robbed you of your money, and then turned you over to 
 the police. But do not be afraid. I will charge you 
 only two hundred francs for all I am doing for you." 
 
 " Yes ! God bless you again ! " says the girl, piteously. 
 
 " By the bye ! What am I to call you to Mother 
 Grenouile ? " 
 
 " Adele Pich I forget the name Adele Pichoir, 
 that's it Adele Pichoir, seamstress." 
 
 " Then petite," laughs the maij, " you had better put 
 out of sight that little watch with the coronet upon it. 
 Ah ! Now we are more in form. You are married, I 
 can see by the gold ring on your finger ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am journeying to meet my husband in Italy." 
 
 " Diable, you have been studying your passport," 
 chuckles the fellow. " Now, we'll make you as safe for 
 the night as if Monsieur Vidocq had you and you were 
 locked up in La Conciergerie." At this hideous 
 pleasantry, the fugitive shivers. 
 
 He is turning to mount his hack, when a little hand 
 it laid in piteous entreaty upon his arm 4 a fair face x
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 25 
 
 strangely beautiful in the moonlight, looks into his, and 
 a soft voice petitions : " For the love of God, Monsieur, 
 remember you are a man, and do not betray a helpless, 
 despairing woman." 
 
 " Diable! Do not doubt me, little one," answers the 
 cocker. " I am the most honest hackman in Paris ! " 
 
 And the fellow means it, as he whips up his tired 
 horses and drives briskly into one of the out-of-the- 
 way quarters of Paris, whose populace is now sharpen- 
 ing sword and cleaning pistol and musket and piling 
 cobblestones to dethrone its King. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MONTEREAU BOAT. 
 
 It is the next day that fateful twenty-fourth of Feb- 
 ruary, 1848. Paris is^a living hell. The crowds are 
 storming the Tuileries. The citizen king is flying from 
 his citizens. The musketry is rolling heavily from the 
 few troops who still hold firm about the palace. One 
 solid, howling, yelling, shouting Parisian mob, is 
 jammed into the Place de Carrousel, the gardens of the 
 Tuileries and the Rue de Rivoli, which at this time 
 ends at the Louvre. The quays, however, along the 
 river bank, are not as thickly crowded, there being a 
 report that a battery is placed ready to enfilade them 
 with its fire. 
 
 Upon the steps of the Hotel de Ville, apparently wait- 
 ing for some one or something, stands a young man, of 
 fine figure, and dark, serious eyes that are now flash- 
 ing, not only with excitement, but resolution. His 
 manner has a curious, precise dignity for one so young, 
 as if he were accustomed to command anything from 
 a regiment of cavalry to a class of schoolgirls. 
 
 He stands gazing upon the crowded Place de la 
 Greve, an eager expectancy making his lips quiver
 
 26 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 slightly under a long, well-waxed, dark mustache, 
 which has a military, almost theatrical twirl, to its 
 ends. Costumed for traveling, his high-booted foot is 
 beating an impatient tattoo on the stone step upon which 
 he stands. Once or twice, as the roll of musketry comes 
 to him from the direction of the scene of tumult, he 
 strikes his hands nervously together, and mutters: 
 " Will Cremieux never come ? Gran Dio ! Louis 
 Philippe dethroned, the Austrians have one friend less, 
 Italy one chance more." Then he cries, cordially : 
 " Thank God, you are here, Alphonse ! " to a young 
 man in the uniform of a Captain of the National Guard, 
 who, forcing his way through the throng, stands be- 
 side him. " What is your news? " 
 
 " We have done it ! " whispers the French captain. 
 
 " God be praised ! You are sure ? " 
 
 " Oh, certain, my Italian friend ! There goes 
 the last cannon of the heroic Gerard ; a brave man de- 
 fending a King who runs away." 
 
 " Louis Philippe has fled ? " queries the other, as if he 
 could scarce believe. 
 
 " Sure ! His carriage was seen to drive away nearly 
 an hour ago, and thank God, the colonel in command of 
 the troops, through which he passed, had the sense to 
 let him fly. Parbleu, they say, he is already under an 
 assumed name, possibly some cognomen of the English 
 whom he loves. He is the last King in France, mark 
 you that ! " 
 
 " Then I must get on my way, Cremieux," whispers 
 the other. " This news means an uprising in Italy." 
 
 " Don't talk here ! Mille diables, there may be spies 
 about, Da Messina," mutters the Frenchman. 
 
 So the two get to a quiet place and hold converse to- 
 gether. 
 
 " I leave for Milan immediately," remarks the Italian, 
 under his breath. " Giuseppe Mazzini will be in Paris 
 within two days. Give him any further news, but it 
 is necessary that Lombardy and Venice know at once 
 there is no King, who is a friend to Austria, in France,"
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTAUS. 27 
 
 " Yes ! I see you are ready to travel." And young 
 Cremieux glances at a valise the Italian carries in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I have been ready to depart for three weeks. You 
 know I have been waiting here over two months. I can 
 trust you, my dear Alphonse, because no man in Paris 
 has been a truer friend to me. You will present my 
 compliments to your great relative ? " 
 
 " Ma foi, my great relative is even now taking part 
 in the provisional government in the Chamber of Depu- 
 ties," replies the other with French vivacity. " Sauzet, 
 when he rose in the Chamber to assume the office of 
 President, said : ' I call the Deputies to order.' And 
 a sans-culotte, covering him with a big musket cried : 
 ' The Republic calls upon you to resign.' ' I resign ! ' 
 screamed Sauzet, and fled through a trapdoor in the 
 rostrum which he had prepared to the catacombs of 
 underground Paris. Perhaps he is even now crawling 
 through a sewer beneath our feet ! " At this the two 
 burst out laughing merrily. 
 
 - A moment later the Italian speaks hurriedly and se- 
 riously : 
 
 " This thing that I have waited for having come 
 to pass, I must return at once to Milan." 
 
 "You have a passport?" 
 
 " Of course ! But not a French passport. One is- 
 sued by the Austrian government in my native city, 
 permitting me, the Cavaliere, Carlo Tomasso da Mes- 
 sina, teacher of music, to take journey to Paris, and 
 return with an apprenticed pupil, one Estelle Gabrielle 
 Chartres, aged sixteen, who is to be prepared by me 
 for the stage of the Opera that is the trouble ! " 
 
 "What is the trouble?" 
 
 " My pupil, the girl I was to take with me, to be 
 placed under my direction at the school of my aunt in 
 Milan! These political commotions have frightened 
 the child's parents, who, though poor as church mice 
 for some time, hesitated to place their daughter under 
 the stern rule of Italian padroneship. Even with the
 
 28 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 papers already drawn up, they now refuse to let Estelle 
 travel to Italy, where we will have much more deadly 
 work than has been necessary here." He points almost 
 sneeringly toward the Tuileries. " So I am without a 
 pupil. Now, the bringing of this girl to Milan was the 
 sole apparent object of my visit to Paris. To return 
 without my apprentice will add to the suspicions which 
 the Austrian government already have of me." 
 
 " Mille tonnerres! you were not very wise, my friend. 
 Why did you not state to the Milan authorities that you 
 had an engagement at the Paris Opera, my tenor ? That 
 would have been more astute than the excuse of the 
 girl," remarks Alphonse. ,, 
 
 " That was impossible," answers the other. " The 
 Opera House of Paris is very close, artistically, to La 
 Scala, Milan. My contract would have to have been a 
 genuine one, and, as is usual, for a stated period. Then 
 I could not have left on the moment, as I do now. Be- 
 sides, I was assured Mademoiselle Chartres would be 
 regularly apprenticed to me here, and leave with me at 
 my command." 
 
 "Parbleu!" laughs the young Frenchman. "Why 
 not take Julie, or Cora, or Mimi ? La belle Mimi is quite 
 enamored of you. She'd masquerade as a girl of six- 
 teen ; she would travel to Italy with you, and enjoy the 
 role. Diable! I see la petite Mimi donning short school j 
 girl skirts and playing your pupil of sixteen, with that 
 arch, childlike grace, that devilish innocence that makes 
 the bald heads in the fauteuils d'orchestre at the Palais 
 Royal chuckle till their old hearts throb as if they were 
 boys again." 
 
 "Peste!" interjects Da Messina. "The liberty 
 of my country is too solemn to be sullied by an 
 amour with a soubrette. And yet, I must go to- 
 day ! " The determination in his voice is tinged with 
 anxiety, though not conquered by it. " Every minute 
 is important now. Within a month we will answer 
 your guns in free Paris by our musketry in free Milan ; 
 remember that ! And yet, without the girl, I know not
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2$ 
 
 how to make my return to Italy look plausible. How- 
 ever," the confidence of youth lighting his expressive 
 face, " trust me to pull the wool over the eyes of the 
 Austrian officials on the Lombardian frontier in some 
 way." 
 
 " Remember," says Cremieux, warningly, " that 
 we have word here at least so Monsieur Barrot in- 
 formed me only last night that there are several Aus- 
 trian spies now in Paris, seeing how this affair will turn 
 out. One or two of them are ladies ; perhaps especially 
 picked out, knowing your predilection for the fair sex, 
 my dear Cavaliere da Messina ! " 
 
 " Basta! Ii, matters of politics, women are no more 
 to me than chessmen are to the player," mutters the 
 other, adding, coolly : " For my country, I would wring 
 the neck of Madame Spy as quickly as I would cut the 
 throat of Monsieur Mouchard!" 
 
 " Ah, yes ! You have the old principles of the Car- 
 bonari," smiles the Frenchman. 
 
 " No, only the aspirations of ' Young Italy.' We are 
 all ready to move, I tell you, Cremieux. Charles Albert 
 has fifty thousand men on the Piedmont frontier to aid 
 us ; Garibaldi is raising a group of free Italians in 
 Naples ; Venice, under Manin, is ready to rise, and my 
 beloved Milan will not be far behind her." 
 
 " Then you are going ? " queries Alphonse, for the 
 other is already moving toward the river front. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " By the diligence to Lyons ? " 
 
 " No. I take no diligence from Paris. Though a 
 young man, I am too old a conspirator for that. My 
 movements were arranged for me by your great rela- 
 tive, a man with a long head. He said : ' Take the boat 
 as far as Montereau, my dear Da Messina. They will 
 not be thinking to-day of tourists doing the upper Seine. 
 There I engage a private chaise and post to Troyes. 
 From that point, of course, the diligence to Lyons ; but 
 I don't imagine any lady spy will think I journey that 
 rather roundabout way to Marseilles and Genoa."
 
 3O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " So there will be no more petits soupers with you 
 at the Cafe de Paris, or our little dinners de quartre, 
 two ladies and two gentlemen, at Very's. Diable, I 
 shall miss your beautiful voice, but your company much 
 more, my dear Chevalier! La petite Mimi will be in- 
 consolable," prattles the young Frenchman, vivaciously, 
 though the musketry is still rolling about the Tuileries. 
 
 " Yes," answers the other, solemnly. " No man thor- 
 oughly appreciates Paris till he is leaving it. There's no 
 city like it on this earth ! " He sighs slightly, perchance 
 thinking of la belle Mimi, who^is as piquant a sou- 
 brette as ever looked undying love at a man and didn't 
 mean it. " Shall I say good-by, now, my dear Al- 
 phonse?" They are at the Ouai de Greve the young 
 Italian holds out his hand affectionately. 
 
 " No, not yet ! I will bid you adieu at the boat." 
 
 With this they take their way rapidly to the quay be- 
 low the bridge Louise Philippe, where one of the little 
 steamers running to Montereau is tied up. Her funnel 
 is belching black smoke. She, apparently, is ready to 
 depart. One or two of the deckhands are waving the 
 passengers, who are not very numerous, across her 
 gangplank. 
 
 " Quick ! You have just time to get your ticket, Da 
 Messina," cries Cremieux, and the two young men run 
 hastily to the office of the steamboat company, where 
 the excited clerks, urged to a Gallic madness by the 
 tumult that comes faintly to their ears from further 
 down the Seine, pay very little attention to the exami- 
 nation of passports. 
 
 One is just taking some money from a woman garbed 
 quite humbly in a plain, brown dress, and crying: 
 "Ticket for Madame Pichoir; passport examined!" 
 He scarce looks at the latter document, for at this time 
 a shout comes from a lounger outside: " Mon Dieu! 
 Cannon are coming upon the Ouai near the Palace ! " 
 
 " Tell the Captain to get under way at once. I am 
 going to Montereau with him ! " screams the manager 
 of the office, running out. " But you clerks stay here
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 31 
 
 and attend to business; the next boat will be 
 crowded ! " he adds sternly to his attaches, who would 
 follow him. 
 
 In the midst of this excitement Da Messina comes 
 out of the office with his ticket in his hand, Cremieux 
 walking hastily beside him. As they run down to the 
 little steamboat, the latter remarks, half jestingly : " See, 
 my Carlo, in front of you the female spy." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asks the other, in hurried 
 suspicion. 
 
 " Why, that young lady in advance of us." 
 
 " That young lady? " 
 
 " Yes. She who wears the garments of a work- 
 woman with the grace of an aristocrat. I caught her 
 face under her big bonnet ; it is that of as pretty a girl 
 as I have ever looked at ; not over eighteen. I read her 
 passport as it lay open on the counter, and it said mar- 
 ried woman, twenty-five. Diable, look at that high- 
 bred foot; it's not shod in philosophes at fifty sous a 
 pair, I can tell you. Those high heels came from a 
 Jordan or a Ferry, and cost a couple of louis at least. 
 Sapristi, Mademoiselle may be some princess in dis- 
 guise," laughs the Frenchman. " Anyway, she is 
 worth investigating, Da Messina, either from the stand- 
 point of politics or the tender passion." 
 
 " Cielo! " whispers the Italian. " I believe she really 
 is a spy. See how she shrinks from observation; note 
 that her dress is much too large for her slight waist. 
 Cospetto, how familiarly that hackman, carrying her 
 trunk, chuckles to her as she steps upon the boat." 
 
 " Oho ! " interjects Alphonse, " I know the fellow." 
 A moment later, he whispers : " Listen ! The hackman 
 has just mentioned Mother Grenouile to the girl." 
 
 " Mother Grenouile ! Who is she ? " asks Carlo, hur- 
 riedly. 
 
 " Come this way, and I will tell you," for the two 
 are now upon the gangplank, across which the last pas- 
 sengers are crowding, a booming cannon down the river 
 adding to their haste.
 
 32 ABRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 On the deck of the t>oat, drawing his friend as far as 
 possible from other people's ears, Cremieux whispers 
 warningly : " Camille Grenouile is well known to most 
 boulevardiers as a woman who keeps a lodging house 
 in which people under a cloud take refuge. The sus- 
 pects of the police; ladies of shady reputations of all 
 kinds are her lodgers. Beware, my dear Da Messina, 
 of any woman who knows Mere Grenouile ! Our sus- 
 pect is certainly not couleur blanche. Camille's is the 
 very house a female spy of the Austrian government 
 might lodge in." 
 
 " Thanks for your warning, my dear Alphonse. Were 
 I impeded in my journey to Milan it would be a blow 
 to our cause," whispers the Italian, casting a wary eye 
 upon the shrinking form of Adrienne de Portalis, who, 
 clothed as the seamstress Adele Pichoir, is trying 
 most anxiously to avoid the eyes of a little gendarme, 
 who in full uniform, has just stepped upon the deck. 
 
 " Good-by, old fellow ! Pray God that you may re- 
 turn to us soon from Italy alive," ejaculates Cremieux, 
 for tne cry is "All ashore ! " 
 
 The two young men embrace heartily. The French- 
 man tears himself away, and springs rapidly to the 
 quai, as the steamer's gangplank is taken in, and turn- 
 ing her head up stream the little vessel darts past the 
 Isle Saint Louis, and, leaving Charenton to her left, 
 breasts the current, paddling rapidly toward the upper 
 reaches of the river. 
 
 Every revolution of the boat's wheels takes it farther 
 from the wild roar of the mob, triumphant now and 
 looting the Tuileries as they testify their hatred of mon- 
 archy by destroying the art treasures of half a dozen 
 centuries. 
 
 Seating himself carelessly near the stern of the boat, 
 and lighting a cigar, the Cavaliere da Messina makes 
 a rather languidly romantic picture, as in the confidence 
 of youth he hums, most exquisitely, a little Italian 
 ditty, though all the time he gives a concealed yet earn-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 33 
 
 est attention to the woman against whom he has been 
 warned. 
 
 Every attitude of the shrinking girl increases his sus- 
 picions. " She is certainly a consummate actress, or 
 some one journeying under very peculiar circum- 
 stances," he concludes. Inspection makes the object of 
 his distrust more interesting to him, as the ill-made robe 
 can not conceal a most attractive figure, and a very 
 capacious poke bonnet can not keep wholly from his 
 prying eyes a very lovely and exceedingly youthful 
 face. 
 
 Suddenly, to increase his misgivings, the object of his 
 inspection comes quite close to him, as if she sought 
 his company. 
 
 This is simply because the Cavaliere da Messina ap- 
 pears, to the girl's appealing gaze, the most gentlemanly 
 man on the boat, in fact, the only one to whom Adri- 
 enne, in a moment of necessity, might turn for succor 
 from some of the rude gang who occupy most of the 
 deck of the steamer. These are mostly tradesmen of 
 the lower classes, who fear the flying bullets of revolu- 
 tionary Paris; a number of millers who are returning 
 to their cornmills at Melun and Corbiel, as well as a 
 few farmers and red-shirted butchers for Montereau, 
 likewise some uncouth shepherds and cattle dealers 
 journeying to the Forest d'Othe. The almost brutal at- 
 tentions of some of these to a woman of pretty face and 
 humble dress are such as drive the frightened girl as 
 far as possible from her would-be gallants, the bulk of 
 whom are at the forward end of the boat. Consequently 
 Adrienne moves nearer to the stern, and therefore closer 
 to Carlo da Messina, who suddenly has an idea that the 
 pretty spy, for as such he now almost regards her, de- 
 sires to have word with him in order to make her sur- 
 veillance over him more close and effective. 
 
 So he sits quietly smoking, keeping one eye upon the 
 beautiful banks of the Seine, which become more hilly 
 and picturesque as they reach its higher waters, and the 
 other upon the attractive object of his suspicions wait-
 
 34 ADRIENNE VE PORTAL1S. 
 
 ing for a denouement, which he now confidently expects 
 will take place. But this does not occur until the jour- 
 ney is nearly closed. It is already late in the afternoon 
 and is growing toward dusk. The boat has passed 
 Corbiel, Melun, and Fontainebleau, and is nearing her 
 destination, the little town of Montereau, when Signor 
 da Messina gives a start. 
 
 A sweet voice is whispering, almost in his ear : " Oh, 
 Monsieur! I beg your protection when we land; that 
 you will conduct me to the inn. I am alone and un- 
 protected. You are the only one whose bearing and 
 appearance permits me to petition. I will only trouble 
 you till we reach the inn." 
 
 With a slight start, Carlo, turning, sees a pair of 
 beautiful, anxious, brown eyes, and hears a voice of 
 wonderful sweetness and exquisite timbre making ap- 
 peal to a heart, that is now a very hard one toward this 
 young lady, and a mind that is decidedly distrustful, 
 even of her beauty and her graces. For the Cavaliere 
 is thinking to himself: "Curse the little cunning 
 intrigante! With the art of a thorough police spy, she 
 is making the only appeal to me that, as a gentleman, 
 I can not refuse." He has just noticed that the little 
 gendarme has passed a few words with the lovely pe- 
 titioner. As a matter of fact, Adrienne's appeal is 
 owing to the amorous arts of this dapper little police- 
 man, who, strutting about in his gorgeous uniform, has 
 sought to make a conquest of the retiring girl, the few 
 marketwomen on board not being considered worthy 
 subjects for his gallantry. This official, after many 
 ogles, some sighs, and a good deal of bombast, having 
 noticed that Adrienne's eyes, when they meet his, shrink 
 from his impudent glances, thinks he has made a con- 
 quest. Therefore, the boat being near its destination, 
 he struts up to the trembling young lady and addresses 
 her in these horrifying words : " Remember, Made- 
 moiselle, when we reach Montereau, on the gangplank 
 I shall take you under my arm, as a representative of 
 the Police of Paris." This audacious speech has given
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 35 
 
 La Baronne de Portalis an awful fright. For one in- 
 stant she thinks that her disguise has been discovered ; 
 that the ogling creature before her is a myrmidon of the 
 Bureau de Surete. A moment later his words give her 
 mind a great relief her modesty a fearful shock. He 
 whispers: "Corps de diable! I will show you, my 
 pretty one, how we love in Paris." 
 
 Unaccustomed to guard herself in public, having 
 always had either the protection of a mother or the care 
 of a husband, and always shielded by the surroundings 
 of wealth and station, the girl sees only one relief from 
 this attack, and that is to place herself under the pro- 
 tection of one who, though he looks a man of the world, 
 seems also to be a gentleman. 
 
 " Yes, I will take you to the inn," replies the cava- 
 liere, shortly, though he lifts his hat ceremoniously. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Monsieur ! It is that 
 gendarme that I fear." 
 
 " Humph, yes ! I noticed that he was talking to you," 
 remarks Carlo, pointedly, and thinks : " When I get 
 into my postchaise at Montereau, Donna Intrigante, 
 though she will doubtless try to follow me, will be com- 
 pelled to take her prying eyes off me for a little time. 
 Diavolo, but they are very beautiful and pathetic 
 hang me, they look as if they had been crying for my 
 benefit, I suppose. What a consummate little actress 
 she is." 
 
 To avoid the temptation of her glance, he turns his 
 face from her, and, the mood coming on him, sings un- 
 der his voice, his humor being sad, a petite chanson of 
 Beranger's one la belle Mimi used to warble the 
 echo of his past amourette in Paris. 
 
 As he finishes, he is startled by the lady of his fears 
 whispering : " How how beautifully you sing, yet 
 how sadly." He notes the lovely eyes are again full of 
 tears. 
 
 " Yes, I am considered something of a tenor in Italy," 
 he returns, complacently. Even great artists have ail 
 appetite for com2liments. But as he speaks a savage
 
 36 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 distrust flies into his face, for this girl of humble 
 garb is wiping her brown eyes with a kerchief of finest 
 cambric, its corner broidered with a little coronet. 
 
 " Cospetto! " he thinks. " Even the most cunning of 
 these lady mouches have some slight rent in their 
 armor of deceit." 
 
 Anxious to test her a little farther, he carelessly 
 makes a remark in German. To his horror she an- 
 swers him with a delightful Viennese accent, explaining, 
 apparently, as an afterthought, that she studied the 
 language in her convent school. 
 
 They have rounded the last bend of the river Mon- 
 tereau is in sight. 
 
 " Monsieur, I I remind you of your promise," whis- 
 pers the suspect, gazing tremblingly at the gendarme, 
 who has posted himself near the gangway. 
 
 " I am at your service, Mademoiselle," answers Carlo, 
 formally. 
 
 " Madame, please ! " responds the girl. " I am Adele 
 Pichoir, journeying to my husband in Italy, via Mar- 
 seilles." 
 
 " By Heavens ! " thinks Da Messina, with a start. 
 " This female Vidocq has discovered my very route." 
 
 A moment after, the boat drawing up at the landing- 
 place, the cavaliere offers his arm with studied polite- 
 ness to the woman by his side, and leads her across the 
 gangplank, the dapper gendarme gazing after him and 
 cursing him under his breath, though afraid to dispute 
 the prize with a stalwart fellow who looks not only able 
 to break him in two and throw him into the river, but 
 also extremely cross and very savage. 
 
 For, though the little white, clinging hand laid upon 
 his stout arm might, in its helpless appeal, make any 
 man feel very tender toward her, Carlo da Messina is 
 looking upon the lady he escorts, muttering to himself, 
 a very dangerous gleam in his eye : " Beware, my little 
 Austrian police spy ! I am warned of you. You follow 
 me at your peril ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A CURIOUS NIGHT RIDE. 
 
 Five mmtttes' walk and Carlo da Messina, accom- 
 panied by Madame la Baronne de Portalis, reaches the 
 C'heval Blanc, a little inn which is also the posthouse 
 of the town. 
 
 Here, bowing courteously, the gentleman says : " 1 
 must now leave you, Madame," and striding hastily out 
 of the parlor of the auberge, he orders a postchaise at 
 once to take him to Troyes. 
 
 " Morbleu, you are lucky ! " answers the innkeeper. 
 " You have ordered the last in our stables. There has 
 been quite a travel of ladies and gentlemen who have 
 to-day fled from Paris, from which they tell me the 
 King has run away. The next one who orders a car- 
 riage will find he has to remain over night." 
 
 " That you have one left is fortunate," replies the 
 cavaliere. " I am anxious to get on my way as soon 
 as possible. So have the horses put in at once, and 
 serve a little dinner in your dining-room anything 
 will do whatever you have cooked, and a bottle of 
 chablis." 
 
 Three minutes after Carlo sits down to a meal very 
 hastily served, but finds himself made comfortable by a 
 cold chicken, bread, butter, and cheese, and a bottle of 
 quite fair wine. 
 
 Apparently, the lady spy is in a hurry also, for the 
 girl whom he dreads is likewise taking a hasty meal in 
 another portion of the room, from which she once or 
 twice looks up at him with a gratitude he thinks sus- 
 picious. A moment later, in the courtyard, as he is 
 about to step into his postchaise, the innkeeper comes 
 to him. 
 
 " Monsieur, I have taken a great liberty. A woman 
 is also anxious to proceed to Troyes. I have given her 
 a seat in your carriage. She said it was an affair of
 
 38 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 life and death. I didn't think you would object, as you 
 had escorted her from the boat, and she is very 
 pretty ! " There is a sly twinkle in the old aubergiste's 
 eye. 
 
 " The woman I escorted from the boat ? " 
 
 " Yes. Though humbly dressed she seems to have 
 plenty of money to pay the high post charges of sixty- 
 five miles to Troyes; she will divide the expense with 
 you." 
 
 " Plenty of money ! " cogitates the Italian conspira- 
 tor. " Yet her passport, Alphonse told me, was that of 
 a seamstress. She is dressed as a workingwoman. She 
 inadvertently used a coronetted handkerchief. She 
 speaks South-German. She is surely an Austrian 
 agent. Maladetto, she will have it ! " 
 
 Then like a man of determination, turning to the au- 
 bergiste, he remarks in blandest tone: " Certainly, inn- 
 keeper, place the lady in the postchaise. She will be a 
 pleasant companion for the ride of course, she shares 
 the expense with me ? " 
 
 Upon which Adrienne, coming hurriedly out, falters : 
 " Thank you, Monsieur, for another favor to my help- 
 lessness. Had it been anybody else I would not have 
 dared to trust myself with him alone in a carriage, but 
 I can tell from your face, Monsieur, that the weakness 
 of a woman with you adds to her safety." 
 
 " Diavolo! What a cunning little devil she is," mut- 
 ters Carlo to himself ; then replies, a strange significance 
 in his voice: "I hope you will enjoy the journey," and 
 assists the young lady with formal deference into the 
 postchaise, seating himself beside her. 
 
 They are about to drive away when the innkeeper, 
 hastily running up to their carriage, says : " Your pass- 
 ports, please? This upturning of the government has 
 made me forgetful." 
 
 Adrienne is hastily and nervously seeking for her 
 paper as the cavaliere hands his to the man. 
 
 Glancing at it, the fellow grins, and remarks
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 39 
 
 " Venire bleu I A little comedy of Monsieur's ! Made- 
 moiselle is your apprentice ? " then calls cheerily : 
 " Drive on, boys ! " 
 
 And the postilions whipping up, the chaise rolls out 
 of the courtyard of the Cheval Blanc, Adrienne gazing 
 astounded both at her unexamined passport and her 
 compagnon de voyage. 
 
 " They thought you were my apprenticed pupil," re- 
 marks Carlo. " Permit me" he glances at the open 
 paper, and reading there " Adele Pichoir, age twenty- 
 five, seamstress," he turns his eyes upon the lady's 
 white hand, and noting her delicate fingers show no 
 needle marks, his face grows dark; he has no further 
 doubt that a spy sits beside him. 
 
 With this, sudden resolution comes to him. The ob- 
 ject of his journey being disclosed to the Austrian gov- 
 ernment will not only mean his instant arrest when 
 he reaches Lombardy, but perhaps the seizure of arms 
 vital to the success of the insurrection. He is de- 
 termined that, when the tocsin sounds, he must be 
 free to fight the battles of his country. 
 
 " She has forced herself upon me," he reflects. 
 " Upon her devilish head be it ! " and gives her a 
 threatening glance, as the carriage rumbles out of the 
 little town and goes up hill and down dale, nearly fol- 
 lowing the line of excavation of the railroad that is in 
 process of completion. 
 
 It is growing dark. The road is lonely. The sleepy 
 postboys are scarce thinking of what they are doing, 
 when astonishment, dismay, and horror come in awful 
 shock to Adrienne de Portalis. The man in the carriage 
 with her suddenly draws down the blinds of the vehicle 
 Before she can speak he seizes her white throat in one 
 hand, and with the other flashes a gleaming stiletto over 
 her heart, snarling : " Austrian spy, one word from 
 your false lips ; one movement of your hands, and you 
 are dead ! Make no resistance ! " 
 
 So, holding her, and she being under fear of death 
 from this man, wjio must be a robber who has dis-
 
 40 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 covered she has money about her, Carlo da Messina, 
 forcing his handkerchief between her red lips, which 
 are now growing pale with terror, and her pearly teeth 
 that chatter as if she had the ague, he ties it behind her 
 head, gagging her. 
 
 Then, quickly taking her own scarf, he binds her lit- 
 tle fluttering wrists together securely behind her back, 
 and places her on the seat in front of him, muttering, in 
 hoarse menace : " Move, Jezebel, and you die ! " 
 
 And so they ride on into the night that is growing 
 deeper, he apparently meditating to what horrible fate 
 he will put his victim, while all the time the staring eyes 
 of his captive, perhaps made more beautiful by flashes of 
 wild agony in their brown depths, gaze upon him as if 
 asking : Does this ferocious bandit mean only murder, 
 or, perhaps, even a greater horror, to the helpless girl 
 whose life he holds within his brutal hands? 
 
 But Carlo is debating not what to do, but how to do 
 it ; i. e., to place this woman who has dogged his step? 
 where she will do him and his cause Italian liberty, 
 that he deems much more sacred than his safety any 
 further harm. 
 
 " This devil's passport, permitting her to journey to 
 Genoa via Marseilles, shows that she intended to follow 
 me to Italy, doubtless there to give such information to 
 the Austrian authorities that, added to the suspicions 
 they already have of me, means, at the very best, soli- 
 tary confinement in an Austrian fortress. Curse her! " 
 he cogitates. " She shall not make a Silvio Pellico 
 of me. No oubliette of the Spielbergh Fortress for 
 Carlo da Messina ! In this crisis of my country my 
 hands must be unfettered to fight for Italy ! " 
 
 Turning it over in his mind, he sees no way to per- 
 mit this woman to live and be safe himself. He is striv- 
 ing to bring himself to the awful resolve, to poniard 
 her and throw her body out of the carriage in the dark- 
 ness, though he dare not do this until the next stage. 
 Their postilions have seen the woman enter the car- 
 riage with him. At change of horses, new postboys
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 4! 
 
 will take their places, and, with the blinds drawn down, 
 will hardly notice the chaise has two people in it ; then 
 he must act ! 
 
 But even as he strives to bring his mind to take the 
 necessary action, his whole being revolts at the cruel 
 deed. He can not help pitying the creature he is about 
 to sacrifice upon what he considers the altar of Italian 
 liberty. The girlish face that had looked in such child- 
 ish pathos into his will come into his imagination. Be- 
 sides, as he sternly bound her, some inkling of the lithe 
 beauty and exquisite graces of that youthful figure, 
 which struggled so piteously under his strong arm, 
 had come to his acute senses. It bore no passion with 
 it; his mind had been intent only upon his safety, but 
 an innate artistic sense of the beauty he is about to 
 sacrifice lingers in his imagination. 
 
 So he thanks God the darkness does not perjnit him 
 to more than discern dimly the slight, helpless figure, 
 that sways to and fro with every jolt of the lumbering 
 coach, and that the gloom prevents his seeing no more 
 than the outline of the pretty, muffled head whose eyes, 
 even in the darkness, seem to flash with despair into his 
 as he awaits the time when he must act, for they will 
 shortly be at the next posthouse, and after they have 
 changed horses and new postilions have mounted, the 
 girl must die. 
 
 But while he is thinking, Adrienne's mind, which has 
 recovered from the first dazed horror of his sudden at- 
 tack, now notes that she has not yet been robbed, and 
 remembers that this man, as he seized her, called her 
 an Austrian spy. 
 
 Therefore, very shortly after this, the cavaliere 
 starts, astonishment coming unto him, for a little foot is 
 kicking his own in a trembling, half-hearted kind of a 
 way. He gazes at the girl, and sees that she has crossed 
 her ankles and extended them toward him. Seeing 
 that he has noticed this, Adrienne presents her two 
 helpless hands bound behind her back. This she does 
 twice before he understands.
 
 42 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 He whispers : " You wish me to tie your feet so I 
 dare unbind your hands ? " 
 
 The muffled head nods to him. 
 
 " Basta! I were a coward if I could not trust a weak 
 girl that far ! " thinks the man. 
 
 In a moment he has bound the trembling feet to- 
 gether and cautiously released one hand of the captive. 
 The next instant he starts as the delicate fingers clutch 
 in the darkness a gold pencil case that, in the after- 
 noon, Adrienne had noticed attached to his watch 
 chain. 
 
 " Sapristi! little devil, you wish to write?" 
 
 The muffled head nods again. In a moment he pro- 
 duces his pocketbook, and striking a lucifer match from 
 the box he carries for convenience as a smoker, the fol- 
 lowing curious interview, illumined by the sharp flashes 
 of the lucifers, takes place. 
 
 The girl writes in trembling, yet hurried characters : 
 " I am not a spy." 
 
 " Impossible ! Don't lie to me ! " 
 
 " God help me ; it is the truth ! " 
 
 " Then who are you ? " he whispers to her. 
 
 " I am the most unfortunate woman in the world." 
 
 " I can well believe that," mutters the cavaliere, 
 grimly, " unless you prove to me that you are not what 
 I suspect. Your name?" 
 
 " Adele Pichoir, seamstress." 
 
 " Don't lie any more ! Your dainty fingers show no 
 marks of the needle ; your handkerchief bears a coronet ; 
 your outer dress is that of a workingvvoman, but your 
 skirts are cambric decked with lace, and your shoes, 
 my friend Cremieux, who admires pretty feet, informs 
 me are in the first fashion, and must have cost at least 
 two louis d'ors." 
 
 " Holy Virgin, pity me ! " writes the girl. " Must I 
 tell you the truth ? " 
 
 " If you wish to live, yes ! " he replies. " And quick- 
 ly ! Now, your true name ! " 
 
 " I am Adrienne La Baronne de Portalis."
 
 ADIUENNE DE PORTALIS. 43 
 
 " Then why the assumed name and false passport ? " 
 
 " I am a fugitive ! " 
 
 " A fugitive ! " sneers the cavaliere. " From whom 
 your husband? I can see by your ring you are mar- 
 ried ! " 
 
 " No. I am a widow ! " 
 
 " Then from whom do you fly ? Answer as you value 
 your life. " 
 
 " From Oh, Monsieur, for the love of God do not 
 betray me from the police." 
 
 "Diavolo!" 
 
 " But I am innocent." 
 
 " Of course! But I can not listen just now to your 
 very suspicious story. I see the lights of the posthouse 
 just ahead of us. Only remember, you have nothing 
 to fear from me if you are not an Austrian mouche, 
 whose report would mean my ruin. But, until I am 
 sure, please give me your hand at once! " for the cap- 
 tive hesitates. 
 
 Though this man's manner is somewhat softened and 
 his voice is not as harsh as it had been, there is some- 
 thing in his attitude that seems to compel the young 
 widow's obedience. She falteringly extends to him 
 her delicate wrist, which is immediately bound to the 
 other. Then he rapidly mutters : " Excuse me," in 
 somewhat more tender tone, and, draping her with a 
 long traveling cloak he has with him, seats her in the 
 far away corner of the chaise on the opposite side to 
 the lights of the posthouse, as they dash up to it. 
 
 " Just remain quiet," he whispers, and I will hear 
 the rest of your tale after we are on our way again. 
 Then, putting his head out of the carriage window, he 
 promptly declines proffered refreshment from the 
 keeper of the house. 
 
 Ten minutes after they are on the road again, new 
 postboys riding in advance. The darkness has scarce 
 closed about them, before Adrienne finds her hands un- 
 bound, and, to her relief, the gag taken from her mouth. 
 
 " I will trust you this far," he says. " Now tell me
 
 44 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 * 
 
 your story, and do not forget that if you convince me of 
 its truth you shall receive from me not only ample 
 apology, but any aid I can give you in the calamity 
 which you say has come upon you." 
 
 " Must I tell everything ? " 
 
 " Everything, as you hope for mercy from me." 
 
 " Then," the girl's voice is very pleading now, " I am, 
 as I told you, Adrienne La Baronne de Portal is. My 
 father, who died when I was an infant, was a Parisian 
 banker, Cesar Rammeau, who left behind him quite a 
 fortune, that is now settled upon me, and which, I be- 
 lieve, has increased materially. My mother, God bless 
 her, Cora Rammeau, though in certain points a weak 
 woman, loved me very tenderly. I was educated at the 
 convent school of the Dames du Sacre Cocur, Rue de la 
 Sante, Paris. At eighteen I was taken from the con- 
 vent to be married to the late Baron Rayon de Portalis, 
 a gentleman I had never seen, and old enough to be 
 more than my father. Of course, I could not love him, 
 though I respected him, and he was very kind to me. 
 Shortly after the wedding my dear mother died and 
 left me surrounded by a family who, I think, hate me." 
 
 " Your dead husband ? " 
 
 " No his mother and his brother. His mother is a 
 horrible commercial miser. My husband, a man of 
 trade, was ennobled nearly twenty years ago for his dis- 
 coveries in the manufacture of potteries which have 
 been declared of national importance. Therefore, he 
 was always a tradesman, but he was very kind to me, 
 until he, not much more than two weeks ago, died. 
 From that time my life has been a Hades. His relations 
 wished his money ; they wanted mine, too. By the mar- 
 riage settlement, my mother, a woman of slight will, 
 had permitted my husband the control of my dot. When 
 his will, which left everything to me, was opened, only 
 two days ago, imagine the rage of his miser mother and 
 the hatred of his good-for-nothing, worthless brother, 
 whose only hope of fortune came from the deceased. 
 They turned upon me. They even hinted God forgive
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 45 
 
 them! that I that I had poisoned my husband." 
 Da Messina can see the girl is wringing her hands. 
 " But I forced them to retract that ; that was too 
 atrocious ! They did not dare mention their cowardly 
 charge to the notaries and officials of the will ; but to 
 them they accused me of having altered the last testa- 
 ment of my husband. True, I had written a codicil at 
 my husband's dictation, but that was no crime; his 
 disposition of his property was only made to give me 
 independence from his family who, he guessed, did not 
 love me. So they accused me of forgery. They 
 swore to lies, and I a girl who even now knows noth- 
 ing of the world, having passed from the convent to 
 the care of a husband who was jealous of my youth 
 and kept me secluded, but who guarded me I feared ! 
 For I discovered that they had even sent for the 
 agents of Monsieur Vidocq to arrest me! I feared 
 that the horrible fate might come upon me of Marie 
 Cappelle Lafarge,* who, though she cries out she is 
 innocent, is even now entombed for life in an awful 
 prison, for the murder of her husband, though most 
 of the world believes she is the most wronged woman 
 upon this earth. 
 
 " What was I to do, browbeaten and accused in 
 that way? I had no relatives of my own to protect 
 me. When they sent for the officers to arrest me 
 O Monsieur! they gloatingly told me of it the mad- 
 ness of panic came upon me. I was so crushed they 
 had no fear of my escaping. I threw my personal jew- 
 els into my pocket and ran to the carriage-house 
 in the grounds about our home, at Sevres, to the 
 only person I thought pitied me, our old coachman, 
 and begged him to drive me into Paris. I had some 
 thought of going to a lawyer, but we had hardly gone 
 
 *The case of Madame Lafarge was at that time one of the most discussed 
 reuses celebre in France. Marie Cappelle, whose father was an officer in the 
 French army and of very good blood, had been married to a man of affairs. 
 At his death his family accused her of having poisoned her husband in order 
 to obtain his estate. Though she was imprisoned for life for this offense, 
 ther are many grave doubts of the justice of her sentence, and at that time 
 about one-half the people of France believed her to be innocent. ED.
 
 4-6 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 half a mile along the road when, to my horror, we were 
 pursued by two men, officers of the Bureau de Surete, 
 in a fiacre. I begged the old coachman to drive on. He 
 did so. We dashed over the Pont de Sevres and flew 
 through Auteuil and Passy, leaving far behind the 
 hired fiacre of the officers; but just as we reached the 
 Neuilly Avenue one of my horses threw a shoe and be- 
 came so lame that he could travel no more, though, per- 
 haps, the family coachman had become too frightened 
 to aid me further. Anyway, by his.assistance I engaged 
 a coupe that chanced along seeking a fare. 
 
 " By this time the officers were again close to me, 
 and chased me into Paris, where probably I would not 
 have escaped them had it not been that the mob in 
 the Rue de la Concorde recognized them as policemen 
 and dragged them out of their carriage. 
 
 " Then then came the dead woman," and the girl 
 goes on and gives Carlo a history of her preceding 
 night in Paris, punctuating it with sighs and em- 
 phasizing its horrors, sometimes, in her agony, with 
 pleading hands that seek his as if for sympathy. 
 
 To this she adds : " I had intended to speak to 
 lawyers, but the fear of prison drove me frantic. All 
 I thought was to get as far from the police as possible 
 to avoid arrest. The dead woman's passport gave me 
 a chance to fly to Italy. On the steamboat I became 
 alarmed at attentions that shocked me. I had no ex- 
 perience of the world ; I had never traveled without pro- 
 tection, without kindness, without love. The awful 
 words of the men on the boat, their brutal compliments, 
 their hideous suggestions of passion drove me to your 
 side as the only man I dared trust. The gendarme 
 frightened me. At one time I thought he was detailed 
 for my seizure, but afterward I learned that he only 
 wanted to degrade me like the rest, and then perhaps, 
 I feared him more. But why need I speak further? 
 Oh, God, forgive you the agony you brought to me, 
 when I thought you were a bandit who was going to 
 murder me for the little money I had with me! But
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 47 
 
 you are, I now think," she adds, a tinge of archness in 
 the sad timbre of her voice, " a fugitive like myself. 
 You feared I was an Austrian spy; that is why you 
 treated me so harshly, but I will forgive you if you say 
 you believe my story." Her clinging hands are clutch- 
 ing his. 
 
 "I do ! " says the cavaliere, after a few moment's 
 contemplation, " though it is a most extraordinary 
 tale, one that would hardly be believed by anyone not 
 appreciating how little you know of the world. Would 
 you like my advice ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes!" 
 
 " Then, frankly, the greatest mistake you have made, 
 Madame la Baronne, has been your flight. You had 
 the money side of the affair. The property was willed 
 to you." 
 
 " But I had no champions. I had only one friend, an 
 old banker, and he was also the friend of my husband's 
 mother." 
 
 " Pish ! Your money would have bought you many 
 advocates; your beauty would have gained you many 
 supporters. A rich and almost childlike widow ! You 
 could have snapped your fingers in the faces of your 
 accusers." 
 
 " But I thought of Madame Lafarge I was frantic 
 with terror at her fate. My husband's mother held it 
 up to me ! " 
 
 "Madame Lafarge's husband died of poisoning; 
 yours did not ; " dissents her adviser. " Had you re- 
 mained in Paris your chances would have been ten to 
 your enemies' one." 
 
 " Then I will go back there ! " cries the girl, an ex- 
 cited hope in her voice. 
 
 " That was before you fled." 
 
 " But I have not been arrested ! " 
 
 " No, but you have made use of a false passport to 
 avoid the police; you have evaded the law as if you 
 were guilty. You have done exactly what your per- 
 secutors wished. It will very shortly be nosed out, by
 
 48 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 the hounds of Monsieur Vidocq, that you left Paris, 
 using the passport of the dead woman, Adele Pichoir, 
 to escape arrest. If you return, you can be sure that 
 your enemies will say that you fled, actuated by the 
 fears of a criminal, but, finding that you could not get 
 out of France, that ultimate escape was hopeless ; then 
 as a last resort you returned to attempt to brazen it 
 out." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, you show me that I am lost ! " sobs the 
 girl. 
 
 There is an unaffected misery in both her voice and 
 manner that gives Da Messina greater faith in her story 
 than he has had before. He had said that he believed 
 her, but it was more to quiet her hysterical, nervous agi- 
 tation than from any absolute conviction of its truth, 
 though many of her actions this day, as he reconsiders 
 them, tend to convince him that the girl's attaching her- 
 self to him has been from fright rather than from arti- 
 fice. 
 
 " Then what do you advise me to do? " she asks, a 
 helpless dejection in her tone. 
 
 " You have no chance with the passport in your hand 
 of escaping arrest. It states that Adele Pichoir is 
 twenty-five you look very much younger. You are 
 described as a seamstress, when your fingers have no 
 needle scars upon them, and seem much too dainty 
 for those of a sewing girl. In addition, probably even 
 by this time, there are sleuth-hounds on your track 
 who have guessed the very passport you are now 
 using." 
 
 '' You think my hackman will play me false? " 
 
 " No ! Because he would get himself into trouble if 
 he did. But the record of passports issued will show 
 one given to the woman, whose death must, by this 
 time, be known to official Paris. Then, the books of 
 the steamboat ticket office will disclose that, though 
 Adele Pichoir is dead, some other woman has used her 
 passport, leaving Paris on the Montereau boat. If 
 they really are in pursuit of you, trust me, lacking
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 49 
 
 other clews, they will follow the woman bearing the 
 passport of Adele Pichoir. This passport you will be 
 compelled to exhibit in order to proceed upon your 
 journey. Even to-morrow morning you won't be able 
 to take the diligence at Troyes until it is inspected. In 
 Lyons, again, it must be examined. Traveling with 
 this passport you will be surely lost, unless Monsieur 
 Vidocq has become imbecile from old age." 
 
 "Mon Dieu aie pitie de moil To be dragged back 
 a criminal my very flight used to prove my guilt," 
 shudders Adrienne, then cries frantically : "Aid me, 
 Monsieur aid me! You have a passport that called 
 for some one traveling with you, some pupil, or appren- 
 tice ; why couldn't I escape from France by that ? " 
 
 Here the gentleman gives a sudden start, and mut- 
 ters : "Santa Maria, that is an idea !" As into the mind 
 of the Cavaliere da Messina suddenly flies the thought : 
 " By the grace of God, here's the pupil apprentice I 
 was to take back to Italy, in my very hands ! " 
 
 " Let me think of your suggestion a moment," he 
 adds. And after some few minutes' contemplation of 
 the chances of the affair turning out properly, he sud- 
 denly turns to the young lady, who has been trying to 
 discern his face by the light of the rising moon, and 
 asks : "Do you think you can look sixteen years of 
 age?" 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur ! I I could try," answers his cap- 
 tive, very eagerly. 
 
 At the naivete of this remark, he bursts out laugh- 
 ing ; then says in business tones : " Here's my word 
 to you, Madame la Baronne. I was to take to Italy an 
 apprenticed pupil, to be taught singing, music, and the 
 arts of the stage. Her parents believed I could make 
 her a diva, though Estelle had a very indifferent voice. 
 Now, my proposition to you is this : You, in place of 
 her, must become my articled apprentice." 
 
 " But that means a a sort of servitude?" falters Adri- 
 enne, a tinge of terror in her voice, for the moonlight 
 has now come into the carriage, and as she watches his
 
 5O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 face, instinctively she feels this man, if she gives herself 
 into his hands, will be her master perhaps at times a 
 very exacting one. 
 
 " In the eyes of my aunt, la Signora Giuseppina Bianr 
 chi, who keeps a school for the training of singing and 
 dancing girls, in Milan, it is servitude to art and also 
 to her. But, I will doubtless be a more easy padrone. 
 Only such is the nature of my journey that I must have 
 implicit obedience from you, which will be for your 
 safety as well as my own, for though there is no abso- 
 lute extradition between France and Italy, the Austrian 
 officials in Lombardy have a habit of delivering any 
 criminal demanded by the French government. Only 
 having made your decision, and given me the oath I 
 shall demand of you, you must remain faithful to it. 
 You must also take the name Estelle Gabrielle 
 Chartres." 
 
 " And if I do not consent ? " 
 
 " Then, of course, we part at Troyes, for I dare no 
 longer assume the risk of one who will be very shortly 
 arrested by the French police. In addition, you must 
 make your decision very quickly." 
 
 " Why can not I have more time to consider ? " 
 
 " For this reason : By a great piece of good fortune 
 and a foolish agent de poste, your passport was not ex- 
 amined at Montereau, the innkeeper mistaking you for 
 my apprentice. Therefore, the police, following the 
 passport of Adele Pichoir, will lose it at that place. But 
 in case you do not agree to my proposition you will be 
 compelled to show your paper at the diligence office at 
 Troyes, and there Monsieur Vidocq's agents will again 
 get track of it and receive, not only the description of 
 your dress, but also your route. Trust me, as Adele 
 Pichoir, you will hardly reach Lyons without falling 
 into your pursuers' hands." 
 
 " Ah ! but if even I do become your apprentice, if my 
 pursuers are at Troyes, they will recognize my dress as 
 that worn by the woman who took her ticket at the 
 Steamboat office. If they reach there later than I do, I
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 5! 
 
 will be described to them as having worn such a gar- 
 ment when I arrived from Montereau." 
 
 " No ! " answers Da Messina, in startling logic. " Be- 
 cause, if you agree to my terms, you will step out of this 
 carriage at Troves, garbed as my apprenticed pupil, 
 Estelle Gabrielle Chartres, and as much like a girl of 
 sixteen as you can get." 
 
 " But, my my clothes ? " 
 
 " You have others in your trunk, I believe." 
 
 " Oh, mercy, I forgot ! In that old trunk are some of 
 the school frocks I wore at the convent." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cries the cavaliere, cheerily, adding, 
 doubtfully. " Will they fit you? " 
 
 " Yes. I am a little taller, but as slight as when I 
 left the Sacre Cceur." 
 
 " Very well. You must make the change in this very 
 carriage." 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! " 
 
 Carlo can guess that Madame la Baronne is" blushing 
 to her eyes. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," he laughs. " Just after day- 
 break I shall get out and leave you to yourself. Before 
 this, at the posthouse, I shall put your valise inside. 
 The first long hill we come to, I shall direct the boys to 
 drive slower, and I shall walk for exercise. When I re- 
 turn, and open the door of this carriage, I shall expect 
 to see you frocked as a schoolgirl and my very docile 
 apprentice. But, do you give your assent? Are you 
 willing to take sacred oath that you will sign articles of 
 indenture to me as Estelle Gabrielle Chartres when pre- 
 pared, and until that time, and after it, be entirely un- 
 der my law and government ? " 
 
 " I " the girl pauses, reluctant hesitation in her 
 voice, "I I must do always your commands?" she 
 asks, nervously. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " If I disobey, I I will be punished ? " her tones are 
 trembling. 
 
 He considers a moment, and then answers : " Cer-
 
 52 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 tainly. Government to be effective must be coercive. 
 As a bound-girl of scarce sixteen, I shall, of course, 
 treat you as a child. I tell you candidly that the lot of 
 an articled apprentice in Italy is by no means luxurious. 
 If by the exigencies of of the business in which I am 
 engaged " he hesitates a little over the term " I 
 should be compelled to leave you under the rule of my 
 aunt, at her hands your duties will be hard, your disci- 
 pline very severe." 
 
 " I Oh, Heaven, let me think! " 
 
 " At your pleasure," murmurs Carlo. " And, with 
 your permission you do not object to a cigar? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; my husband smoked often." 
 
 He lights a weed and puffs it contemplatively, while 
 Madame la Baronne de Portalis tries to bring herself 
 to accept a condition that she dreads. Something in 
 this man's voice tells her that in his hands she will be 
 ruled despotically. 
 
 Suddenly, from behind them, in the quiet of the night, 
 is heard the sound of a galloping horse. 
 
 " They they are pursuing me ! " she gasps. " Yes, 
 yes, Monsieur, I accept the conditions. Save me from 
 them!" 
 
 " Do not let me take advantage of your terror," re- 
 plies Da Messina, coldly. " The night is quite early. 
 The man you dread is probably some farmer making his 
 way home from some village wineshop. Only, after 
 you have given me your oath I can not release you from 
 it." 
 
 " I I accept ! " whispers the trembling girl, per- 
 chance urged to her decision by the apparent re- 
 luctance of the gentleman to coerce her to it. 
 
 " Consider ! There will be no turning back after this, 
 for my safety will depend upon your being my appren- 
 tice and treated as such, especially after we are in Italy." 
 
 " Yes ; I understand. I have considered ; I am ready, 
 Monsieur." 
 
 She is seated opposite to him, but at his command 
 he apparently knowing that ceremony is impressive to
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 53 
 
 girls who have seen little but a convent Adrienne 
 obediently places her slight hands, which seem to him 
 icy cold and tremble a little, between his strong ones. 
 So posed, she half ejaculates, half sighs out, the oath 
 he dictates to her, for its words make her understand 
 that she is swearing away her liberty of action by 
 everything she holds sacred in this world and the next. 
 
 " You understand thoroughly your position to me ? " 
 he says, impressively, when she has completed her ad- 
 juration. 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur," she answers, her voice low 
 in resignation and clear with mental conviction. " I am 
 your bound-girl. As I surrendered to you my liberty, 
 I remembered what I had read of Italian padronage. 
 For the term of my agreement, I am little better 
 than your serf. You instruct me in what you think is 
 to your interest. At your word I shall be compelled to 
 sing or dance upon the stage, and my earnings go to 
 you. If I am rebellious, I have read that girls of my 
 kind are well beaten in Italy. I know my fate." 
 
 " Pish ! Under my hand you will not, I hope, fare so 
 badly," remarks il cavaliere, dryly, adding, cheerily: 
 " Who knows ; some day I may make you a prima 
 donna." 
 
 The firmness of her tone astonishes him. It indi- 
 cates that, though inexperienced in the world, this 
 widow, who is still almost a child, has an intelligence 
 to comprehend and a courage to meet her cruel situa- 
 tion. This will, in some respects, make his coercion of 
 her easier, in others much more difficult; so he con- 
 tinues, commandingly : " From this moment, remem- 
 ber that you are no more Madame la Baronne de 
 Portalis. You are now my bound-girl, Estelle 
 Gabrielle Chartres. Repeat your new name after me, 
 so that you will know it ! " 
 
 This she does several times, in clear, cold, decided 
 tones, answering when he calls her " Estelle " and re-
 
 54 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 plying when he addresses her as " Mademoiselle 
 Chartres." 
 
 But, this lesson being over, Adrienne remarks, a 
 pleading in her tone : " Now, surely, you may trust 
 me enough to release me entirely ! Believe me, Mon- 
 sieur, I will be very obedient." 
 
 " Oh, in the darkness I forgot ! Pardon me," Carlo 
 mutters, and, reaching down, unties the scarf from his 
 apprentice's pretty feet. These, he now perceives, are 
 very high instepped and her slight ankles are exquisitely 
 rounded. 
 
 A moment after, having apparently, made up his mind 
 to a distinct line of action, her padrone, for as such 
 Adrienne now regards him, says suddenly : " Estelle, 
 you must sleep now, in order to be strong for your 
 morning's ordeal." 
 
 She starts at her new name, but answers : " Yes, I 
 I am very tired. All last night, in the little room at 
 Mere Grenouile's, I awoke at every passing sound, fear- 
 ing it was the officers making demand for me." 
 
 Even while she is speaking, with an air of authority, 
 the gentleman has deftly arranged one seat of the ve- 
 hicle so that his charge can recline, and made a pillow 
 of a rug that the postchaise contains. Obeying his 
 directions, she places her head upon it. He throws a robe 
 over her, and whispers : " Think no more for yourself. 
 This journey is now my affair. I will take care that it is 
 for you a safe one." 
 
 His words seem to lift a load off this girl, who, until 
 these last few days, has scarce attempted to guide her- 
 self. With a little sigh, half of helplessness, half of 
 rest, she closes her eyes, and after a few minutes her 
 guardian is pleased to see that insensibility has come to 
 his charge. 
 
 "Basta!" he communes with himself. "She'll be 
 an awful responsibility, upon this journey." Then he 
 turns eyes of sympathy upon the sleeping girl, and mut- 
 ters : " Poor devil her terror makes me pretty certain 
 her story is true. But, all the same, Madame la Baronne
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. 55 
 
 will have to be taught absolute obedience, for on it will 
 depend not only her safety, but my safety, and in this 
 crisis of my country I will give Italy every chance." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MADAME LA BARONNE. 
 
 Some hours after this, as daylight is coming into the 
 coach windows, Adrienne finds herself awakened firmly, 
 yet considerately. The cavaliere is whispering to her, 
 " We are nearing the posthouse, where I must have your 
 trunk put into the carriage." 
 
 " I I am so so very sleepy," mutters his charge, 
 her half-closed eyes peering about the coach in a dazed 
 way. For a moment she thinks the whole affair a 
 dream, but his hand is upon her shoulder, and his voice 
 says, sharply : " Estelle, arouse yourself at once ! This 
 is the only chance for you to make your change of 
 dress." 
 
 Her new name smites her with the truth. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, I Oh, Heaven ! " she mur- 
 murs, frantically. " It is true ; I remember I am a 
 fugitive. I must do this to escape ? " As she speaks, 
 her tone grows more resolute. 
 
 " Yes. To prevent any one noticing you, I will per- 
 sonally place the trunk in the coach." 
 
 Two minutes after they are halted, changing horses 
 at the posthouse. 
 
 " Would you care for a glass of wine ? I'll try and 
 get one," he suggests. 
 
 " No, but I'd like a drink of water," she answers 
 eagerly. 
 
 This he brings to her with his own hand. 
 
 " Now for your trunk," he whispers, and a little ad- 
 miration, likewise a little awe, flies into the young 
 .widow's eyes as Carlo da Messina shows an athlete's
 
 56 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 strength handling the trunk with about the ease ordi- 
 nary men would a carpet-bag. She can not help con- 
 trasting him with her late senile husband. 
 
 Putting this into the interior of the vehicle, his new 
 protegee having no key for it, her mentor quickly forces 
 the lock, and displays before her its contents, at which 
 she bursts out sobbing : 
 
 " God pity me ! These are the relics of my girlhood ; 
 the trinkets I had in the convent when I was happy. 
 Mon Dieu, what a fate has come upon me ! " 
 
 " To escape that fate ! " Carlo commands, sternly. 
 " For your safety, for my safety, Estelle, you must con- 
 quer your emotions and do my bidding." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! my my new name," she whispers. 
 Then as they drive along she murmurs to him : " Yes, 
 I understand. I am to try and look sixteen, and be 
 very obedient. I am your bound-girl, Monsieur " 
 this last with an attempted archness in her voice. 
 
 " Yes. The postboys inform me that a good long 
 hill is a mile or so ahead. By that time it will be light 
 enough for you to make your schoolgirl toilet. There I 
 shall get out and walk. The postilions will doubtless 
 drive slowly up the ascent. I will make them linger as 
 long as possible, to give you ample opportunity, though 
 be as quick as you can." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I comprehend," and as she speaks Adri- 
 enne goes to looking over and selecting the articles for 
 her purpose. 
 
 ) Ten minutes later, drawing down the blinds on the 
 windows, Carlo steps out of the carriage, and, lifting 
 his hat, cries : " Estelle, I shall take a little exercise ! " 
 
 They are approaching the beautiful vine country, 
 through whose hills the Seine, a little river now, 
 dashes brightly on. The sunrise of the bright, crisp 
 winter morning makes even the leafless picture a pleas- 
 ant one ; the smoke from the chimneys of a neighboring 
 hamlet seems to give it life and movement. Dividing 
 his time between the view and the puffs of a well- 
 flavored cigar, il Cavaliere da Messina contrives to
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 57 
 
 spend a passable half-hour strolling, a little distance 
 behind the chaise, up the long hill, as the postboys walk 
 their horses. The sun is now brilliant in the heavens. 
 
 He steps up to the carriage that has nearly reached 
 the summit, and, rapping lightly upon the panel of the 
 door, asks, " Are you ready, Estelle ? " 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur, no ! I I have on but one shoe be- 
 sides, my my hair ! " 
 
 " Very well ; take five minutes more ! " he laughs, and 
 finishes his cigar as he chats with the postilions, who 
 [walk their horses to the apex of the rise. 
 
 " Are you ready now, Estelle? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, quite ready ! " A light hand lets 
 the blinds of the carriage windows fly up. 
 
 Opening the door, Carlo da Messina pauses, astound- 
 ed. Fine feathers make fine birds, but here is one who, 
 though not in fine feathers, is a very fine bird, for 
 Adrienne only has needed a chance to show her youth- 
 ful, vivacious face, which as yet has not been matured 
 by passion, to make a very beautiful picture, and her 
 toilet gives to the young widow a very juvenile appear- 
 ance. This is emphasized by the shyness of her eyes 
 and the embarrassment of her manner, though Da Mes- 
 sina can not help noticing the grace of her bearing and 
 the resolution in her bright face. She is costumed a la 
 schoolgirl in a frock she probably had worn when she 
 was only sixteen, for its skirt of soft gray cloth doesn't 
 reach the ground by some few inches. Peeping out 
 from it, after the fashion of the day, are two little feet 
 in high-heeled shoes, draped to the delicate ankles by 
 profusely frilled and ruffled trousers of snowiest linen. 
 Upon her blushing head is a white hat of leghorn strau , 
 trimmed by a single white ribbon. From beneath this, 
 in luxurious bands, her brown hair gleams in the sun as 
 it is gathered about her shapely head and braided into 
 one long, luxuriant queue that dangles even below her 
 waist, where it is ended and adorned by a piquant bow 
 of white ribbon.
 
 58 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 "Santa Maria!" ejaculates the gentleman, a curious 
 gleam in his dark eyes, as he steps in beside her. 
 
 " You you like my frock ? " whispers the lady. 
 
 " Yes ; only I am afraid that you will attract too much 
 attention from gentlemen." 
 
 " Is that always a fault? " 
 
 " No ; but in your case it would be a misfortune. The 
 less remark we cause, the easier will be our journey. 
 And now you will excuse me." Carlo's face grows very 
 red, for a moment his voice seems to hesitate. Then he 
 goes stoutly on : "I have to speak to you about money. 
 Anything more than a few francs in the pocket of a 
 singing-girl would be more than suspicious. I must 
 ask you to let me take charge of your money. Believe 
 me, I shall account to you for every sou of this when 
 our compact is over." 
 
 For one instant Adrienne's face grows pale with sus- 
 picion. Then, the common-sense of his suggestion 
 striking her, without a word she produces from the dis- 
 carded brown dress the packet of billets de banque she 
 has sewn inside of it, and also tenders him her purse. 
 
 At sight of this he sneers : " Cospetto, a portemon- 
 naie, with a coronet on it ! Oh, you would have made 
 a most plausible sewing-girl! This pocketbook must 
 go into the fire ; this brown dress of the dead woman's 
 everything that tends to link you to your former life." 
 
 " My schoolgirl trinkets ? This picture of my dead 
 mother ! " half shrieks the girl. 
 
 " No ; I I will make a sealed packet of them, and 
 leave them with a banker in Troyes," interjects her gov- 
 ernor. " I can not ask you to sacrifice so much. Then 
 you can send for them at a later and, perhaps, happier 
 day." 
 
 " Oh, thank you thank you ! " whispers Adrienne, 
 her eyes growing bright with gratitude. 
 
 " Your clothes in your trunk are marked ? " he sug- 
 gests. 
 
 " By my maiden initials, A. R., which will not sug-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 59 
 
 gest to prying eyes the name of De Portalis," answers 
 Adrienne. 
 
 " But even these must, at the first opportunity, be 
 changed to the initials of Estelle Gabrielle Chartres," 
 suggests her mentor. " Here are a few francs and some 
 pennies to put in your pocket. These are even more 
 than a girl in your position ought to carry. Believe me, 
 this money business is the hardest part of my duty to 
 you my duty to myself for your fate and mine are 
 now linked very closely together; remember that, Es- 
 telle!" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I understand," falters the young lady, bit- 
 ing her lip and feeling that now she is indeed dependent 
 upon her ruler. 
 
 A moment later she suggests diffidently, as if fearing 
 refusal : " We are at another small hill. I have been in 
 the carriage so long, a little exercise would be pleasant 
 to me ; can I get out and walk ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly. The winter air is brisk. Permit 
 me," and Carlo shawls her carefully. As he does so, he 
 notes that the only contradictions to extreme youth in 
 his pupil are the exquisite contours of her figure, whose 
 rounded outlines, both of bust and limbs, indicate bud- 
 ding womanhood. Fortunately, these are rendered in- 
 distinct by a childish corsage, whose loose drapery par- 
 tially conceals her graces. 
 
 " We'll take a stroll together." He steps out and cour- 
 teously, even ceremoniously, assists her from the ve- 
 hicle. 
 
 As he stands before her in the sunlight, she fur- 
 tively glances up at his face, studying the countenance 
 of this man in whose hands fate has placed her. A look 
 of confidence comes into her eyes. Whatever else he 
 may be, her padrone is certainly a gentleman. The sun- 
 light playing about his handsome face shows very clear- 
 ly the refinement of his determined features, the tender- 
 ness of his eyes being contradicted by lips that are firm, 
 though passionate. Altogether, il Cavaliere Carlo da 
 Messina, with his erect, graceful figure, dark, curly
 
 60 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 hair, and tang, drooping mustache, makes an impressive 
 picture, his gestures at times giving a romantic, perhaps 
 even a theatrical, vivacity to his appearance. 
 
 But as she gazes Adrienne catches a glint in his eyes 
 that makes her stammer, a slight tremor on her delicate 
 lips : " You you are displeased with me? " 
 
 "lam!" 
 
 " Oh, what have I done?" 
 
 " You are careless ! " 
 
 The coach is already well in advance of them on its 
 way up the hill. As they stroll after it, he continues : 
 " A wedding-ring on your finger is not very appropriate 
 for a schoolgirl of sixteen ! " 
 
 " Oh I I forgot ! " stammers his protegee. 
 
 " Take it from your finger at once ! " 
 
 Carlos's tone is more severe than he intends it to be, 
 for, as he glances at the beautiful widow, who stands 
 in almost childish loveliness, now so completely in his 
 power, the first curious gleam of a latent jealousy for 
 the man who had once called this graceful creature 
 " wife " comes into his heart. 
 
 Therefore his eyes are stern also as he remarks : 
 
 " You certainly must see, Estelle, that every relic of 
 your former life must be put away from you." 
 
 " Yes, of course ; I I understand," mutters his ap- 
 prentice, as she removes the ring from her finger. 
 
 " Give it to me ! " 
 
 " But oh, please it is '" 
 
 " Yes, I understand precisely what it is." 
 
 " But you will not destroy it? " 
 
 " No, I will place it with the other articles you cher- 
 ish, and deposit all under seal, as I before told you, with 
 the banker at Troyes. Pardon me if I seem harsh, but 
 we are both compelled to extreme circumspection." 
 Then, as if wishing to change the course of the girl's 
 thoughts, he speaks more lightly : " By the bye, as I am 
 your music teacher, tell me what you know about the 
 art. Sing for me the diatonic scale, ascending and de-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 6l 
 
 scending. Of course you learned that much at the con- 
 vent?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " And Adrienne, in trembling voice and 
 with some hesitation, runs through the exercise for him. 
 
 " Now the chromatic, ascending, descending." And 
 his pupil doing as she is bid, he remarks : " It would 
 not be bad if you were not so agitated. You, I can see, 
 have a correct ear, which is of vital importance. A 
 voice may be improved, even manufactured ; but with- 
 out an ear, music is an impossibility. You play ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I was taught at the convent both the piano 
 and the harp." 
 
 " Then probably you perform on these instruments 
 very indifferently," remarks the artist, with the usual 
 contempt of the professional for the amateur. " But at 
 the first opportunity I will try you. You dance, of 
 course? " He glances at her slight, graceful figure, and 
 now perceives that she is of the medium height ; but her 
 short skirts apparently diminish her stature. 
 
 " Oh, yes, a a little, Monsieui. I was instructed at 
 Sacre Cccur; but I only went to one or two balls. You 
 you see, my husband was very jealous of me! " 
 
 " I hope you didn't give him cause," returns the ca- 
 valiere, stifling a grin. 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur ! " the startled tone and blushes of his 
 charge answer him ; but he looks at her innocent face, 
 and, noting that some day it will be a passionate one, 
 goes on, in a tone that makes her hang her head : " Now, 
 listen to me ! I shall allow no affairs with gentlemen, 
 Estelle. They will disturb your studies ; they will de- 
 stroy your stage work. Situated as you now are, your 
 very bread and butter compels you to make a histrionic 
 success. Mark me, the first suspicion of a flirtation, I 
 call you to account. You understand me ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answers, simply, looking him in the 
 face, though there is a strange shyness in her tone. 
 
 " Now," he goes on, briskly ; " as soon as possible I 
 shall hear you declaim and sing, and see you dance, and 
 then determine what line of dramatic work will be the
 
 62 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 best for you. You speak German, I know, but not 
 Italian?" 
 
 " No ; I have read it a little. I would like to learn the 
 language of romance and passion." The girl's eyes light 
 up as they look upon her handsome preceptor. 
 
 " For the operatic stage it is essential that you do. I 
 will begin to instruct you in it at once." With this, he 
 gives her a short lecture on the elements of his language, 
 but finishes abruptly, saying : " The postboys are wait- 
 ing for us. We must hurry to Troyes. There I must 
 have at least an hour before the diligence from Paris 
 arrives." So he puts her in the carriage, and, encourag- 
 ing their postilions by the promise of gratuity, they 
 dash rapidly along over the well-kept posting road. 
 
 They have scarce seated themselves, when he sug- 
 gests : " You must know something of your new self, 
 Estelle Gabrielle Chartres," and gives his apprentice 
 a short account of the girl whose place she has taken, 
 adding : " Now, collect the trinkets, valuables, and 
 letters you wish me to deposit for you at Troyes. I 
 believe I know the right man, an old local banker, 
 Darton, on the Rue de la Cite." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " murmurs Adrienne, in grateful 
 tones, doing as she is bid, though tears come into her 
 eyes as she bends over her open trunk and takes adieu 
 of the souvenirs of a past that seems now so absolutely 
 cut off from her. 
 
 A moment later, Carlo makes a packet of the articles 
 she has selected in some stout wrapping paper that the 
 girl, fortunately, finds in her trunk. " Quick ! " he says, 
 in rapid voice. " The brown dress, and all other belong- 
 ings of Adele Pichoir. You must also sweep your trunk 
 clear of any convent articles that may link you to 
 Madame la Baronne de Portalis." 
 
 And she surrendering these to him, he commands : 
 " Make another search ! Be very sure you leave no 
 trace behind you. I shall have a big fire in my room at 
 the hotel in Troyes, and these will all disappear in
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS, 63 
 
 smoke. The packet I shall carefully seal and deposit for 
 you." 
 
 " No, there is nothing else ; you have everything that 
 that links me to my old life," she sighs. 
 
 " Now I have all, except the passport of Adele 
 Pichoir that is very important. Please give it to me 
 at once," he remarks, briskly. 
 
 " The the passport? " she stammers. 
 
 " Yes ; I must use it to dupe the officers who are seek- 
 ing you." 
 
 But here she horrifies him by faltering : " The pass- 
 port is gone. While dressing I tore up the paper of 
 Adele Pichoir, and threw the little bits out of the car- 
 riage window. They are scattered along the road." 
 
 " Maladetto!" he gasps. "All last night I plotted 
 that that passport should be shown from one town to 
 another leading the hounds of Monsieur Vidocq upon 
 the track of Adele Pichoir to Belgium, thereby giving 
 you free journey to the south with me." 
 
 "You could have done that?" she ejaculates in 
 amazed unbelief. 
 
 " Certainly ! The Society of Young Italy has mem- 
 bers in every town in France ! " he says, impressively. 
 " And now my plans for you are naught ! " There is 
 a sadness in his voice that touches the girl. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me ! " she pleads. " Last night, while 
 I slept, you were thinking for my safety ? " 
 
 " Yes, a little. But, Dio mio, your action has placed 
 new difficulties before us." He is speaking with Latin 
 explosiveness. " From now on, in word and deed, you 
 must be absolutely my bound-girl, Estelle Gabrielle 
 Chartres. Dash from your head that you were once 
 Madame la Baronne de Portalis. From this moment 
 you must assume the actions of your station. You must 
 address me as ' Mio padrone; ' you must courtesy when 
 I speak to you ; you must come when I call ' Estelle ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes, sir, I I understand." 
 
 " Now, let me teach you who thy padrone is. You 
 must know me as ' il Cavaliere Carlo Tomasso da Mes-
 
 64 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 sina/ at one time teacher of the voice at the Conserva- 
 tory di Santa Maria, Naples, and also, occasionally, to 
 favorite pupils in the school of my aunt, Signora Bian- 
 chi, at Milan, but perhaps more generally known to the 
 world upon the stage of the opera at La Scala and La 
 Fenice as ' Pergolese.' ' 
 
 " What ! " screams the girl. " Carlo Pergolese, the 
 tenor about whom all Italy raves! Oh, Monsieur, I 
 have read of your triumphs ! " 
 
 " Thank you, little one," returns the artist, smiling 
 suavely at the compliment not only of Adrienne's lips, 
 but of her eyes, for these are turned upon him in a kind 
 of admiring wonder. 
 
 " But we have got dust upon that pretty jupe and 
 those white trousers," he laughs, and with the easy 
 familiarity of authority he stands his pupil on her feet 
 and brushes the dirt from her frock with his handker- 
 chief, as she blushingly turns her eyes from his. " And 
 now sit up on the seat and look most demurely juvenile, 
 for we are very close to Troyes, where you are going to 
 be the most retiring, modest little chick in France." 
 
 " You you think I will look young enough ? " she 
 asks, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes hardly over fifteen," says her mentor cheerily. 
 " You understand thoroughly that for your safety you 
 will be treated like a little girl." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Monsieur ; I understand ! " and her face 
 grows haughty, then tears fly into the bright eyes of 
 Madame la Baronne. 
 
 So they dash through the streets of the quaint and 
 ancient town, once the capital of Champagne, and draw 
 up in the courtyard of the old-fashioned Hotel de la 
 Croix d'Or. 
 
 Here Carlo, springing from the carriage, calls : " Es- 
 telle, petite, step out ! " 
 
 And she, faltering, " Yes, mio padrone," prepares to 
 descend from the vehicle. Even as she places her little 
 hand upon his proffered arm she seems to shrink from 
 he ordeal of a new childhood.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 65 
 
 The provincial courtyard is full of lounging post- 
 boys, tourists, travelers, and a few ladies, who are about 
 taking the diligence going north. The one coming from 
 Paris, Da Messina is delighted to learn, will probably 
 not arrive for a couple of hours. 
 
 " It has been delayed by the revolution," he is told by 
 the bustling matre d'hotel, who comes out in person to 
 welcome the new arrivals, for everyone here seems to be 
 aware of the fact that Louis Philippe has been over- 
 thrown and fled. 
 
 But in the midst of his speech the landlord, suddenly 
 turning his eyes to the carriage, remarks : " Monsieur, 
 what a pretty I I mean haughty child you have 
 under your your charge ! " The last of this is an 
 agitated stammer, for the " pretty child " has given him 
 a very savage look. 
 
 " Yes, my apprentice, whom I am taking to Italy to 
 educate for the operatic stage," remarks the cavaliere 
 carelessly ; then says hastily, for he is anxious to get out 
 of the crowd, " Descend at once, Estelle ! " 
 
 With this, Madame la Baronne puts her pretty foot 
 on the step of the carriage and, feeling strangely em- 
 barrassed in the short skirts of childhood, descends into 
 the courtyard. 
 
 Excessive modesty usually attracts attention. The 
 gaze of the loungers at the hotel entrance naturally rests 
 upon the charming yet shrinking figure. Under their 
 curious glances Adrienne for one moment is strangely 
 haughty; then, thinking of her short skirts, is very 
 blushing, shy, and bashful, even as a young girl should 
 be. She only wants to get out of the public eye, her 
 agitation being increased by the sight of a man who 
 has just ridden in on horseback, bringing some further 
 news from Paris, he says. But some woman's instinct 
 makes her suspicious of the fellow. 
 
 In this wish she is very shortly accommodated. 
 Without consulting her, Da Messina immediately leads 
 his protegee into the p?xrlor, ?nd as soon as arrangements 
 are made conducts her to a little chamber. Glancing in,
 
 66 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 he remarks : " This is at your service. Make yourself 
 as comfortable as possible. By my order, there is a fire, 
 and your trunk is ready for you. The diligence from 
 Paris has been delayed, and will not be here for some 
 time. You had better sleep, or would you first prefer a 
 cup of coffee? I would send up your breakfast, but I 
 wish you to take that meal with me in the dining salon. 
 It is prudent for us to be seen together and you recog- 
 nized as under my direction." 
 
 " I thank you for your consideration," answers Adri- 
 enne. " No need of the coffee; I am quite tired." 
 
 " Then au revoir. I go to deposit your valuables." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 She turns to enter the room, but he calls her back, and 
 says sharply : " You forget ! " 
 
 "Forget what?" 
 
 " The courtesy it is necessary for you to make when 
 you leave your padrone," he says sharply. " Make me 
 a low one, so that you will remember the next time." 
 
 For one second Madame la Baronne's eyes flash, and 
 a red spot comes upon either cheek, which before this 
 had been quite pale. Then, draping her skirts in school- 
 girl fashion with either hand, she sweeps down till her 
 dainty knee touches the floor, and, rising, says : " Is 
 that precise enough, mio padrone? " the words seeming 
 to linger in her throat, as she enters the bedroom and 
 closes the door behind her. 
 
 With every nerve in her body bounding in rebellion, 
 she stamps her little feet till the well-starched frills on 
 her white trousers rustle, and mutters to herself : " Not 
 even a kind glance ! Dressed as a child ; treated as 
 if I were the veriest infant ! I'll I'll " 
 
 But whatever resolve is in her pretty head, it never 
 escapes, for just here she starts and opens her ears, and 
 after a few moments her face becomes suddenly pale. 
 Then listening again, her eyes grow agonized. 
 
 Two men pass through the lobby just outside her 
 room. She can hear them step into the next apartment. 
 This is en suite with her chamber, connected by a door,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 67 
 
 which is apparently secured and bolted, as she notices 
 some one is trying the lock. 
 
 Then a cautious voice remarks : " Innkeeper, we have 
 no neighbors here ? " 
 
 " No, only a girl, who amounts to nothing going to 
 Italy to be taught to sing and dance upon the stage, I 
 believe; a mere child, who has been so ruled that she 
 trembles at every one's glance, and most of all at her 
 padrone's, who, I can see, has a very strict hand with 
 her." In this reply she recognizes the voice of the 
 aubergiste. 
 
 " Very well, then, I will come to business. I did not 
 dare question you in the publicity of your office," says 
 the other. " I am an employee of Monsieur Vidocq's 
 private inquiry office, on the Rue Vivienne. I want to 
 know if you have seen in the last few hours a woman 
 giving the name or using the passport of Adele Pi- 
 choir?" 
 
 At this there is a little moaning gasp from Adrienne 
 under her breath. 
 
 " No. No such woman is registered here," replies 
 the landlord. 
 
 " In case she should be, you must notify me at once. 
 This woman Adele Pichoir was killed two nights ago." 
 
 " Diable! Then you should seek her in the other 
 world ! " grins the innkeeper. 
 
 " Mille tonnerrcsl" growls the other. "Don't play 
 with an officer of justice. This passport of Adele Pi- 
 choir was used by a woman taking the boat to Monte- 
 reau. It is the woman using the false passport whom 
 we are seeking. One of us was dispatched last evening 
 to Montereau, but it struck Monsieur Vidocq that the 
 culprit might journey by private conveyance from that 
 town to this place, as the passport is issued to Lyons 
 and Marseilles ; so I have come hurriedly on to discover 
 if she is in Troyes. The fugitive will look much young- 
 er than the age mentioned on the passport, twenty-five. 
 She will also be aristocratic, though her papers will 
 state she is a seamstress. I will now go to the De la
 
 68 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Fontaine, and also inspect all other inns of the town. 
 But remember, there is a reward of ten thousand francs 
 for the woman I seek, and a little of it may find its 
 way into your pocket, Monsieur Innkeeper, if you help 
 me." 
 
 " Sacrc bleu! Then I will keep a sharp eye for Adele 
 what was her name? " 
 
 " Adele Pichoir," repeats the officer. " You can re- 
 serve this room for me ; I will make it my headquarters 
 while I am in your town. Twenty-four hours will prob- 
 ably settle whether the woman comes here or not." 
 
 " Ten thousand francs ! " laughs the landlord. " We 
 will go and have a glass of wine together, in hope of 
 getting some of it." 
 
 And the two leave the room, their hurried footsteps 
 beating a tattoo on Adrienne's heart, as she mutters : 
 " Oh, I am indeed in the toils ! I have no hope outside 
 of my padrone that's what he is ; that's what he must 
 be ! Oh, why is he so stern with me ? If he would be 
 but a little kinder to me, I would " 
 
 But a blush checks the sentence, as this youthful 
 widow sinks into a chair, wringing her hands help- 
 lessly, the terror of the pursued and the hunted-down 
 being upon her.
 
 BOOK II. 
 A PATRIOT CONSPIRATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE AUSTRIAN CAPTAIN. 
 
 Consequently, when, about an hour after this, Carlo 
 da Messina, who has received good news from Italy by 
 a compatriot in the town, raps upon the door of his pro- 
 tegee's room, and calls quite cheerily, " Estelle, in half 
 an hour, breakfast ! " it is immediately opened by a very 
 wild-eyed young lady, who puts her finger upon her 
 pale lips, and whispers : " For the love of God, take me 
 where I can speak to you and not be overheard ! " 
 
 Her appearance indicates to her guardian that some- 
 thing extraordinary has happened. He says calmly but 
 loudly for the benefit of any neighboring ears, " Very 
 well, since you are prepared, Estelle, we will take a little 
 walk before breakfast." As they pass down the stairs 
 together, Carlo chats to Adrienne upon the ordinary 
 business of their journey, stating that, by a gentleman 
 and his wife having postponed their trip to Lyons, he 
 has been enabled to book two seats in the diligence for 
 Chalons, adding : " There we will take steamboat down 
 the Saone, and pass a quiet Sunday in commercial 
 Lyons, where you can have a day's rest, petite." 
 ' While he is speaking, they have stepped out of the 
 courtyard of the hotel. Wandering through the nar- 
 row streets of the old town, they shortly find themselves 
 upon some open fields, which have since been made into 
 the Boulevard Gambetta. 
 
 Here, looking carefully around and observing only
 
 70 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 some distant laborers and gardeners, her mentor says to 
 her : " Now tell me your story, child." 
 
 And she affrightedly describes what she had over- 
 heard in the adjoining room. 
 
 At her story his face grows serious. " You see," he 
 whispers, " what a poor chance you would have had 
 bearing the passport of Adele Pichoir. Now, however, 
 I think I can make everything very safe for you. Listen 
 to my directions. In case this mouchard, learning that 
 we have come from Montereau, should attempt to ques- 
 tion you " 
 
 " What shall I say to him ? " asks Adrienne, in eager 
 agitation. 
 
 " Only this : that you are not permitted by your pa- 
 drone to speak to gentlemen. That will settle the matter. 
 Diable! If you should attempt explanation to the spy, 
 your frightened manner would perhaps betray you." 
 He gazes a little more tenderly at Madame la Baronne, 
 who, under his inspection, is blushing delightfully. 
 
 Then he continues : " I have the receipt for your val- 
 uables from the banker in the Rue de la Cite. This I 
 shall indorse over to you when you are safe in Italy. As 
 we return to the hotel, in excuse for our walk, we will 
 make a purchase." 
 
 In the streets of the town they soon find a bookstore. 
 Here they buy an Italian grammar. As they come out, 
 he taps the volume lightly, and remarks : " Estelle, in 
 the diligence this will be useful. When you feel em- 
 barrassed, hide your face in the book. Besides, as you 
 have to study Italian, your time will not be thrown 
 away." 
 
 So they stroll back to the hotel, where, appetite hav- 
 ing come with her walk to his bashful eleve, Carlo leads 
 his beautiful charge into the dining-room. Here, seated 
 vis-a-vis with her guardian at a little table, Mademois- 
 elle Estelle Gabrielle Chartres goes through her break- 
 fast so prettily that many masculine eyes are attracted 
 to this blushing girl, who seems just on the border-line 
 of childhood and womanhood.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 71 
 
 Once or twice during the progress of the repast she 
 seems surprised, as she is treated quite en fillette, and is 
 not consulted as to what dishes she would like, though 
 a very good but plain meal has been selected for her. 
 
 She fights down a moue at this, for she has sense 
 enough to perceive that the younger she is considered 
 the less chance of suspicion coming upon her. Then, 
 imagining she sees the pursuing officer de surete looking 
 into the dining-room, she attempts to play her role ; but 
 doing this a little boisterously, her guardian suddenly 
 .whispers to her : " Be careful ! You are attracting the 
 attention of several gentlemen in the dining-room." 
 
 " Pish ! I am only a child," she whispers, rather 
 mutinously. 
 
 " But not too young a child to be interesting. That 
 tall man over there " 
 
 " Oh ! The one in the Austrian uniform ! He is 
 very handsome." 
 
 " Diavolo ! You have been using your eyes, eh ? He 
 is booked in the diligence coupe with us to Chalons." 
 
 " Ah, then, remembering your commands, I shall 
 read my Italian grammar ! " remarks Estelle, demurely, 
 and finishes her breakfast. 
 
 Noting this, her padrone says : " The coach will 
 soon be at the door." And, leading her to the waiting- 
 room, he steps out to arrange about their luggage. 
 
 A moment after, Madame la Baronne starts and 
 trembles. The mouchard, the dreaded mouchard, is 
 speaking to her. 
 
 In this she is right, for learning from the proprietor 
 of the hotel, who is anxious to assist him, that the pretty 
 girl in the parlor has this morning arrived from Monte- 
 reau, with her padrone, the officer of the Bureau de 
 Surete has stepped up to her. He is quite a dapper fel- 
 low, but is dressed and disguised as a middle-class shop- 
 keeper. In the easy unrefinement a man of the people 
 would use to a child, he addresses the fugitive : " Ma 
 petite, you came from Montereau last night, didn't you, 
 and arrived in Troyes this morning ? "
 
 72 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " You you will pardon me, Monsieur," falters Adri- 
 enne, whose very agitation seems to declare her ex- 
 treme youth, as she rises. " My my padrone does 
 not permit me to converse with gentlemen." 
 
 " Oho ! " chuckles the police spy. " Parblcu, he is 
 right, with that pretty face of yours! But you can 
 surely tell me a few words about your journey ? " 
 
 But here he is checked by Adrienne's stammering 
 affrightedly : " Monsieur, I beg you, my my master 
 is coming. He he will see us! I I shall be pun- 
 ished. I " 
 
 " Diable! Your padrone must be a monster! " jeers 
 the man ; but turns away, thinking : " This poor little 
 bashful fool could not tell me anything. Perhaps this 
 Italian singing master, who apparently bullies her, may 
 give me more information." So, il cavaliere coming up, 
 he says to him : " May I beg a word with you, illustri- 
 ous Signore? I believe I have observed you on the 
 boulevards of Paris." 
 
 " Possibly with Monsieur Cremieux, who is my 
 bosom friend," returns Carlo. " What can I do for 
 you?" 
 
 This mention of the greaty deputy of the successful 
 revolution makes the police spy very affable to the 
 Italian, as they stroll to the cafe together, where Carlo 
 listens to his questions about a woman journeying on 
 the Montereau boat, and receives quite an accurate de- 
 scription of the brown dress that an hour ago he had 
 cremated over a blazing fire in his chamber in this 
 hotel. 
 
 " Yes, I believe I did see someone like the person you 
 mention on the Montereau boat," replies Da Messina, 
 affably. " I believe, after landing, I saw her no more. 
 But she could have hardly come this way, because 
 only one postchaise was obtainable at the Cheval Blanc, 
 and that brought me and my apprentice. Is there 
 anything else? " 
 
 " No only if Monsieur would mention me to Mon- 
 sieur Cremieux as an industrious officer, it would do
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 73 
 
 me no harm. He will probably be one of the provi- 
 sional government," suggests the man. 
 
 " When I return to Paris, call upon me," replies the 
 cavaliere. " But now you will excuse me. The dili- 
 gence is driving up." 
 
 The next minute Adrienne utters a sigh of relief as 
 she is very carefully cloaked by her guardian and led 
 from the officer, whose glances she fears, to be seated 
 in the coupe, the most pleasant portion of the vehicle, 
 its glass doors and front permitting a complete view of 
 the country. 
 
 Into this also steps the handsome Austrian officer, 
 who announces in his affable Viennese way that he 
 is en route to resume his duties in Milan. " So I am 
 happy to say we will journey together as far as Cha- 
 lons," he says, and presents his card to Da Messina, 
 who, reading on it " Captain Franz Paulus Radetzky, 
 Regiment Maria Theresa," bows and presents his. 
 
 Glancing at it, the Austrian's face lights up. He 
 cries : " Oho ! I am honored. Carlo Pergolese. I 
 thought I recognized your face, Signore ; but, of course, 
 as Don Giovanni, on the stage of La Scala, your ap- 
 pearance was somewhat different from what it is at 
 present." Then, in South German frankness, he laughs : 
 " And you, who play the Lothario to the very life, are 
 now the protector of innocence ! " 
 
 His glance at Adrienne suggests an introduction, but 
 her padrone simply remarks : " My apprentice, who is 
 to be educated for the stage in Italy." Then turning to 
 his charge, Da Messina suggests : " Now, Estelle, you 
 will have a chance to study Italian," adding a few re- 
 marks upon the irregular verbs in that language. 
 
 For a moment his protegee looks mutinous. She 
 would much sooner watch the diligence, with its five 
 clumsy horses in their old-fashioned rope harness, and 
 listen to the excited crowd standing about it. A mo- 
 ment later she inwardly thanks her guardian that he 
 has given her opportunity to conceal the pallid agita- 
 tion of her face by poring over the volume.
 
 74 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 The interieur and rotunde of the conveyance are filled 
 with passengers from Paris, while, clambering to its top 
 behind the cocker, are three or four winegrowers, en 
 route to Dijon. These are discussing in loud voice the 
 turbulent news that has just come from the capital. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! " cries one. " They have sacked 
 the Tuileries and broken all its fine Sevres." 
 
 " Yes, and the citizen-king has fled under the name 
 of William Smith, Englishman ! " guffaws another. 
 
 But an old Royalist, standing by, mutters : " Miseri- 
 corde! France will repent this! Some day, perchance, 
 there will be another guillotine." 
 
 This seems to check the chattering even of the Re- 
 publicans, for the horror of the Revolution of 1848 was 
 the recollection of the Revolution of 1793. The mo- 
 ment "Vive la Republique!" was shouted, the guillo- 
 tine seemed to rise up and cast its shadow over every 
 one. 
 
 As if to change discussion from local subjects, some- 
 one cries out : " This will be great news for Italy ! 
 Lombardy and Venice will soon be on fire ! " 
 
 " Bah ! " says another. " Radetzky will settle the 
 Italians." 
 
 " By the bye," remarks Da Messina, studying the 
 young officer, " your card bears the name of the Aus- 
 trian field marshal ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have the honor to be a nephew of the Gov- 
 ernor of Lombardy," replies his vis-a-vis. " I have just 
 been recalled to join his staff." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I understand the Milan garrison is being 
 re-enforced," replies the tenor. 
 
 " Of that I have no knowledge," says the other, look- 
 ing rather curiously at his interrogator; then, as if 
 anxious to change the topic, tapping a Paris journal 
 in his hand, he observes : " I see the last edition. of the 
 Figaro finds room for one social, every-day piece of 
 news that of a great crime." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes. A certain Adrienne la Baronne de Portalis,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 75 
 
 having been discovered forging the last will and testa- 
 ment of her husband, has taken sudden flight. It is 
 now rumored that she even put arsenic in the old gen- 
 tleman's tea." 
 
 " Basta, another Madame Lafarge!" ejaculates the 
 cavaliere, moving so as to shield his charge as much 
 as possible from observation. 
 
 " Diable! The Figaro states that Monsieur Vidocq 
 is after the poor devil only nineteen and very beau- 
 tiful," remarks the young officer. " I will read you the 
 article." 
 
 " I should like to hear it very much," replies Da Mes- 
 sina, though he says sharply to his protegee: " Estelle, 
 you had better attend to your lesson. Such crimes are 
 not good for the ears of children." 
 
 And Madame la Baronne, burying her head in the 
 book, appears to study Italian diligently, though despite 
 herself her lips tremble, her face grows agonized, and 
 her whole frame quivers as she hears read a very 
 spicy article about her own pretty self, her eccentric- 
 ities, wickedness, and flight. 
 
 " She also had three or four lovers, I see ! " laughs 
 the young man. 
 
 And the black type in which the Italian irregular 
 verbs are printed seems to grow red to the eyes of the 
 fugitive. But to the Austrian officer, as he glances 
 admiringly toward her, she only seems a most delight- 
 ful child, perchance a little overgrown and somewhat 
 ashamed at hearing the record of a very wicked Pari- 
 sian aristocrate. Fortunately, two very beautiful feet 
 and attractive ankles distract his attention from the 
 blushing face, which is buried modestly in her task. 
 
 By this time the diligence is well out of the old town. 
 So, fighting to force her danger out of her mind, the 
 fugitive blesses her padrone's Italian grammar, and, 
 growing calmer, strives to appear interested in the book, 
 not one word of which is yet intelligible to her swim- 
 ming eyes. 
 
 Over a very good road they climb to the upper waters
 
 76 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 of the Seine, its vine-clad hills growing higher and 
 higher, and soon after reach, for dinner, pretty Chatil- 
 lon. Here, the diligence rushing into the narrow court- 
 yard, the stable door opens on one side for the horses, 
 and the hotel door on the other for the passengers. 
 
 At this meal Da Messina, who, for some unknown 
 reason, is now apparently anxious to get on good terms 
 with the young Austrian, the two having spent most 
 of the journey in a conversation devoted to the opera 
 and music, of which the professional finds his compag- 
 non de voyage an enthusiastic admirer, feels himself 
 practically compelled to introduce him to his charge, 
 though he does so as if she were but a child. 
 
 " Captain Radetzky," he says, " this is my little ap- 
 prentice, Estelle. We hope to make the child a great 
 artist in Italy some day." 
 
 Taking the hint, the officer also treats Madame la 
 Baronne as a child. He says, playfully : " If your voice 
 is as beautiful as your face, you will undoubtedly be- 
 come the rage." 
 
 At this compliment, not remarkable for its delicacy, 
 Estelle blushes, but, reflecting that a young man of his 
 high rank, the nephew of the famous Austrian general, 
 probably thinks he is more than polite to a mere appren- 
 tice of the stage, she answers him quite modestly : " I 
 thank you, Monsieur. Under Signore Pergolese I 
 should be a dunce not to succeed." 
 
 But the contrast to the ceremonious way in which 
 she had in her former life been addressed by gentle- 
 men seems to take the appetite away from Mademoiselle 
 Estelle Gabrielle Chartres, for as such Madame la Ba- 
 ronne is beginning to regard herself. She begins to see 
 that the world will have slight consideration for the 
 bound-girl of an Italian padrone. 
 
 In another half an hour they are en route again, and, 
 the night, descending, she finds herself very carefully 
 wrapped up from the cold in rugs, and made as com- 
 fortable as it is possible to be in a jolting old diligence. 
 
 All this evening they rumble on. At change of horses
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 77 
 
 the two gentlemen get out and smoke their cigars to- 
 gether, Estelle sleepily noting that both have eschewed 
 politics, on which the Austrian and the Italian would 
 be sure to disagree, and have become quite friendly over 
 little anecdotes of Milan life, Da Messina telling his 
 companion several stories of " behind the scenes " that, 
 apparently, please Captain Radetzky very well, for he 
 cries out : " We must meet in Milan, my friend. There 
 you must introduce me to the beautiful prima donna, 
 and I'll give la diva a supper. I believe it is rumored 
 that Sophie Olinska is more epris with the handsomest 
 tenor in Italy than with any noble of the court or officer 
 of the army." 
 
 "Sapristi!" laughs the other. " Don't believe every- 
 thing you hear. I'll introduce you to la belle Sophie, 
 and you shall see that I am not the handsomest tenor 
 in Italy." 
 
 They are lighting their cigars near the door of the 
 coupe. Catching their speeches, Estelle suddenly won- 
 ders as to the life of the man who now holds her so 
 firmly in his grasp. " Is he a Don Giovanni off the 
 stage as well as on ? " He has this day at times been 
 very stern to her, at times very kind. She remembers 
 his touch as he lifted her out of the diligence to take a 
 little stroll at the last posthouse, scarce an hour ago; 
 how he had run many errands for her all this day to 
 increase her comfort. She sighs to herself : " These are 
 but proofs of the interest of a padrone in his bound-girl, 
 one who must dance and sing and show her graces upon 
 the stage to put money in his purse." Then, some curi- 
 ous emotion rising in her, she startles herself by mut- 
 tering : " Some day shall I be a feted prima donna, and 
 sing with him like this this Olinska, whose name they 
 link with his ? " 
 
 But a man outside calls : " Cocker, have you brought 
 a Paris Figaro?" And this poor fugitive, who is pro- 
 claimed a criminal in the very newspapers, cowers and 
 shrinks and hides her head. 
 
 A moment later, the horses having been put in for
 
 78 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS, 
 
 the next post, the two men, tossing away their cigars, 
 re-enter the coupe. A stable-boy is passing with a 
 lighted torch. 
 
 " Ach Gott!" murmurs the Austrian. "There are 
 tear stains upon the cheeks of your little Gretchen." 
 
 " Yes, the poor child only left her home two days 
 ago," says Da Messina quietly, and he wraps the robes 
 quite tenderly about the reclining figure. 
 
 Apparently this soothes her. Tired nature brings 
 relief to this hunted one, who, flying from prison, has 
 become the bound-girl of this man. She gives a little 
 sigh, and in forgetfulness is happy. Even the con- 
 demned sleep the night before execution. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE VOICE IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 Opening" her eyes the next morning 1 to her padrone's 
 voice, Estelle discovers that during the night they have 
 passed Dijon, for the bright sun is shining into the 
 diligence, and they are rolling rapidly between stone- 
 fenced vineyards toward Chalons sur Saone, where a 
 little steamboat is waiting to carry them down the 
 waters of that river to commercial Lyons. 
 
 Her awakening is greeted by both gentlemen with a 
 bright " Good morning ! " 
 
 To this her padrone adds in kindly tone : " Petite, I 
 hope you are refreshed," announcing, as if to cheer 
 her, " A good bed in Lyons this evening ! " For two 
 nights' lumbering over French roads, united with the 
 anxieties of a fugitive, have tinged his charge's very 
 youthful face with a pathetic fatigue. 
 
 This adds to its delicate charm as she greets her corn- 
 pa gnons de voyage very prettily, giving Captain Ra- 
 detzky a pleasant, yet demure, bow, and placing her 
 hand confidently in that of her master, who is removing
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 79 
 
 the robes in which he had wrapped his charge the night 
 before. Their eyes meet his in the strength of com- 
 plete government; hers drooping before his glance, as 
 if admitting her subjugation, yet appealing for his pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Noting this, he says, reassuringly : " Courage, Es- 
 telle ; we will soon be on the steamboat." 
 
 " Where we are going to have breakfast," mutters 
 the Austrian officer, who, apparently, has not only a 
 youthful face, but a youthful appetite. 
 
 Consequently, some few minutes after, the diligence 
 drawing up near the river at Chalons, Estelle trips 
 lightly, beside her protector, down to the Saone, which 
 turbulent stream, swollen by big storms in the Vosges 
 Mountains, is now overflowing its banks. 
 
 Standing slightly apart from the crowd, who are 
 struggling over the gangplank to the deck of the little 
 sidewheeled steamer, whose paddle-boxes bear the name 
 " Hirondelle," and whose wheels every now and then 
 churn the muddy water of the current into a yellow 
 foam in order to hold the boat to its moorings, the girl 
 asks a question that since the evening before has been 
 on her mind. She indicates, with a graceful nod of her 
 head, the young Austrian, who already has gone on 
 shipboard, and whispers, a little eagerness in her voice : 
 " Do you, mio padrone, make an exception to your new 
 friend in your general direction that I am to permit no 
 attentions from gentlemen ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " answers Da Messina. " Radetzky 
 is a fine fellow and a man of honor. Don't think me an 
 ogre. Any reasonable liberty that I can give you to 
 make your long journey more agreeable it will be al- 
 ways my pleasure to grant." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! Now I know how to treat Radetz- 
 ky," whispers his protegee. 
 
 A moment after, she finds herself very carefully sup- 
 ported by a strong arm across the slippery gangplank 
 to the deck of the little boat, which is tugging at its 
 moorings. This craft is a long, narrow, iron affair,
 
 8o ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 and is occupied by a frangipanni of big bales of freight, 
 German Jews, barrels of wine, French viticulturalists, 
 and a few tourists, English and American, bound for 
 Switzerland and the French Riviera, for already the 
 threatened political complications in Venice and Milan 
 have turned pleasure-seekers from Italian travel. 
 
 Here Adrienne finds all care of herself taken from 
 her. Her padrone leads her at once to the stewardess, 
 and, pressing a five-franc piece into the woman's hand, 
 tells her to do everything she can for mademoiselle. 
 
 " I shall reserve a place at the breakfast table for you, 
 petite" he says. " Be ready as soon as possible." 
 
 " That I will," she replies, blithely, " for I am as 
 hungry as as Captain Radetzky," favoring the Aus- 
 trian, who is standing- near, with a little smile. 
 
 At this the young man laughs : " Then you will be 
 sure to be with us at the first course." 
 
 Five minutes afterward, Estelle, coming into the 
 salon, joins the gentlemen at the table d'hote. Here, 
 being placed in a chair between Da Messina and the 
 young Austrian, she bites her lips once or twice, as 
 she finds herself still treated like a little girl, and her 
 breakfast ordered without her consultation. However, 
 she enjoys her meal, and occasionally joins in the con- 
 versation of Radetzky and her potentate. A good deal 
 of this is upon the flooded river, for everybody at the 
 table is discussing the height of the stream, some local 
 passengers giving their experiences in the great freshet 
 of 1840, when Lyons suffered a partial inundation. 
 
 " Mille tonnerres! " remarks one. " The Saone is the 
 very deuce of a stream to drown, not only lands, but 
 peasants. God help anyone it catches unawares ! " 
 
 The meal being over, Carlo takes Estelle out on the 
 deck to look at the rushing river. They are in the 
 middle of the stream ; the current is a very rapid one. 
 The usually green waters of the Saone are muddy, and 
 the boat at times is violently swayed by the turbulent 
 current, which tells of a great rainfall and melting 
 snows in the Vosges Mountains.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 8 1 
 
 But after a moment Adrienne gets accustomed to the 
 rush of the waters, and listens quite interestedly to a 
 musical discussion between her guardian and the Aus- 
 trian officer. They are talking of the triumphs of Jenny 
 Lind, who is now the reigning European prima donna, 
 and Da Messina makes his protegee happy by saying: 
 " Ah, yes, the Swedish nightingale ! Birdlike voices 
 are now the rage. My apprentice here, I have already 
 noticed, has a linnet voice. Perhaps some day she will 
 sing in ' La Sonnambula ' and ' Puritani.' " 
 
 At this, wonder flames in his apprentice's expressive 
 face. She stammers : " What ! If" 
 
 " Why not ? You sang your scales with an extremely 
 pure tone; though I hardly think you will have dra- 
 matic force enough for ' Norma ' or ' Lucretia Borgia.' " 
 
 To this Adrienne is too astounded to make reply. 
 
 But Radetzky laughs : " Well, my little maid, you 
 will have an open field in a year or two, as it is rumored 
 that the Swedish divtt, who is now enchanting London, 
 will soon go to far-away America in search of Yankee 
 dollars." 
 
 But the hoarse cries of the captain on the paddle- 
 box again call their attention to their voyage down the 
 river. 
 
 Adrienne notes that now, on her right hand and far- 
 ther to the south, the Lyonnais hills are coming into 
 view, though the low meadows are flooded on either 
 bank of the Saone, whose turbulent current adds to the 
 speed of their boat descending the river. Moving rapid- 
 ly, they approach Trevoux, but here navigation, which 
 is difficult in ordinary stages of the water, becomes 
 more intricate, and is rendered even dangerous by a 
 number of boats drawn by horses that block up the 
 channel near a large stone quarry on the right bank. 
 
 The captain, on the paddle-box, is hallooing excited 
 French commands to the helmsman, for they seem about 
 to run down one or two of these barges. 
 
 The young Austrian, saying lightly, " I'll see the 
 affair," runs forward. In the immediate bow of the
 
 82 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 boat are a lot of freight-boxes and bales, piled so high 
 that they overhang the low bulwarks. Upon these Ra- 
 detzky climbs rapidly. 
 
 " Sacre bleu! Get off of there! " interjects the cap- 
 tain, between some hoarse commands to the pilot. 
 
 But Radetzky has no time to heed his warning be- 
 fore they come heavily in contact with one of the barges, 
 and the shock sends the young man overboard. 
 
 At this there is a scream from the female passengers 
 and a howl from the men. In their excitement they 
 throw toward him a heavy mahogany chair, which dis- 
 appears in an eddy, and a cane settee, with cast-iron 
 kgs, that immediately sinks. 
 
 " Mille diables! " shrieks the French captain. " Un- 
 less he can swim like a duck, the Emperor of Austria 
 has lost a soldier ! " 
 
 His words seem true, for, though fortunately carried 
 away from the paddle-wheels by a rapid swirl of the 
 current, the young man is left far behind the rapidly 
 moving steamboat, that has disengaged itself from the 
 slightly damaged barge, and is now paddling down- 
 stream. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! Save him ! " cries Adrienne, excitedly. 
 
 "Diavolo!" mutters the Italian. "He will surely, 
 drown. He is as a baby in the water." 
 
 The girl's hurried glance at the face of her padrone 
 catches a curious exultation in it. Perchance he is 
 thinking : " Here's one less sword pointed at the breast 
 of Italy." 
 
 But, half a second after, pity comes into Da Mes- 
 sina's eyes as he watches the unavailing but gallant 
 struggles of the young Austrian, who, though he has 
 strength and courage, has no skill in the water; and 
 it would take a strong swimmer to carry himself suc- 
 cessfully in the flooded Saone. 
 
 The next minute Estelle falters : " Oh, mercy ! You 
 you are going For Da Messina is tossing off 
 
 his coat and hastily removing his boots. 
 
 Then her scream rings out clear and shrill over the
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 83 
 
 noise of clanging engines, as this man, whose fetters 
 she wears, dives from the stern of the boat and disap- 
 pears for a moment in the swirling waters. 
 
 " Diable ! The Italian idiot ! " shrieks the captain. 
 " There are now two fools to drown ! " 
 
 To the anxious eyes of the girl, standing trembling 
 almost like a child, this seems to be the case, though 
 to an expert, the Italian would seem a veritable merman, 
 as he buffets the strong current, and, with the confi- 
 dent stroke of an exceedingly powerful swimmer, fights 
 his way toward the struggling Austrian. 
 
 But the engines are still revolving. The boat rapidly 
 turns a sharp bend in the river, and the struggling mer- 
 man is seen no more. Suddenly Adrienne starts to her 
 affrighted eyes everything grows dark. This man her 
 tyrant, yet her protector is no more by her side; she 
 is alone ! She has even lost her former identity, which 
 she can not regain without surrendering herself to the 
 pursuing police as a criminal, self-condemned by an 
 attempted escape. Her money is in this man's posses- 
 sion. In case of his death, even that would go to his 
 relatives. She is penniless, as well as helpless. 
 
 But now she recollects the care this man had given 
 her; that his touch had been tender as he wrapped 
 her up from the cold; that he had sat awake think- 
 ing for her safety, while she had slept ; that, though 
 he has demanded implicit obedience, he has given, if 
 not tenderness, at least protection. So his bound-girl, 
 standing on the deck of the swaying boat, listening to 
 the shouts of the French sailors, begins to weep for 
 the Italian padrone who had forced her to give herself 
 into his dominion. 
 
 "For whom are you blubbering?" asks a woman 
 standing near her. " For the young Austrian officer, or 
 the Italian ? " 
 
 " For for the Italian, my padrone, who who is 
 drowned," sighs the disconsolate girl, wiping her 
 dimmed eyes with a handkerchief she has carelessly
 
 84 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 taken from the pocket of this dress unused since con- 
 vent days. 
 
 " Ah ! Then don't go to Italy, for they will sell your 
 contract, and that means you, little one. I know about 
 such things. I have been wardrobe woman of a theater 
 in Naples. So you take my ad'rice," remarks her 
 counselor, in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 Then, as Adrienne looks despairingly out over the 
 rushing waters, her adviser suddenly gives a start, and 
 mutters : " This bound-girl must have seen better 
 times Mademoiselle is an aristocrat. Sacre, there's a 
 coronet upon that nice lace handkerchief of hers ! " 
 And the envy of the mob against blue blood comes 
 into the heart of the woman of the people. 
 
 But now the shouts from the captain on the paddle- 
 box become joyous. With Gallic seamanship he has 
 at last thought of reversing the engines, and the boat 
 is now stationary on the flood. Then Adrienne gives 
 a little fluttering cry. Gaining upon it at every stroke, 
 Da Messina comes into sight, swimming stoutly, while 
 Radetzky, still cool and collected, rests his left hand 
 upon the shoulder of his preserver, who is now rapidly 
 (approaching the boat. 
 
 With excited, happy eyes, the girl flies to the gang- 
 way. As the young Austrian is pulled upon deck, the 
 first hand extended to him is the beautiful one of Adri- 
 enne. She says : " Oh, I am so glad ! " But when the 
 Italian, with stout hand, pulls himself on board, look- 
 ing at him with streaming eyes, she mutters : " Oh, if 
 you had died ! " 
 
 " Diavolo, little one! I thought of that, and would 
 not have jumped overboard, only 1 knew that I would 
 live. That plunge was a mere bagatelle to one who, as 
 a boy, lived half in the water, by the shore of the 
 Bay of Naples, and, as a young man, played in the 
 Mediterranean, day after day, with the strong swim- 
 mers of the Island of Malta. And so you feared for 
 me ? " His dark eyes search her mobile face. 
 
 " Oh, so much ! I "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 85 
 
 " Thank you, child. But, with your permission, I 
 will go to the cabin with my Austrian friend. The 
 water is cold, and a glass of brandy will do me no 
 harm." 
 
 Patting his protegee's brown locks with dripping 
 hand, Carlo steps after the man he has saved, and, two 
 or three minutes after, puts his head, which he is rub- 
 bing with a towel, out of the cabin window, and laughs : 
 " Don't fear, petite, though I am going to disappear 
 again. Captain Radetzky and I are for the cook's gal- 
 ley to dry our clothes." 
 
 And, waiting for him, Adrienne, who now feels 
 more than ever what his loss would be to her, mut- 
 ters : " Holy Virgin ! // I had been left alone ! This 
 proves that I am indeed his property." 
 
 Even as she says this, malicious words come to her 
 that give her an awful shock. 
 
 " Venire bleu! You are the first girl I ever saw 
 happy at getting her padrone back ! But you are such 
 a pretty tit-bit ! Oh ah ! Doubtless he gives you 
 more kisses than blows." 
 
 As these words are chuckled into her ear, Adrienne 
 shudders, her face grows deathly pale, and she stag- 
 gers from the property woman of the Naples theater. 
 " If if I thought that," she gasps, to herself, " I'd 
 let them take me back to Paris, or jump into this 
 river. But she's a bad woman, and he he is " 
 
 She trembles and stammers at the thought of meet- 
 ing her padrone; the suggestion has been an awful 
 one to her. 
 
 But as her dictator shortly after strolls to her, in 
 smoking clothes that suggest a very hasty drying, her 
 eyes, catching his glance, grow relieved. 
 
 With him comes the young officer, who, gazing upon 
 his preserver, warmly remarks : " You saved my life, 
 even though I am an Austrian. Our countries may 
 fight, but we at least shall be friends." 
 
 He extends an eager hand, which is clasped by the 
 Italian. So the three stand together, as the boat, com-
 
 86 <fci>RIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 ing rapidly down the Saone, passes the Ile-Barbe, and, 
 darting under numerous bridges, lands them at the 
 Quai de Tilsit. 
 
 As Da Messina holds out his hand to help his ward 
 ashore, he glances sharply at her face, and whispers : 
 " You have something to tell me ? " 
 
 " No, I " 
 
 " Oh, don't try to deny it." His tone is imperative. 
 " As I turned my head away I saw that woman whis- 
 per to you. You must tell me her words." 
 
 Gazing at him, his bound-girl's face becomes red as 
 the setting sun. 
 
 Da Messina gives a hasty glance at the ex-wardrobe 
 mistress of the Naples theater, who is stepping over 
 the gangplank, and, leading Estelle a little aside where 
 two big piles of bales and barrels upon the quay give 
 them privacy, and the rumble of the passing vehicles 
 of busy Lyons drowns their voices, he whispers : " You 
 must tell me." 
 
 " I please don't ask me ! " 
 
 " Quick ! Seconds are important." 
 
 " You think it is vital ? " asks his charge, gazing at 
 him astonished. 
 
 " In our position everything, anything, may be vital 
 to you and me. Quick tell me ! " The intensity of his 
 manner forces her confidence. 
 
 Her face grows very pale, then red as fire. But, 
 looking him straight in the eyes, as if to discern how 
 the suggestion affects him, under her breath, falter- 
 ingly, yet resolutely, Estelle tells him the awful sug- 
 gestion of the ex-wardrobe mistress of the Naples 
 theater. 
 
 His very manner of receiving it gives her relief. 
 
 " Diavolo! " he laughs, as she finishes. " I thought 
 the woman some accursed Austrian agent, trying to 
 pump you about me. Forget that miserable' s words. 
 In truth, my knowledge of this padrone business has 
 so far been that of an onlooker. You are the first who 
 has ever come under my rule. Pergolese makes money
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 87 
 
 by his own voice not by the voices of others," he adds, 
 proudly. 
 
 " I I am your first bound-girl? " stammers Estelle, 
 a strange contentment in her voice. 
 
 Perchance catching this, he jeers lightly: "More 
 kisses than blows, the woman said ! " then adds, some- 
 what sadly : " To you, I suppose I must always be a 
 taskmaster. You had better hate me for severity than 
 think too well of me for being kind." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no ! Don't say that," she dissents, in 
 broken voice. 
 
 As she moves impulsively, he catches the graceful 
 lines of her figure, and thinks what her developing 
 beauty will become. 
 
 " Cospetto, don't contradict me, child ! " he mutters, 
 as if restraining himself. His mien grows command- 
 ing, his voice stern, as he crushes her with : " Look 
 upon me always as your tyrant ! " Then his tone 
 changes ; he says, lightly : " But come along, petite. 
 Radetzky is waiting to bid us adieu." 
 
 A moment after, upon the open quay, they join the 
 young officer, who fervidly embraces his preserver, say- 
 ing, eagerly : " I shall not leave by diligence till Mon- 
 day morning. Why don't you come to the same hotel 
 with me, the De L'Europe ? " 
 
 " With Estelle under my wing, I prefer quieter and 
 cheaper quarters. Dine with me to-morrow at the Ta- 
 rascon," replies the cavaliere. 
 
 " Certainly. Only to-night you must sup with me. 
 Mein Gott, if it hadn't been for your stout arm, I would 
 this evening have fed fishes instead of you, my friend ! " 
 
 " With all my heart," replies Da Messina, who, to 
 Adrienne, seems anxious to increase his intimacy with 
 the Austrian. " In addition, suppose you, and my 
 charge and I, if it is pleasant, take to-morrow after- 
 noon a Sunday jaunt, and see the sights at the Obser- 
 vatory ? " 
 
 " Agreed ! " cries the Viennese. " And thanks, also, 
 to you, my little friend," he adds, "for your welcoming
 
 88 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 hand and anxious eyes when I was pulled on board 
 again." 
 
 He raises his hat to Estelle, who returns his salute 
 very prettily, as her governor calls a carriage, and or- 
 ders : " Hotel Tarascon, quick ! " 
 
 A second later, Madame la Baronne finds herself 
 placed in the vehicle, Da Messina quickly taking a seat 
 beside her. As they drive off, she can not help blush- 
 ing at the intimacy her station gives him. Her pa- 
 drone's occupying a closed carriage en tete-cL-tete with 
 her seems a matter of course both to him and to the 
 Austrian. 
 
 Suddenly he startles her with : " Were you wiping 
 your eyes on the steamboat with that handkerchief, with 
 the tell-tale coronet upon it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I forgot ! It it must have been in this pocket 
 for years," stammers his protegee. In my agitation for 
 you, 1 I thought you were drowned. Pardon me ! " 
 
 " And you were sorry, pauvrette, that I " Carlo 
 
 checks himself shortly, then mutters: " Maladetto! If 
 anyone noticed it, this may be very unfortunate." 
 
 He knits his brows in concentrated thought till they 
 are in the courtyard of the old-fashioned Hotel Taras- 
 con, where the young widow is soon to be thoroughly 
 appalled at the easy familiarity of padrone to ap- 
 prentice. 
 
 The Hotel Tarascon is a little hostelry in the heart 
 of the business portion of Lyons, near the Rue Cen- 
 trale. It is kept by a certain Signora Annina, who had 
 once been a prima danseuse in half the capitals of Eu- 
 rope, and now, having grown obese, has taken for her 
 helpmate a well-known Italian chef, Brisco by name. 
 This artist's cooking being good, the place is well fre- 
 quented by the Italian colony of Lyons. 
 
 The fat face of their hostess welcomes them at the 
 entrance. She cries, " Carlo, you boy, I expected you ! " 
 and hands him a letter ; then goes effusively on : " The 
 sight of you makes me young again. I can remember 
 the last time I danced at La Scala." And commands
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 89 
 
 one or two white aproned attendants : " The best rooms 
 in the house for the best voice in Italy ! " But, gazing a 
 little farther into the carriage, she ejaculates: "Oho! 
 This is the apprentice you wrote about ! " 
 
 " Of course ! " replies the tenor, dexterously avoid- 
 ing a maternal kiss from the fat, old lady. " Estelle, 
 Signora Brisco will take good care of you," deftly 
 gaining his hostess's good offices for his charge by 
 whispering : " I shall have to consult you in regard 
 to her, Annina." 
 
 " Certo!" answers the ex-ballerina. "Come along, 
 my child, with the staid old landlady, who once had 
 nobles at her feet." 
 
 As she speaks, they ascend a flight of broad, stone 
 steps, and Estelle is led into the suite that has been 
 assigned to her padrone. It consists of a big parlor 
 and three other rooms. The brick floor of the first is 
 made comfortable by rugs, and its large windows 
 are ornamented by draperies. A fire has been hastily 
 kindled in the great open fireplace. One diagonal 
 corner of it opens into the private apartment of her 
 maestro. 
 
 A startled timidity flies through her as the landlady 
 points to a door on the opposite side of the parlor, and 
 announces : " There is your little chamber, petite. She 
 will be quite under your eye, cavaliere," babbles the 
 woman. " No running out, except she passes your 
 door." 
 
 But, Da Messina glancing over the letter in his hand, 
 knits his brow, and says, shortly : " I have important 
 business, so I will leave Estelle in your charge, Signora 
 Brisco. See that she has everything she wants, and a 
 nice little dinner." 
 
 Drawing his apprentice aside, he whispers : " This 
 letter tells me I shall have to stay at least three days 
 in Lyons." 
 
 Then, turning to his hostess, who has been occu- 
 pied in stirring up the fire and opening a piano, which 
 stands in a corner of the room, he suggests : " This
 
 90 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 child's wardrobe is very defective. Replenish her cos- 
 tumes. Bring the bills to me. This must be done 
 immediately." 
 
 " Ghieu ! " remarks the woman. " But I can get 
 her simple frocks in quick order. I have two sewing- 
 girls in the house." 
 
 " See that her outfit is complete," says Da Messina, 
 sharply. " Only make her wardrobe plain, youthful, 
 and girlish." 
 
 " Won't I ? With her bright face, all I have to do is 
 to take those hideous bags from around her ankles and 
 she will be an infant ! " cries La Brisco, with a grin. 
 " But en avant, petite." 
 
 With this she shows the fugitive into a cozy little 
 bedroom, which contains a pretty, white cot, where, an 
 hour after, Madame la Baronne finds a pleasant little 
 dinner served by her hostess in person, who probably 
 has had some further instructions from Da Messina. 
 
 " I've brought a dressmaker with me, so after din- 
 ner we will get to work," she says. " To-morrow 
 morning you breakfast with your padrone." 
 
 Some few hours after this, night has come upon 
 Lyons. Finding herself very tired, the white cot looks 
 inviting to Estelle. She timidly, hesitatingly, and 
 slowly undresses and steps toward the bed. 
 
 Suddenly, some new emotion flying through her, she 
 runs hastily to her bedroom door to lock it. 
 
 But discovering no key, her face grows agitated. 
 She falters : " I am to be here in this man's apart- 
 ments every night, under his eye under his hand ! 
 Verily my bondage throws down the barriers of society 
 betwixt me and he who holds me." 
 
 Then to her acute ears comes the sound of the big 
 door opening from the corridor upon their parlor. She 
 recognizes her master's step. 
 
 A bashful terror comes upon her. She begins to 
 tremble. Blushes fly in waves over her anxious face. 
 She stands, shrinking, draped in her white robe de nuit, 
 whose sheer muslin outlines the graces of her fair t
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. $1 
 
 young form. Were it not for the throbbing of her 
 heart, upheaving the laces on her snowy bosom, she 
 would be like a statue of affrighted modesty. Suddenly 
 there is the sound of a turning key and clicking bolt. 
 She knows she is locked in now with this man whom 
 she has rashly given such power over her. 
 
 His step is coming toward her door! She looks 
 about as if to fly, but knows she has no place of 
 refuge. 
 
 But, doing this, she starts again. Her senses seem 
 confused ; entrancing strains float all about her. A 
 noble voice breaks in upon her, passionate, romantic, 
 dominant. She murmurs, " Dio, how beautiful ! " and, 
 forgetting even the terror of modesty, stands listening, 
 for it is the first time she has heard the voice of her 
 maestro uplifted in glorious melody. Accompanying 
 himself upon the piano, he is singing Aubers song 
 of Masaniello, those impassioned strains in which the 
 Naples fisherman cried out to his fellows of the sea 
 beach and market place to rise against their tyrants. 
 
 Listening, she knows that it is the voice not only 
 of a patriot, but of a conspirator that puts wild pas- 
 sion and almost savage ferocity, yet withal noble 
 courage into the grand music that thrills her heart. 
 Suddenly it dies away. A moment later she hears 
 hoarsely muttered : " Thank God, at last it is time to 
 strike ! " And to her, in great sighs, comes : " My 
 brother, whom the Austrians killed at Padua, because 
 he sung his student's song of liberty, if you were but 
 here to strike with me ! Marco ! My Marco ! " 
 
 And this tyrant she fears staggers into his own 
 room, sobbing as if his heart would break. 
 
 " Fool that I was to think that this man, with great 
 things upon his mind, would sully his patriot hands 
 by doing an ignoble act ! " she jeers. Then, a strange, 
 pathetic archness coming in her voice, she murmurs : 
 " He thinks not enough of me to even say good night." 
 
 So, with a little plaintive pout, but with her mind 
 relieved, Estelle steps into her little cot, and, nestling
 
 92 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 down in its pillows, places her round, white arms wear- 
 ily over her brown tresses, and so goes to sleep, won- 
 dering in a dreamy way whether the world is turned 
 upside down. At all events, she knows she is ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " WE MUST STRIKE, BEFORE THE FLOWERS BLOOM ! " 
 
 About eleven o'clock next morning, as Da Messina 
 is sitting before his breakfast table in their parlor, his 
 charge comes tripping in from her chamber, and, giving 
 him a formal courtesy, murmurs : " Good morning, mio 
 padrone." 
 
 Madame la Baronne is looking very pretty and very 
 bashful, perchance because she feels decidedly en fa- 
 mille with this handsome gentleman, who sits in a 
 jaunty, well-braided smoking jacket, and that evidence 
 of domestic privacy, a comfortable pair of slippers. In 
 addition, she is slightly ill at ease in the new frock which 
 La Brisco has had made for her overnight. It is a 
 simple, brown costume, quite graceful and very girlish ; 
 for, with a professional love of freedom for the lower 
 limbs, the signora has had its skirt cut an inch or two 
 shorter than the one in which Adrienne had traveled, 
 and also removed from the young lady's ankles what 
 the ex-ballerina calls the two hideous bags. There- 
 fore Madame la Baronne's graces are more en evidence 
 to her master, her slippered feet and beautifully mould- 
 ed ankles being in the full display of girlhood. 
 
 " You are rather late, and apparently not very hun- 
 gry, petite," remarks the cavaliere, as he acknowledges 
 her salute. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! But I had been out at mass with the 
 signora. You don't object to that, do you?" 
 
 " To your religion? Not at all. Would that I were 
 a better churchman ! But sit down," he says, cordially. 
 " It is our first breakfast en tete-a-tete"
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 93 
 
 " Cospetto! " interjects their landlady, who has .come 
 in with the meal in person. " If Estejle were a few 
 years older, one might think it a honeymoon affair ! " 
 And she goes chuckling out, leaving embarrassment be- 
 hind her. 
 
 The padrone has rather a quizzical smile on his face ; 
 the young widow is bending a very blushing head over 
 her plate. 
 
 " Permit me to offer you some omelet," says the gen- 
 tleman, suavely. 
 
 " Yes, thank you," murmurs his pupil, her face a 
 little turned from his. 
 
 "And a roll?" 
 
 " Whatever you think best. You've selected my re- 
 pasts very nicely for me ever since I came under your 
 rule," she answers, giving him a shy, yet grateful, 
 glance, adding, hurriedly : " Let me do something for 
 you." 
 
 " I don't see anything," he laughs, running his eyes 
 over the breakfast table. " The meal seems to be a 
 good one." 
 
 " I I could pour out your coffee for you," she sug- 
 gests, impulsively. " I I always did it for my hus- 
 band," and pauses astounded at the effect upon her 
 maestro. 
 
 A frown ripples his face, then he looks coldly at her, 
 and commands, sternly : "Have I not forbidden you to 
 speak of that old man? Your past is dead." 
 
 " You you make it a blank," she pouts. 
 
 " It must be, to save you." 
 
 He passes over to her the Journal de Lyons, in which 
 Estelle sees her old name the name she is trying to 
 forget in big letters, with some headlines beneath it 
 that make her shudder. 
 
 " I I see. You are right," she assents. 
 
 " You observe," he returns, " they haven't guessed so 
 very far from us. A rumor says the criminal has fled 
 with one of her lovers en route to Italy."
 
 94 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 " O-o-oh ! " With a half sob of embarrassment, his 
 pupil hides her head in her hands. 
 
 " But fortunately they are not quite sure of the ex- 
 act route," he continues, philosophically. " They have 
 traced the fair fugitive as far as Montereau, but at that 
 point are in doubt. You see that evening a lady and 
 gentleman on horseback left that town, going toward 
 Montargis. But that clew will be worked out very 
 shortly. This paper hints that the officers will await 
 Madame la Baronne at Marseilles," 
 
 " Then then I am lost ! " 
 
 " Not at all, if you are sufficiently circumspect. I am 
 sorry I spoiled your breakfast," adds Da Messina, who 
 apparently has a very good appetite. Then he con- 
 tinues, in cautious voice : " Only absolute, untiring vig- 
 ilance will get you out of France. To-morrow evening 
 I have made arrangements for you to sign your inden- 
 ture to me. It may be necessary to show this document 
 at any time." 
 
 " You don't think there is any immediate danger ? " 
 she queries, uneasily. 
 
 " Not if you are very careful." 
 
 Encouraged by these words, Estelle, whose face has 
 grown pale, now contrives to make a better ending to 
 the meal than her beginning. 
 
 " In order to have everything en regie, you must be, 
 in word and deed, my apprentice," observes Da Mes- 
 sina. " The people in this hotel must hear you prac- 
 ticing your music under my direction. The harsh 
 words of a stern master, coming to the curious ears 
 of passers-by in yonder corridor, perchance at times, 
 punctuated by a little sob from careless pupil, will re- 
 move every doubt that thy padrone is berating his ap- 
 prentice. To-morrow morning we begin work ! " Then 
 he adds, in more kindly tone, to Estelle, who has a 
 shade of anxiety upon her delicate face : " Now, petite, 
 you have just time to get ready for our little trip across 
 the Saone. You remember I made the appointment 
 yesterday with our Austrian friend." His voice hesi-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 95 
 
 tates a little on the last word. " You would like 
 to go?" 
 
 " Oh, very much ! " 
 
 " Then run away, and get On your things. Wrap 
 up well, for the day is brisk, though the sun is bright." 
 
 And she tripping to her chamber, he gazes after her, 
 and murmurs : " I am afraid I frightened my pro- 
 tegee; " then mutters, shortly, " but it is best we are 
 only master and apprentice," and departs to make his 
 own toilet. 
 
 A few minutes afterward, the young Austrian com- 
 ing into their apartment, Da Messina greets him cor- 
 dially ; then calls out : " Are you ready for our little 
 excursion, Estelle ? " 
 
 And his ward entering, a short, brown, childish wrap 
 about her dainty figure, and a dark hat upon the bands 
 of her wavy hair, Captain Radetzky opens his eyes at 
 the pretty sight, and observes : " Mademoiselle is re- 
 covered from the fatigues of the journey, I see ! " 
 
 " As you have from your ducking, I hope, Monsieur 
 le Capitaine," she answers brightly, as she returns his 
 bow with a demure little courtesy. 
 
 Five minutes after, they make their way through two 
 or three rather narrow and dirty unsidewalked streets, 
 and come to the Saone, which, though falling, is still 
 in flood. 
 
 Here, crossing the Pont du Change, they arrive at 
 that strange, little street, lined with dirty shops con- 
 taining religious pictures, relics, curios, and effigies in 
 wax and tallow, which leads up to the heights of 
 Fourvieres. They have all been walking together, Es- 
 telle chatting quite blithely with the Austrian; but 
 here, the way being contracted, Da Messina says: 
 " Run ahead of us, child." 
 
 At her guardian's gesture, his charge trips up the 
 steep ascent before the gentlemen, making a very girl- 
 ish, yet alluring, picture. 
 
 The Austrian's eyes follow her closely. He remarks 
 admiringly : " You have quite a prize in your appren-
 
 96 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 tice, my dear Pergolese. Did you notice her rather ma- 
 ture, yet bitter, remark about the position of a widow 
 in France? Your protegee, if she has as fine a voice as 
 she has mind, will make a great success." 
 
 " Humph yes ! Still, she is a great responsibility," 
 answers Da Messina, noting, with clouded brow, that 
 some admiring tourists and a man, in the uniform of 
 one of the Lyons steamboats, have placed their eyes 
 upon his ward, whose diffidence under public comment 
 seems to make her attractive to onlookers. 
 
 " Well, she appears as modest as she is pretty. If 
 she has talent, her indenture papers should be worth 
 quite a sum to you," remarks Radetzky. 
 
 " Diavolo! I think she has both voice and ability," 
 returns the cavaliere, decidedly. 
 
 " The little maiden seemed to have a good heart and 
 plenty of sympathy in her soul when she greeted us 
 as we escaped drowning. You must do great things 
 for her, Pergolese, and Mein Himmel! I will help 
 you do it ! " 
 
 With this he makes a proposition to his friend which 
 causes Da Messina to open his eyes ; but, catching sight 
 of the beautiful creature, who, having reached the top 
 of the ascent, is now outlined against the blue sky, he 
 answers : " Thank you for wishing to do so much for 
 her, but I can not consent. I value her too highly." 
 
 The last of these words drift to Estelle, as she stands 
 upon the hill of Fourvieres. A tinge of embarrassment 
 ripples her mobile features, for she guesses they refer 
 to her. Suddenly she starts, and forgets all save the 
 magnificent scene before her. 
 
 At her feet is Lyons, the main portion of the city me- 
 dieval in its crowded houses and narrow streets till it 
 reaches the green lime trees of the Place Bellecour. The 
 sun is shining on the two rivers the flashing Saone 
 and the more stately Rhone which once bounded the 
 town, but now intersect it. Beyond these is a great 
 valley, drifting away, in one immense level plateau, 
 toward the east, to become, in the far distance, an
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 97 
 
 indistinct haze. But, above this seeming horizon, rise, 
 peak after peak, and rampart after rampart, the far- 
 away Alps, while, like a great white cloud of heaven, 
 above them all, towers, grand and magnificent, the 
 best-known mountain upon this earth. 
 
 " What is it ? " she says, shading her eyes, for the 
 sun, gleaming upon it, makes it almost dazzling. 
 
 " Mont Blanc, petite," answers her guardian, who 
 now stands beside her. 
 
 '' Beyond that snow-line," cries the Austrian, " is 
 Milan, where, I hope, il Cavaliere da Messina and I 
 will have many a pleasant evening together. You re- 
 member, my dear Pergolese, you promised me a pre- 
 sentation to the reigning prima donna. Some evening 
 we will arrange a petit souper, graced by la belle 
 Olinska, eh, mon ami? " 
 
 Starting at the name, Estelle, gazing at her padrone, 
 notes that he makes no immediate reply. Then, ap- 
 parently controlling himself, the Italian says slowly: 
 " We shall always be good friends. You, I presume, 
 Captain Radetzky, go to Italy by Switzerland ? " 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow ! Come with me ! " cries the young 
 officer, earnestly. " It is the nearest way," he urges. 
 
 " But I dread winter's snows for this young girl," 
 answers the tenor. " Besides, I may sing a night or two 
 in Marseilles. If so, it will be the first time I have ever 
 trod the French stage." 
 
 " Will you ? " cries Estelle, so eagerly that both the 
 gentlemen laugh a little, and the Austrian remarks : " I 
 don't wonder you are anxious to hear Pergolese," add- 
 ing : " I always admire the frankness of the very 
 young." 
 
 Then they stroll into the chapel, and look at the relics 
 of saints and curious pictures of shipwrecked sailors, 
 with votive offerings for their salvation. Tiring of this, 
 they wander about the Roman ruins ; but, the afternoon 
 growing late, they soon walk down the little narrow 
 street again, and take a different bridge to cross the 
 Saone.
 
 98 ACHIEVE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 While going down the stone steps that lead to it, 
 Estelle trips lightly ahead of the two gentlemen, and 
 Da Messina sees the man, dressed as the steamboat 
 attache, watching her furtively. Twice before, this day, 
 he has noticed this fellow's eyes upon his ward, once 
 going up the hill, a second time in the Chapel of Notre 
 Dame at the summit. 
 
 For an instant his brows contract in nervous thought ; 
 then he suddenly cries, loudly and savagely : " Estelle, 
 
 don't run so far ahead of us ! Have a care, or I'll " 
 
 He cuts off his speech with threatening gesture. 
 
 This corning to her ears in a harsher tone than he 
 had ever before used to her, the warned one's eyes flash 
 with indignant fire ; then her lips quiver, and she hangs 
 her head. 
 
 " Mein Gott! Don't speak so sharply to the child," 
 whispers the Austrian, adding these curious words : " I 
 double my offer, Da Messina ! " 
 
 " It is again refused ! " returns the other, but con- 
 tinues, apologetically : " You don't understand my rea- 
 son for my apparent sternness." 
 
 " Herr Gott Himmel! There can be no reason for 
 it," mutters the young officer. " See ! Tears are in her 
 beautiful eyes. You don't understand your responsi- 
 bilities, my friend, with that tender heart." 
 
 " Don't I ? " says the other, his face growing curious- 
 ly troubled, as the two walk on together, apparently not 
 on as good terms as they had been before. 
 
 As for Estelle, she seems for a moment crushed. 
 
 At the Tarascon, Da Messina says : "Just wait down- 
 stairs, Radetzky, for a few minutes, until I have dinner 
 properly ordered. Besides, I want to make an apology 
 to mademoiselle." 
 
 " She deserves one ! " returns the Austrian, sternly. 
 
 But, scarce heeding him, Carlo follows Estelle, and 
 the padrone and his bound-girl being together in his 
 parlor, he suddenly turns her to him and whispers: 
 " Forget my words."
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. . 99 
 
 " How can I ? Chided in public threatened before 
 him ! " 
 
 " My words were to give you safety. You noticed 
 that man dressed as a steamboat official ? " 
 
 " Yes." Her face, that was indignant, grows anx- 
 ious. 
 
 " Three times I saw him watching you with a mou- 
 chard's eye. I fear the fellow suspects you. Ba<sta! but 
 he will hardly imagine that the lover of Madame la 
 Baronne would treat her as an Italian padrone does his 
 bound-girl." 
 
 " Oh, you did it for my sake ? I I forgive you," 
 replies the girl, extending an eager hand. To her as- 
 tonishment, he seizes her white fingers and kisses them 
 tenderly. 
 
 With a little bashful cry, she runs into her chamber, 
 and half an hour afterward comes out, a strange look 
 of happiness upon her face. 
 
 " We are en fete this evening. We are going to give 
 our friend a good-by ! " cries her guardian, apparently 
 happy himself. 
 
 Gazing about, Estelle sees a table decked with flowers 
 and sparkling crystal and the service of an elaborate 
 dinner. Radetzky is already in the room, and they 
 make a merry triangular meal of it. 
 
 Estelle, seated with a gentleman on either hand, for- 
 gets, in listening to their conversation, her sad posi- 
 tion. Perchance made more vivacious by sparkling 
 champagne, her fair face this night has a new look upon 
 it, one scarce definable, yet potent enough to make the 
 young Austrian observe : " You seem in great spirits 
 this evening, Mademoiselle; and I also perceive your 
 guardian has made his peace with you." 
 
 " Oh, I have forgiven him ! " she murmurs, and rath- 
 er astonishes Radetzky by adding archly : " I knew mio 
 padrone didn't mean to be very cross. I am going to 
 be Pergolese's favorite pupil, am not I, maestro? " 
 
 " Corpo di San Marco ! That is easy ! " laughs Da
 
 100 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Messina. " I shall have but one." The emphasis on 
 the " one " makes his bound-girl's eyes sparkle. 
 
 "Can't you sing for. us," suggests the Austrian to 
 her, as they move from the table, " so that I can note 
 the improvement in your voice when I hear you again 
 in Italy ? You are going to let me see Mademoiselle in 
 Milan, are you not, Carlo ? " he inquires of her master. 
 
 " Of course, Franz ! I do not intend to make Estelle 
 a novice in the temple of art." To this he adds : " Won't 
 you sing for us, little one? Do not be frightened. It 
 will not be to the criticism of tfie scribes or the public, 
 but only of friends you'll let me say that, won't you ? " 
 
 " I I haven't been practicing much. You know 
 that!" 
 
 " Ah ! You like to make a successful first appear- 
 ance," he laughs. " Let me encourage you. I will sing 
 first ! Corpo di Baccho, I am not afraid ! " 
 
 " Mein Gott! Will you, in private? " cries the Aus- 
 trian, eagerly. 
 
 " Peste, I always sing better when I am not paid for 
 it," says the cavaliere. And seating himself at the 
 piano, with the dash, certainty, and elan of a great artist 
 who has nearly everything in current music at his 
 tongue's end, he sings for them half a dozen morceaux, 
 ranging from " La Bella del Re " of " La Favorita " to 
 a little love song of Schubert, tender as a maiden's 
 heart. These are all different, and of wonderful va- 
 riety, but, as he delivers them, are all not only master- 
 pieces of technique, but the very outpouring of an ar- 
 dent soul, whose best expression is through song. 
 
 For a few moments there is a silence more compli- 
 mentary than applause; tears are in Estelle's sympa- 
 thetic eyes. 
 
 Then she feels the hand of the maestro upon her arm ; 
 she is led to the piano, and sings for them, rather 
 tremblingly and quite bashfully, a couple of show- 
 pieces, such as young ladies achieve at convent gradu- 
 ation. 
 
 " Cospetto, thy voice is worthy of better music ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. IO1 
 
 mutters Da Messina, though Radetzky applauds vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 And, this being over, her padrone, who, apparently, 
 wishes to have some private conversation with their 
 guest, remarks : " Estelle, to-morrow you begin work 
 at nine o'clock, so it is time for thee to be in bed, little 
 one. Say good night to Captain Radetzky." 
 
 " But not, I hope, good-by," she suggests, cordially, 
 as she extends her hand to the Austrian. 
 
 And he, taking it delicately in his fingers, kisses it 
 respectfully, and murmurs : " Of course ! Tis but an 
 au revoir. You have a friend in me. In Milan, call 
 on Franz Radetzky, if he can be of service to you." 
 
 Careless words, but the young captain means them, 
 and in their truth is a great deal more to the pretty 
 girl who listens to him than at this time she imagines. 
 
 Then, after a courtesy to her master, Estelle going 
 out, the Austrian says : " Three times my offer, my 
 dear Carlo ! " 
 
 " Why do you wish it ? " asks the Italian, a tinge of 
 suspicion in his tone. 
 
 " Because I can never become famous in art myself, 
 and I would like to shine through reflected genius. 
 Some day I think that little girl in there " he points 
 to the door of Estelle's chamber " will become fa- 
 mous." 
 
 " Per Baccho!" cries the Italian, impulsively. " You 
 think, Franz, she will make a prima donna? So do I ! 
 No great, tragic, Lucretia of the stage, but a fairy- 
 voiced Linda, who'd charm a harder heart than yours 
 or mine, Radetzky ! " He looks at his friend with 
 searching eyes, and continues, decidedly : " I am com- 
 pelled to again refuse you. Ask anything but that." 
 
 " Very well. We will smoke the pipe of peace to- 
 gether, and then I'll go on my way to the De L'Eu- 
 rope," remarks the young Austrian, with a little sigh, 
 as he lights a cigar. 
 
 Whereupon the two gentlemen, who have become 
 more than comrades, and call each other Franz and
 
 102 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Carlo, over an additional bottle of wine and some ex- 
 cellent Havanas, pass a pleasant hour or two together, 
 their conversation touching upon art, music, Parisian 
 social life on anything but politics, but at times di- 
 rected with curious eagerness by Da Messina. 
 
 After they have shaken hands and said farewell, and 
 the Austrian has again whispered, " I owe my life to 
 you ! Good luck and happiness till we meet at Milan ! " 
 and gone down the stairs, Da Messina mutters to him- 
 self, a strange triumph in his voice : " I got the secret 
 I wanted out of him! It was a.. dastard trick, because 
 he has a true heart and he loves me. But putting to- 
 gether what Franz Radetzky said last night and a care- 
 less word or two picked up to-day, as we wandered 
 about the chapel of Notre Dame, and that little remark 
 he made about his uncle, the sturdy old Governor of 
 Milan, I know that sixty thousand re-enforcements are 
 ordered to join the Austrian troops in Italy. These can 
 not come till spring. We must strike in Lombardy be- 
 fore the flowers bloom ! " Then he glances toward the 
 room where his pretty charge is now sleeping, and 
 comments : " Tricking my friend out of military secrets 
 that his honor compels him to guard treating this poor 
 girl, whose very assumed childish graces give her new 
 
 charms for me " But here he checks himself by 
 
 jeering : " 'Twere a scurvy trick, my Italian conspir- 
 ator, to strive to win a woman's heart when putting 
 the halter about thy neck ! No, no ! My only safety, 
 her best fate, is that I am but the strict padrone to 
 my sweet captive. Cospctto! To-morrow I must be 
 so stern to her that she will hate me." 
 
 Carlo da Messina's face is strangely sad, his expres- 
 sion very tender. He tosses a kiss with his hand twice, 
 daintily, lovingly, toward the door that keeps his eyes 
 from his exquisite bound-girl, and with a sigh turns to 
 his lonely chamber.
 
 ADRIENNE .JE PORTALIS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " HOW'S THAT FOR A CLOSE-FISTED BRITISH LOVER OF 
 LIBERTY ? " 
 
 As the clock strikes nine the next morning, Estelle, 
 obedient to her padrone's instructions, trips into the 
 little parlor to find before her a gentleman who seems 
 a taskmaster. Even as Da Messina returns her greet- 
 ing, he says : " Now to business ; come with me to 
 the piano! Let me see what you can do with that 
 instrument." His tone is that of the pedagogue, 
 though he draws the piano-stool out for her, and 
 seats her carefully upon it. 
 
 She has scarce played twenty bars when he stops 
 her, saying : " More of that is unnecessary. You will 
 never make a great pianist." 
 
 " Oh, but the sisters said I played very well ! " 
 
 " For an amateur young lady, perhaps for the salon, 
 but never for the concert stage. Those delicate hands " 
 he takes one of hers in his and regards it critically 
 " haven't the power of a piano-thumper. If you play 
 well enough for your accompaniments, that will be all 
 that is necessary. Now, your voice ! Don't be fright- 
 ened. I already think it a beautiful one. Stand up! 
 I will play your accompaniment. Tell me the three 
 simple songs you know best ; not the trash you warbled 
 last night. " And she mentioning them to him, he says : 
 " They will do well enough to test you." He runs his 
 fingers over the keys, and at his word, tremblingly at 
 first, but encouraged once or twice by the pleased look 
 on his face, Estelle goes through the numbers. " Sing 
 me that last song again," he says, " and hold that high 
 B-flat, adding to it this little embellishment." He hums 
 a few notes of fioriture. 
 
 And, she doing his bidding, as she finishes he springs 
 up, and astonishes her by saying : "' Bravo ! Some day 
 I'll make you a prima donna ! " 
 
 " Oh, you think I can sing? "
 
 104 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Yes, beautifully, but with lots of practice and an 
 immensity of hard work ! " he replies. " You have the 
 voice of a linnet, marred by some atrocious faults, but 
 you have, also, a very good ear. Remember, accuracy 
 of intervals is the first thing to be attained," adding, 
 enthusiastically : " With such promise, I shall work 
 you very hard." 
 
 With this, he arranges and explains several vocal ex- 
 ercises for her, directing : " You will practice these 
 very carefully, and as constantly as possible, but not 
 over an hour at one time, until I can give you others." 
 Her little coroneted watch being left at the bankers' in 
 Troyes, he places his big, gold one on a nearby table, 
 remarking : " Time the length of your exercise by this. 
 Your voice must be strengthened, but never tired. Re- 
 member that ! Sing loud ! Let them hear you in that 
 corridor ; let any curious listener know that my bound- 
 girl is hard at work ! Now, how is our Italian ? " he 
 adds. " Bring me that little book we purchased at 
 Troyes. Thanks ! Let us hear what you have learned." 
 
 He seats himself, and, at his sign, Madame la Ba- 
 ronne stands before him, almost unconsciously taking 
 the pose of a school-girl at recitation. As his eyes 
 rest upon her, Carlo thinks she never looked more 
 attractive. A slight flush of anxiety on her face gives 
 piquancy to her delicate and emotional features. Her 
 little slippered feet, their heels tight together, their 
 toes turned demurely out, seem nervous under his 
 gaze. Once or twice her graceful knee gives a spas- 
 modic jerk. ~ 
 
 In truth, Estelle is very well aware that she knows 
 next to nothing on the subject about which she is to 
 be questioned, and wonders how her maestro will ac- 
 cept it. Her preceptor very shortly discovers this also, 
 and remarks, severely : " You don't seem to appreci- 
 ate, Mademoiselle, that my suggestions to you are com- 
 mands." 
 
 " On the contrary," she says, her great eyes gazing 
 truthfully into his ; " I I knew it was a task ! " Then
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. IO5 
 
 breaks out almost passionately : " But how could I re- 
 member anything in the agitation of hearing that the 
 papers said I was a " 
 
 " Sh h ! " His hand is placed gently upon her lips. 
 " Be careful ! " he whispers ; then goes on in louder 
 voice, a little chagrin in his tone : " But afterward 
 later in the day, and upon the boat there was a hand- 
 some young officer with us also to distract Mademoi- 
 selle's attention." 
 
 " I I thought not of him," she replies, indig- 
 nantly. " I remembered your commands no glances 
 at gentlemen. I I simply don't know my lesson, be- 
 cause " 
 
 " Peste, don't let me have any more excuses ! " he 
 interrupts, sharply. " The next time I question you, 
 you must know this, or I shall punish you. Italian is 
 the language of art. It must be your language. But 
 now I have some weighty things to arrange. Sapristi! 
 For you, little one, I have forgotten my breakfast." 
 
 He steps out of the room, and she, gazing after him, 
 thinks bitterly : " Why has he so changed since last 
 night ? Why is he so cold, so severe ? " and, in a de- 
 jected way, goes to practicing the vocal exercises he 
 has assigned her. 
 
 This is quite suddenly broken in upon. The parlor 
 door is so hurriedly opened thait Estelle gives a start. 
 The cavaliere stands before her, his face anxious, his 
 mien agitated. 
 
 " Quick ! That fellow is about this house ! " he whis- 
 pers. " In the dining-room he served my breakfast 
 under a waiter's apron. Is there anything that con- 
 nects you in the slightest with your former life, ex- 
 cept the dress you wore at Troyes? To destroy that 
 would be suspicious." 
 
 After a hurried examination, she comes running in 
 lo him, and murmurs in sad voice : " This this hand- 
 kerchief is the only thing that makes me aught save 
 Estelle, your apprentice." 
 
 "But your trunk! It has no marks upon it? I
 
 106 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 must be sure of that ! " Running into her room, he 
 finds a placard or two which shows another and for- 
 mer route of travel, and he orders hastily : " Some hot 
 water ! Wash this off, while I get rid of this. ' We 
 must make a clean house,' as the Carbonari say." 
 
 Estelle has scarce obeyed his instructions and re- 
 moved the labels from her trunk, when she hears Da 
 Messina in the parlor again. He is ringing the bell, 
 and asking that Signora Brisco be sent to him. 
 
 Then he calls his apprentice, and -she coming to him, 
 he whispers : " That handkerchief is smoke." 
 
 A moment later, La Brisco stands with them. To 
 their landlady he says : " I leave here to-morrow, so 
 that you must see that the rest of my apprentice's 
 wardrobe is ready for her." 
 
 " Oh, all that's nearly finished now ! " answers the 
 signora, briskly. " Two other dresses for every-day 
 use, and a white frock when she sings for you and 
 your friends in the evening. I have heard her voice. 
 It's a nice one, isn't it ? Reminds me of that old canary 
 bird, Pasta. Besides, if well taught, she would make 
 perhaps a passable dancer. She's got pretty, flexible 
 legs, though a little squeamish about showing them." 
 
 ''Your account for these matters of dress?" inter- 
 jects Da Messina, impatiently. 
 
 " It'll come in with your bill when you leave," re- 
 marks the landlady. Then, in the interests of trade, 
 she suggests: "Another dinner party this evening?" 
 
 " No. I have other business," replies il cavaliere, 
 as she goes away, and, turning to Estelle, he adds : 
 " You know what that is ! The notary will be here 
 with me at nine o'clock to-night. Until then I must 
 say adieu. Keep up your spirits. If anything awk- 
 ward happens to you, notify me immediately at this 
 address." He hands her a business card. " For your 
 own sake, remain strictly in these rooms." 
 
 And so he goes away, leaving the girl gazing at the 
 peculiar address he has left with her, for the business 
 <;ard reads : " Johnston Judkins, Agent for the Bir-
 
 ADRIENNE DE fORfALlS. 107 
 
 mingham Arms Company, with Gervaise et Cie, No. 47 
 Rue Grolee." 
 
 She puts this in her pocket, and spends a day that 
 would be dismal, did she not, fearing to displease her 
 padrone, practice her exercises most assiduously, and 
 even master a few Italian irregular verbs, though in 
 truth her studies are disjointed by passing sounds ; she 
 shudders at every unfamiliar step upon the corridor. 
 
 So, it comes to pass at nine o'clock this evening" that 
 a very pathetic young lady enters the parlor to find her 
 tnaestro awaiting her, together with an official-looking 
 gentleman, who is seated at a nearby table, making 
 some additions to a document which bears several 
 stamps and indorsements. 
 
 As she courtesys to her guardian, and acknowledges 
 the stranger's bow, the notary can not help thinking: 
 " A charming yet extremely diffident girl ; she blushes 
 every time I look at her." 
 
 As for Pergolese, pity comes to him as he notes his 
 ward's eyes and guesses she considers that she is robed 
 for sacrifice. 
 
 Estelle is all in white, even to the slippers and silk 
 stockings that the short bouffant skirt of muslin places 
 in ample evidence. Being frocked for evening, her 
 ivory shoulders are modestly displayed by a kind of 
 baby waist, whose sleeves, held up by ribbon bows, 
 leave bare her gracefully rounded arms, which gleam, 
 snowy, in the lamplight. To give her extreme youth, 
 her luxuriant hair has been unplaited, and hangs toss- 
 ing in brown curls over her sloping shoulders, fettered 
 only by a single satin ribbon. 
 
 Anxious to get the matter over, Da Messina, beck- 
 oning her to him, says : " Estelle, this is the official who 
 will take your acknowledgment by which you assent to 
 your apprenticeship to me. The document was drawn 
 up in Paris, and signed by your parents there. As you 
 are sixteen years of age, it is well that your signature 
 be upon it also."
 
 108 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Then, addressing the notary, he asks: "Is every- 
 thing ready ? " 
 
 " Quite so. I will now accept the girl's acknowledg- 
 ment," says the official, and, turning to the candidate, 
 he asks her in business routine : " Your name is Estelle 
 Gabrielle Chartres?" 
 
 And Madame la Baronne, being compelled to un- 
 truth, whispers : " Yes ! " 
 
 " You will sign here ! " the notary says. 
 
 Her limbs tremble as she sinks into a chair they 
 have placed for her, and her eyes~swim as she con- 
 trives to scribble her new signature upon the paper, 
 and, holding up her hand, gives her acknowledgment, 
 and by document becomes the bound-girl of Carlo da 
 Messina. 
 
 A moment later they are alone, the notary having 
 bowed himself out. 
 
 Two burning tears fall upon the paper, as his charge 
 strides up to Carlo, her eyes blazing, and places the 
 indenture in his hand. To him she says, hoarsely : 
 " This, coupled with my sacred oath to you, makes me 
 yours! For I dare never assume my rightful name." 
 
 " Yes," he answers, a repressed triumph in his voice. 
 " Now I am indeed your padrone ! " 
 
 On this, Estelle's eyes lose their fire; she steals a 
 little hand into his strong clasp, and pleads : " Oh, God, 
 put mercy in your heart for me ! " 
 
 " You you are sorry ? " Da Messina asks, despite 
 his resolution returning the pressure of her clinging 
 fingers, for his captive in her pathos is very beautiful. 
 
 " Who would not be sorry," she bursts forth, " in 
 my awful position? A false name a false identity! 
 I, who was once a baroness, am now only your your 
 serf! That's what this paper means that's what it 
 really is! " 
 
 " Trust me, little one," he says, in kindly tone, and 
 would place his hand soothingly upon the floating curls, 
 which take varying tints of bronze and brown under 
 the lamplight.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. I<X) 
 
 But she turns upon him, and with feminine instinct 
 falters : " I I can see by your face that you mean to 
 hold me to my indentures, after we are in Italy." 
 
 " Did not I tell you," replies her padrone, " that, in 
 order for you to escape extradition to France, in order 
 that my trip to this country may seem to have been a 
 business one to Austrian inquisitors for your safety, as 
 well as. mine I must hold you as my apprentice." 
 
 " But after that ? This document is for seven years. 
 You still mean to keep me? " 
 
 Here a strange feeling, that he has fought against, 
 but which has been growing in his heart, overcoming 
 him, he cries : " Diavolo ! With such a voice as yours, 
 YES ! " adding, enthusiastically, " Did not I tell you that 
 I would make you a prima donna ! " then goes on, hur- 
 riedly, as if to justify himself : " Cospetto, is that not 
 enough ! Besides, thy indentures " he taps the docu- 
 ment he holds in his hand " are valuable. For them 
 the Austrian officer offered me a mighty sum." 
 
 At this unfortunate remark, a kind of torture comes 
 in Estelle's face ; her lips tremble ; her cheeks glow red 
 as fire, then turn pallid ; as, wringing her hands, she 
 moans : " Bargained for, as if a slave ! To thy shame 
 to his shame to my shame ! " 
 
 " No, no ! " he cries. " It were an infamy if I per- 
 mitted you to misjudge Radetzky. He is an honest, 
 open-hearted gentleman. His only thought was that 
 he could do a grand thing for you, and find you an 
 opening to success upon the stage of Vienna, where 
 his uncle, the great general, is in high favor with both 
 court and emperor." 
 
 " But you refused ? " she gasps, a wistful look coming 
 into her face, as she steals a glance at her dictator, 
 whose sternness sometimes gives her despair, whose 
 kindness at others seems to make her radiant. 
 
 " Refused? Of course I did ! " he answers, an awak- 
 ening passion making his face gleam. " Thou art my 
 most valued possession ! I yield thee to no man ! " 
 
 There is a love-light in his eyes, but she sees it not,
 
 IIO ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 for she mutters, hoarsely: " Mon Dieu! You regard 
 me as PROPERTY ! " And, clinching her little white fists 
 in impotent protest, this lady, who by cruel fate, has 
 been legally compelled to strip herself of title, name, 
 and station, and decree herself to childish government 
 at the hands of a taskmaster, rushes to her little cham- 
 ber, and bursts into a torrent of despairing tears. 
 
 Carlo is about to follow her, but there is a rap at 
 the parlor door. He steps hastily to it, and a servant, 
 entering, announces : " A gentleman asks to see you." 
 
 A sudden determination flashes in the Italian's face. 
 He says, hastily : " I expect him ! Never mind his 
 name. Show him up to me at once ! " 
 
 Some hours after this, tossing in her sleep, Estelle 
 awakens. A ray of light under the door of her 
 room comes in from the neighboring apartment. For 
 a moment she can not remember where she is. Then 
 Da Messina's voice from the adjoining parlor smites 
 her with recollection. Tears come again into her eyes. 
 She shudders : " His bound-girl ! Bid for as one ! 
 Valued as one ! " 
 
 But here a more imminent terror masters her. Two 
 men are talking excitedly in the parlor. She catches 
 the words : " Police in hiding at the frontier." 
 
 The horror of the pursued flies through her veins. 
 She thinks, affnghtedly : " Can it be that some officer 
 is accusing him of shielding me?" In a moment she 
 has slipped from her bed, her white, dimpled feet, in 
 their nude beauty, making no sound upon the floor. 
 She glides to the entrance, and, opening the door very 
 slightly, looks anxiously out. 
 
 Astonishment comes to her. A man, dressed in the 
 rough frieze of a traveling salesman, is exhibiting a 
 rifle, or musket, and speaking with English accent and 
 trade directness. 
 
 A heavy curtain has been drawn over the parlor 
 door leading to the outside corridor, but to Estelle,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. Tit 
 
 standing scarce ten feet away, the man's voice, though 
 low, is quite distinct. 
 
 " These," he says, " have the latest improvements, 
 Signore. Their range is fifty yards more than the 
 guns of the blooming Austrian infantry." 
 
 " Yes, I know that," answers Da Messina. " I in- 
 vestigated this arm in Paris, and also again at your 
 office here. And you say that ten thousand of these 
 can be delivered ? " 
 
 " Yes," replies the man, " I can guarantee ten thou- 
 sand, or even fifteen thousand, with sufficient ammu- 
 nition, at the price named." 
 
 " It is a heavy one," mutters il cavaliere. 
 
 " Ah ! But Italian liberty, my dear sir, is worth the 
 price," whispers the vender, who is apparently an agent 
 for some English arms manufacturing company. 
 
 " Yes," replies Carlo, " the liberty of my country is 
 worthy of anything ! But be sure these weapons are 
 in time. As it is, the Austrian government has requi- 
 sitioned even every fowling-piece in Lombardy. If we 
 fight now, we only have the weapons of despair cob- 
 blestones and stilettos. But the night is late. I have 
 had no sleep, practically, for two days. Come to me 
 to-morrow morning at seven o'clock, with your con- 
 tracts. Understand me? These must be delivered by 
 the I4th of March to the appointed parties at Genoa. 
 They must be all wrapped in hay, so that they may be 
 conveyed across the Lombardian frontier in farmers' 
 wagons." 
 
 " By the I4th? " remarks the agent, dubiously. " 1 
 can catch the direct steamer from Marseilles to Malta 
 on the 5th. Five days the loth a fast steamer. I'll 
 have them at Genoa by the I5th, at the latest. You 
 see, we could never do this in such quick time, but we 
 happen to have the arms already on board a steamer 
 at Malta. They were intended for the Albanians; but 
 they've run short of funds. By the I5th I'll do it! 
 It's ten thousand your committee wanted, with one
 
 112 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 hundred cartridges per gun at the price named, if 
 payment is secured." 
 
 " That shall be ready for you on delivery of the arms 
 in Genoa; drafts of the Messrs. Gibbs, accepted by 
 Coutts Brothers, London." 
 
 " God bless my soul," ejaculates the man of com- 
 merce, " that's the same as gold coin ! " 
 
 " It is the gold and silver plate of many Italian noble 
 families that has gone into the melting-pot to give us 
 the sinews of war," remarks Da Messina, sadly. Then 
 he writes, hurriedly, and, handing the slip of paper to 
 his visitor, says : " Here are the names of the parties 
 who will receive the goods and pay you for them, 
 and also the Sardinian officers of customs, who 
 will pass your invoice of hay bales, without examina- 
 tion, at Genoa. But you must deliver them not later 
 than the I5th! Then they can be at Tortone on the 
 1 7th, and our hay wagons cross the frontier, so 
 that He checks himself, and mutters : " O Gran 
 Dio ! Is the time so near to strike ? " 
 
 " By Heaven ! " cries the arms agent, enthusiastic- 
 ally; "I'll have 'em delivered on time, if I have to 
 blow the boilers out of our steamer to do it. You can 
 believe me, I'll attend to this matter personally, on the 
 honor of a business man." 
 
 " Yes, I believe in British business faith, or I should 
 not have dared to so unbosom myself to you as this 
 matter has compelled me," answers the Italian. " And 
 now good night, Englishman. You may thank God 
 that you are free, though you manufacturers make 
 freedom a pretty high article to struggling patriots." 
 
 " Struggling patriots are generally pretty uncertain 
 pay ! " laughs the other. Then he says, with English 
 brusqueness : " But, for such bills as you state, which 
 are cash, thirty per cent, off! How is that for a 
 close-fisted British lover of liberty?" 
 
 " Diavolo! I thank you," whispers the other, and 
 clasps the hand of the man of commerce, eagerly and 
 gratefully.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 1 13 
 
 " But, besides," remarks his visitor, " in addition I 
 must request " 
 
 " What new demand? " sneers Carlo, savagely. 
 
 " That you sing me one song. I have never yet 
 heard Pergolese, and I love music." 
 
 " Corpo di Baccho ! I will sing you half a dozen, 
 generous Englishman ! " cries the tenor, excitedly. 
 " With this discount, twelve thousand muskets, instead 
 of the ten thousand, and two hundred rounds of am- 
 munition a gun ! God bless you ! " and he wrings the 
 hand of the British manufacturer. 
 
 A moment later, Adrienne glides back to her cot. 
 Lying there, she murmurs : " As I suspected, an Ital- 
 ian patriot ! In Milan, under the Austrian rule, you 
 my dictator a secret conspirator, taking up arms! 
 Grace a Dieu! I will have such a hold upon you as 
 poor bound-girl never had before upon Italian pa- 
 drone!" 
 
 For one moment, she laughs jeeringly; then gasps: 
 " Oh, God, forgive me ! His touch thrills me, his 
 voice enchants me ! " as she listens to Pergolese sing- 
 ing, with all a noble soul, the weapons of liberty out of 
 the hardheaded British tradesman. 
 
 While, in the corridor outside, gliding with slippered 
 feet, is Parogue, garbed as a waiter, the most adroit 
 mouchard of old Vidocq. He is meditating : " Ton- 
 nerre de Dieu! This fellow is assuredly a great artist, 
 but is that shrinking thing in there his bound-girl, to 
 be taken to Italy and beaten into a stage-girl to fill his 
 purse? Or is she our naughty Madame la Baronne, 
 slipping out of France, and this singer, her lover, aid- 
 ing her escape? Venire bleu! Ladies of title have 
 loved tenors before this." 
 
 Then the grandeur of the song floating out to him 
 touches his artistic, old soul, and makes him applaud 
 beneath his breath; and he mutters: " Diable! That 
 chap rivals that fellow Rubini, who, ten years ago, at 
 Des Italiennes, set Paris crazy ! "
 
 114 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE PURSUING SHADOW. 
 
 Da Messina, who has finished some very early busi- 
 ness with the English arms dealer, is rising from his 
 breakfast, his hostess wishing him bon voyage. 
 
 " Estelle ? " he queries, in hurried anxiety, looking at 
 his watch. " She should be here." 
 
 " Cospetto ! " replies La Brisco, angrily. " When I 
 awakened mademoiselle this morning, as you directed, 
 she was sulky; said she didn't want to go to Italy. So 
 I said to her : ' Oho ! What you want, my lazy one, 
 is a little of thy padrone's stick ! ' ' 
 
 " Morbleu, you must have frightened the poor child 
 to death! " ejaculates Carlo, distress upon his face. 
 
 " I did not," dissents La Brisco, dryly. " The poor 
 child grew like a tigress, shook her rebellious, little fist 
 at me, and called me a harridan. But I have a way 
 with girls," she continues. "I cheered mademoiselle 
 up by telling her she would be great some day ; that 
 already she had charmed our new waiter, who, having 
 caught her voice at her exercises, has been asking all 
 the questions in the world about the beautiful song- 
 stress. Then pride made our song-bird very lively. 
 She bustled about at a great rate, I can tell you. Her 
 trunk is packed, and she is all ready for the journey. 
 But in Italy you'll have to tame her ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " mutters il cavaliere, hastily, " she's com- 
 ing ! " as his apprentice joins him. 
 
 Though Estelle looks very innocent in her little, 
 brown dress, there is a latent mutiny in her bright 
 eyes, and her nose is altogether too haughty for a 
 bound-girl. 
 
 She is about to take a seat at the table in a languid, 
 debonair, supercilious way, when La Brisco cries, 
 sharply: " Where are your manners, child? " 
 
 And, perchance being moved to her action by a glint 
 in Da Messina's eyes, Madame la Baronne makes a
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTAL1S. 1 15 
 
 scant courtesy, but contradicts the salute by a very 
 savage " Good morning, mio padrone!" 
 
 " Good morning, Estelle ! " he answers, quickly ; and, 
 apparently not wishing discussion, says : " Your break- 
 fast will be brought to you. I have finished mine, and 
 must attend to my packing, and settling madame's bill." 
 With this, he goes hastily into his room, a very troubled 
 look upon his face, while La Brisco, stepping out also, 
 looks at his haughty apprentice, shrugs her plump 
 shoulders, and thinks, grimly : " I pity Miss Terma- 
 gant's poor padrone. Diavolo! He hasn't strength 
 enough to conquer the waywardness of this child, who 
 is kicking her surly feet about under the table." 
 
 Estelle is still in a haughty mood when the art-loving 
 waiter of the Hotel Tarascon trips lightly in, his slip- 
 pered feet scarce sounding on the floor, and arranges 
 deftly the breakfast of the bound-girl. 
 
 Scarce heeding him, this young lady seems to be re- 
 garding bitterly a very short skirt which displays a 
 pair of pretty feet in stout, high-laced French bottines, 
 provided by the common-sense of La Brisco. As he 
 places the omelet before her, she stamps a little foot in 
 impotent rage. 
 
 But he simply waits upon her, though every move- 
 ment of the graceful creature is under his sharp eye. 
 She finishes a half-eaten breakfast, and he says, polite- 
 ly : " Mademoiselle, might I trouble you to sign the 
 check," and places her account before her. 
 
 In listless manner, Estelle has produced her little 
 purse, and placed a silver franc upon the table. She is 
 drawing off a glove for her little hand to write a name 
 that would probably betray her, when there darts from 
 the chamber of her master a man, with savage eye 
 and hasty mien, who says, sternly : " Squandering my 
 money, you brat ! The six francs I let you put in your 
 pocket to show people that I was not a miser ! " Then 
 he cries to the waiter : " I pay my own bills ; take that 
 to the office, and, that you may see that I am not a 
 stingy Italian, here are five centimes for thy pour boire.
 
 Il6 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Off with you ! Estelle, get your cloak on at once ! " 
 His manner is so ferocious that the waiter disappears 
 without another word, leaving the girl gazing in speech- 
 less horror upon this cruel man who rules her. 
 
 But she has scarce time for fear! After a hasty 
 glance at the entrance, to be sure that the waiter 
 is truly gone, this man of strange moods slams the 
 door to; then, flying to his affrighted charge, he ten- 
 derly takes her in his strong arms, and, lifting her up, 
 shudders : " God forgive me ! I have frightened you ! 
 That was the waiter whom I fear the one who was so 
 curious about your actions. Your movement was that 
 of a lady accustomed to paying her own bills at restaur- 
 ants. That franc the fee a countess might give for 
 that little breakfast ! What may he not suspect ? What 
 may he not think ?" Then a change comes into his voice; 
 he says, commandingly : " From now on, no more mu- 
 tiny. Your servitude is your safety in France. Don't 
 torture me by making me feel I am a brute to you, 
 even if I seem cruel. You have common-sense enough 
 to know the reason of a harshness that drives me dis- 
 tracted whenever your eyes have anguish in them. I 
 fear this man will follow me. No words, no actions, 
 no looks must betray that you are anything but my 
 bound-girl ; that I am aught but thy padrone, who will 
 coin thy talents into money, and beat thee if thou art 
 rebellious. Now, this is my last apology to thee." 
 Holding her before him, there is a pleading in his 
 twitching face. She utters a faint, bashful cry ; it seems 
 as if he would kiss her lips, but he only presses a burn- 
 ing salute upon her little hands, twice, very tenderly. 
 
 " Ah, now that you are kind to me, I am not afraid 
 of you ! " she says, in pretty pathos. 
 
 Then his demeanor astounds her more. " Now I 
 should frighten you ! " he mutters, hoarsely, and gazes 
 at her with greedy eyes ; then, in loud tones, cries : 
 " Go, get on your wraps ! Quick ! Be ready, girl, to 
 take the boat within five minutes." 
 
 So it comes to pass that Estelle, looking exceedingly
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 117 
 
 pretty and very shy, is brought down by the cavaliere 
 to a waiting carriage. 
 
 Their hostess comes out to say a last adieu to Pergo- 
 lese. She babbles effusively : " Don't let my friends in 
 Italy forget their old favorite that they used to call la 
 bell' Annina. By the bye," she adds, " that waiter, 
 who loves art, was so frightened by your brusqueness, 
 Signore, when he carried up Estelle's breakfast, that 
 he's left the hotel without his wages ! " and wonders 
 what makes Carlo and his ward look so disquieted as 
 they drive away hastily to the boat that takes them to 
 Avignon, from whence they will journey by diligence, 
 and partly completed railway, to Marseilles. 
 
 And they have cause to fear, for, after them, all this 
 day, as they voyage together on the deck of the steam- 
 er or journey in the diligence in the evening that carries 
 them to Aries, or in the train that bears them into Mar- 
 seilles, even in the darkness of the great tunnel enter- 
 ing that town, is a pursuing shadow. 
 
 Jacques Parogue, Vidocq's oldest and slyest mou- 
 chard, inspired by ten thousand francs' reward, has 
 thought it well to bring a naughty little aristocrate back 
 to justice. 
 
 " Madame la Baronne de Portalis is to be looked for." 
 
 " Madame la Baronne de Portalis has disappeared, 
 having no passport." 
 
 " Adele Pichoir is dead, but Adele Pichoir's pass- 
 port has been used by a woman going to Montereau." 
 
 To that place he has flown, but has been halted by 
 the discovery that the same evening after the arrival of 
 the boat a lady and gentleman, on horseback, left, going 
 toward Montargis. This clew he has, however, found 
 to be a false one. 
 
 He has heard of a man and a woman journeying by 
 post to Troyes upon a single passport, stating that the 
 man is an Italian padrone, the girl his apprentice. 
 
 To Troyes he has gone, but has found no trace of 
 the passport of Adele Pichoir; the reports he hears of 
 the Italian singer, with a modest and retiring girl of
 
 Il8 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 about sixteen, make him almost hopeless. Then he 
 catches a rumor that Madame la Baronne and her par- 
 amour lover, by the aid of friends, engaged a private 
 carriage in Montereau for Orleans. It is too late to 
 follow them that way. If they go toward the Mediter- 
 ranean, they are quite certain to come to Lyons; there 
 he will head them off. 
 
 So, twelve hours after Da Messina, on Sunday morn- 
 ing, Parogue had put his acute, old phiz into that town ; 
 but, finding naught of a lady coming from Orleans, 
 and time being heavy upon his hands, the old detec- 
 tive, who is an industrious fellow, though he has as 
 yet little suspicion in that direction, thinks he may as 
 well discover what he can about the Italian singer and 
 the girl he has under his charge. 
 
 Consequently, inquiring among people connected 
 with stage and opera, he chances to stumble upon 
 the ex-wardrobe mistress of the Naples theater. 
 
 " Oh, I know Pergolese very well ! " replies the 
 woman. " He came on the boat with me from Chalons. 
 Italy thinks him a great tenor, and I think him a very 
 kind-hearted fellow ; for here's a very curious state of 
 things he has an apprentice who loves her padrone." 
 
 " Diable! Loves him? What makes you think 
 that?" 
 
 " Well, he jumped overboard from a Saone boat to 
 save a fool of an Austrian, and his bound-girl wept 
 for him as if her heart would break. What made me 
 notice it was the little stage trollop's using a handker- 
 chief as dainty as any fine lady's. Ma foi! It had a 
 coronet stamped in its corner! There's cheek for a 
 chorus girl." 
 
 " Humph ! Perhaps it was because Pergolese has a 
 small Italian title," remarks the mouchard, but goes 
 away hastily, and this coroneted handkerchief, with 
 some small things he notices, as, two hours after, he 
 gazes upon the Italian and his charge on the hill Des 
 Fourvieres, make him sufficiently interested in Da Mes- 
 sina's protegee to take the post of extra waiter at the
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. IIQ 
 
 crowded Hotel Tarascon. Here enough suspicions 
 come to him to make him go further, though he notices 
 the girl is strictly governed and kept well to her work. 
 He is also acquainted with the visit of the British arms 
 manufacturer in the dead of night to the room of the 
 Italian; for very little escapes his red, ferret eyes. 
 
 So it chances that an old revolutionary officer comes 
 on the boat shortly after Da Messina and his charge 
 at Lyons. He has grizzled hair, well-trimmed and 
 tight-twisted, waxed mustachioes, an empty sleeve for 
 the left arm, " lost at Waterloo when I was one of 
 Kellermann's cuirassiers,'' he states to some inquiring 
 passengers. In a quiet way he smokes a pipe con- 
 stantly, and his bright eyes at times twinkle as he 
 notices how Estelle is embarrassed by her short skirts, 
 which, the day being windy, give many piquant views 
 of exquisitely graceful, yet extremely well-developed 
 limbs for her tender age. 
 
 The object of his solicitude has dainty manners, this 
 old officer remarks, and at her lunch in the little salon 
 eats like an aristocrat. She has a curious, timid man- 
 ner of hitching down the skirt of her dress. This, 
 however, is common enough in growing girls, thougty 
 these do it defiantly, as if to 'assert a greater maturity 
 than belongs to them. 
 
 To contradict this, mademoiselle is apparently strictly 
 governed. Her guardian seems to always keep his eye 
 upon her. Even on the deck of the steamboat, slightly 
 apart from the throng of passengers, she is required to 
 stand before her padrone, as he, seated in lazy com- 
 fort, hears her recite her lesson in Italian. 
 
 Some little time after this, mademoiselle, having 
 been led to one of the few dingy cabins of the boat, 
 which has, apparently, been engaged by her governor, 
 and left by herself for the tenor is smoking a cigar 
 at the bow of the boat the old officer contrives, while 
 passing this stateroom, to stumble, and in that stumble 
 tries the door, and finds that it is locked. 
 
 "Venire fyleu!" he mutters, "Mademoiselle has
 
 I2O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 been naughty, and is locked up. That would not hap- 
 pen to a baroness under the escort of her lover." In 
 this he deceives himself, however, as Estelle, for her 
 own privacy, has fastened the door upon herself. 
 
 This discovery has such an effect upon the old gen- 
 darme that he thinks it hardly worth while to travel 
 farther, and has already made up his mind to desert 
 the boat when it reaches Valence; but before this, one 
 or two little things occur to again arouse his suspicions 
 and make him journey on. 
 
 The girl, apparently released from her confinement, 
 has been brought upon deck by her guardian, who is 
 showing her some of the famous ruined castles upon 
 the right bank of the river. Such attention from a pa- 
 drone is suspicious. Besides, the deck being quite slip- 
 pery from some leaves of vegetables brought on at 
 St. Vallier, she nearly falls, but is caught up, and car- 
 ried to a neighboring chair with such consideration that 
 the mouchard is astounded. Then a grim smile ripples 
 his face, for he sees that the arm that supports the 
 slender waist is pressing it with a lover's tender ardor. 
 
 "Parbleu!" he communes with himself. "He may 
 be her padrone, but this man also loves this girl. At 
 Marseilles I shall have some certain proof whether this 
 pretty, shrinking thing is my naughty, little Baronne 
 or no." 
 
 So, after a time, as the boat is approaching Monteli- 
 mart, just before dusk, he steps up to Estelle, who is 
 for the moment alone upon the deck, and, with the 
 prerogative of extreme age, says : " You seem to be 
 interested in the sights of the Rhone, Mademoiselle. 
 Would you like to hear the tale of an old soldier about 
 that tumble-down castle upon yonder hill ? Fifty years 
 ago it was a military prison. When I was a lieutenant, 
 after the Italian war, we had two thousand Austrian 
 prisoners there, and I commanded a guard of but 
 twenty men we needed the rest in Italy, Egypt, 
 and " 
 
 " I beg you, Monsieur, I am not permitted to talk
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 121 
 
 to gentlemen," falters the addressed one, with a start 
 of consternation. 
 
 " Pish ! I am too old to hurt you, my timid but- 
 terfly ! " he guffaws. 
 
 " But but, sir, my padrone ! He is so stern with 
 me!" 
 
 She raises her hand pathetically, as Da Messina is 
 striding toward them. 
 
 " Ah, then I'll not get thee into trouble," growls 
 the old fighter, who seems to be quite well pleased, as 
 he withdraws, for upon the wedding finger of his sus- 
 pect's white hand is a slight, red mark, where a ring 
 had rested once. 
 
 " Morbleu," he thinks, " Madame la Baronne is a 
 widow! " then mutters: " Peste! Her face is too in- 
 nocent ! She could not have done the crimes of which 
 they accuse La Portalis." But after a moment his 
 mind changes, and he cogitates : " I have read, though, 
 that Brinvillers had the face of an angel, yet history 
 says she poisoned half a regiment. Tonnerre de Dieu! 
 If I had but a daguerreotype ! These sun pictures are 
 not very good, but they will have better some day, 
 and then, when railroads are built all over France, 
 and this new, great thief-catcher, the electric telegraph, 
 of which we have had a little taste between Paris and 
 Calais, is sending messages in no time everywhere 
 there is a bad time coming for flying criminals." 
 
 So, the old campaigner smokes his pipe content- 
 edly, as the boat, a few hours after, runs up to the 
 landing at Avignon. From that point he follows his 
 engaging suspect by diligence and train until, at about 
 eleven o'clock this night, she and her guardian reach 
 the great commercial city of Marseilles, that lies be- 
 side the blue waters of the Mediterranean. 
 
 All this time, to the appealing eyes of his ward, Da 
 Messina seems to be getting more anxious. Estelle has 
 already told him of the old Napoleon campaigner's ad- 
 vances to her. At Avignon, Carlo has cast some pierc- 
 ing glances at this man, and what he sees is by no
 
 122 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 means satisfactory. Later, at Marseilles, as the crowd 
 jostle each other in what was at that time the little 
 railway station, the Italian appears to be pushed 
 against the old warrior, brushing quite heavily upon 
 the veteran's empty sleeve. From this moment, Pergo- 
 lese, to his bound-girl, seems to be frenzied. He goes 
 out of the station and cries loudly in far-reaching tones : 
 " A hack for the Hotel de Naples ! Quick ! For the 
 Naples in a hurry ! Double pour boire to the man who 
 drives fast ! " 
 
 Of course, half a dozen hackmen fight for this gen- 
 erous fare. This delays him a minute. But, selecting 
 one rather deliberately, in curious contrast to his rapid 
 tones, he hurries his charge to the little Italian hotel 
 called the Naples, near the Old Port, on the Rue Beau- 
 veau. 
 
 As they drive along the street, looking through the 
 rear window of the coupe, Estelle whispers : " Mise- 
 ricorde! He is following us! " 
 
 " In another hack ? Bravo ! That's what I wanted 
 him to do ! " returns Carlo, vindictively. 
 
 As they alight at the hotel, Estelle notices that the 
 place, which is very convenient for passengers on the 
 Mediterranean boats, it being close to the Old Port, in 
 which the steamers docked,* seems to be frequented by 
 a goodly portion of the Italian colony of this great 
 French seaport. The Naples is also just large enough 
 to give privacy. 
 
 At her governor's hasty direction, they are imme- 
 diately shown up to their rooms, on the third floor, 
 three en suite parlor and two bedrooms opening off. 
 The passages leading to their apartments in the dark- 
 ness of almost midnight are quite deserted. Da Mes- 
 sina, who seems to know the place, has selected a quiet 
 portion of the house. 
 
 Instead of ordering supper, the moment he and Es- 
 teile are alone, he says : " Take off your jacket, girl ! 
 
 * The grand new docks upon the Quai de la Joliette were not open to 
 commerce till 1850. ED.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 123 
 
 Unbind your hair, and toss it, disheveled, over your 
 shoulders ! " He presses his hand to his brow, and his 
 eyes become agonized. " You will forgive me ? " he 
 begs. " You must forgive me for this ! " 
 
 " Oh, Heaven ! What do you mean to do? " 
 
 " The only thing that now, I think, can save you." 
 
 He goes hastily out of the room, as Estelle, whose 
 fingers tremble as she does his bidding, tosses off her 
 jacket and unbinds her hair. In a dazed kind of way 
 she notes that Carlo's steps are very quiet. He stands 
 at the head of the stairway coming up to the little cor- 
 ridor which touches the entrance of their parlor. After 
 very short waiting, he glides into the room, closes the 
 door hastily, and flies to her. 
 
 She gasps in affright, and buries her blushing face 
 in her hands, for he has torn with rapid pluck the 
 slight, brown frock from off her shoulders. 
 
 " Now," he whispers, " for your life, moan as if I 
 were torturing you ! Beg me for mercy ! Sigh and 
 scream, but not to alarm the house! That's it that's 
 it ! " Then, a kind of frenzy coming into his eyes, he 
 mutters : " Pardon me, for the love of God ! " and 
 slaps, quite sharply, her delicate shoulders of gleaming 
 ivory until they are as red as fire; then flies to the 
 portal. 
 
 And she, obeying him, in a frightened, half-dis- 
 tracted way, moans, and begs, and pleads, as if she 
 were a bound-girl being scourged ; while he, with 
 quick movement, pulls open the door, seizes a one- 
 armed man who, apparently, has been listening to the 
 girl's screams, and drags him, struggling, in. 
 
 " Basta! " he laughs, jeeringly, to the fighting fellow. 
 " You've bound up one arm to trick me, Austrian 
 spy ! Now I bind up the other ! " And, with a scarf 
 torn from his waist, he ties the man, who struggles 
 impotently with a single hand against the fury of a 
 strong, young, active, and desperate antagonist. 
 
 Then, bound and helpless, and tossed into a chair, 
 old Jacques Parogue curses his deft disguise that has
 
 124 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 given him but a one-arm power to fight like a wildcat 
 for his life; for a long, gleaming razor-edge stiletto 
 is at his throat, and this wild-eyed Italian is snarling: 
 " Ha, ha ! Spy of the Hapsburgs, disguised as the 
 old soldier of the revolution ! So you have come once 
 more to attempt to trick the secret of ' Young Italy ' 
 out of this fool girl, who chattered to thee on the Lyons 
 boat! Dost wish to get her beaten again? But thy 
 tongue will now be very still ! " 
 
 The upraised knife tells this old fellow, who has been 
 in many a ticklish place before, that if he opens his 
 mouth to cry for help, his first shriek will be his last. 
 
 Therefore, he says, shivering a little before the gleam- 
 ing blade : " I am no damned Austrian ! No old sol- 
 dier of France loves them ! " 
 
 " Basta ! Not love them, but their money ! Aus- 
 trian gold is clinking in thy pocket! Otherwise, why 
 did you lurk outside my chamber in the Lyons hotel, 
 when I had interview with the English arms manufac- 
 turer? Santo Gennaro, don't lie to me, with shaking 
 head, when you should be praying for thy soul ! Re- 
 member, I caught you listening in the corridor, and 
 you pretended 'twas because thou lov'st the voice of 
 Pergolese." 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! You recognize me?" snarls 
 the accused. 
 
 " And why not ? A member of the old Carbonari is 
 cunning at detecting the agents of Austria. You are 
 the waiter who loved art last night at Lyons, and to- 
 day became the old republican officer. You must be an 
 Austrian spy; otherwise, why did you follow me an 
 Italian, anxious only for the good of his country? 
 Peste! I can not believe thee! " 
 
 The dagger is raised on high, as if it would be 
 driven straight into the bound man's heart. 
 
 But he mutters, frantically: "Norn de Dieu! Hold 
 thy hand, and I'll tell you why! I am an officer of 
 police in search of a criminal." 
 
 " A criminal ? Oho ! You make me laugh ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 125 
 
 " I have a warrant to arrest Madame la Baronne de 
 Portalis. You can find the paper in my pocket." 
 
 " Yes, it is here," remarks Carlo, hastily, holding 
 up a document that makes his bound-girl shiver and 
 cower farther from him, as though she feared her stern 
 master. 
 
 " Madame la Baronne is accused of forging her dead 
 husband's name to his will," goes on the mouchard, 
 eager to convince. " It is also whispered that she put 
 arsenic in the old gentleman's tea, like that petite dia- 
 blesse Lafarge. Likewise it is known that she is young 
 and beautiful, and is escaping from France with one of 
 her lovers. Pardon me, Monsieur. I thought you might 
 be the lover, and that " he glances toward the shrink- 
 ing girl, who has shuddered to a corner " might be 
 Madame la Baronne de Portalis." 
 
 " That Madame la Baronne de Portalis ! " guffaws 
 the Italian, and, seizing Estelle by her wrist, he swings 
 her round, crying : " Show Monsieur your red shoul- 
 ders ! " and jeers : " Madame la Baronne has been well 
 beaten on your account, Monsieur! I do not permit 
 Madame la Baronne to speak to anyone." 
 
 " Bound as I am," mutters the revolutionary officer, 
 " I tell you, it is a dastard thing to beat a poor girl." 
 
 " Not when she disobeys strict orders. For, being 
 with me, she might betray my secrets, which are the 
 secrets of Italian liberty." 
 
 At this, Estelle almost destroys herself, for she begs 
 wildly : " Don't tell him more ! For the love of Heaven, 
 don't compromise yourself ! " 
 
 " Shut thy fool mouth ! " scoffs Carlo, in desperate 
 voice. " Cospetto ! To thy room, Madame la Baronne, 
 and get thy dress off for the scourging I shall give you 
 for making all this trouble ! " 
 
 Seizing her delicate arm in apparent savage clasp, he 
 pushes her into her little chamber, slams the door upon 
 her, and, locking it, puts the key in his pocket. 
 
 To the old mouchard, bound and helpless, this Ital- 
 ian seems an ogre to this poor, beaten child, as he
 
 126 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 comes back and seats himself calmly before his cap- 
 tive. Lighting a cigar, he observes, easily : " I have 
 no objection to your knowing an Italian conspirator, 
 Monsieur, because you dare not betray one. You may 
 be a great policeman, my friend, but you are not a 
 very good politician,'or you would be aware that, since 
 France is a republic, Austria, the ally of the dethroned 
 Louis Philippe, is now considered the enemy of France ; 
 that the heads of your government are now the friends 
 of ' Young Italy ' ; that our revolution in Lombardy 
 and Venice, which has only been waiting for the cry, 
 " France is free ! " is now their pet political nursling ! 
 Learn by these letters from Odilon Barrot, Cremieux, 
 and Carnot, that, if I say the word, your official head 
 yes, and old Vidocq's, too may drop." He hurriedly 
 produces some letters that bear names that make the 
 old gendarme roll his eyes in a groggy way. 
 
 ' There is a greater reason why your secret is safe 
 with me," he says, doggedly : " I have fought the Aus- 
 trians too often under le Petit Corporal not to hate them. 
 Tonnerre de Dieu! I would like to be with you on 
 the plains of the Adige. Sacre bleu! I was a drum- 
 mer-boy then, but I have not forgotten the bridge of 
 Lodi."' 
 
 Something in the man's spirit strikes a spark from 
 the Italian's eye. " Forgive me, friend of Italy. I'll 
 meet them in your place within the month," he whis- 
 pers. " But here " he is untying the man now 
 " here is a gift, not to keep your tongue silent, but be- 
 cause thou art a friend." He puts a handful of gold 
 in the old detective's hands, adding : " Drink the health 
 of Italy with that, and make your comrades the friends 
 of free Lombardy ! " And so, going to the door with 
 him, to be very sure the officer really takes departure, 
 Da Messina bows out a friend who had come in as an 
 enemy. 
 
 So the detective, who, in his way, is a philosopher, 
 strolls down the stairs into the coffee-room of the 
 Naples, muttering : " Lover of liberty ! Yes, Italian
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 12J 
 
 liberty, but not the liberty of that poor devil of an 
 apprentice he is taking to Italy to make a slave. Nom 
 de Dieu, this is a curious world ! Parbleu, but his hand 
 is liberal ! If I can do this fellow, who sings like an 
 angel, a good turn here, Sac a papier! I am at his 
 elbow." 
 
 But old Parogue would think this a more curious 
 world could he look into the parlor, from which he has 
 just emerged, and see the bound-girl wringing her 
 hands, and crying : " Why did you take this risk upon 
 your life to save me ? Here, almost at the Italian fron- 
 tier, this man may be an Austrian spy. In trying to take 
 suspicion from me, you have revealed such things that, 
 if they come to the ears of Austria, it means your 
 death ! " 
 
 " Santa Maria ! You know ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know more than you think ! I heard you 
 bargain last night with the English manufacturer of 
 arms. They are to be concealed in hay ; they are to be 
 delivered in Genoa by the I5th; they are to cross the 
 frontier near Tortone ! " 
 
 At this revelation the conspirator starts back, and 
 stammers ^ " Grand Dio, you know the secret of Mi- 
 lan ! " Then his face, that has been pale, grows red, 
 and his eyes appalling. 
 
 " Yes, but I will never betray you. I swear it ! By 
 the Mother of God, I swear it ! " she cries ; then, a curi- 
 ous intensity coming into her voice, she asks again : 
 " Why why did you take this risk for me a fugi- 
 tive?" 
 
 " Why ? " For ten seconds Da Messina hesitates ; 
 then her disheveled beauty, as she half crouches at his 
 feet, overcomes him ; his face becomes soft with ten- 
 der passion ; he mutters, hoarsely : " Why ? Diavolo, 
 because I love thee, little one ! " And, the tide of a 
 mighty emotion breaking down its floodgates, he pulls 
 her to his heart ; but almost as suddenly puts her from 
 him, and shudders : " It is an infamy to tell you this, 
 when you are helpless in my hands."
 
 128 ADRIENXE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Misericorde ! You tell me this tale of love because 
 you fear I will betray your cause ! " she gasps. 
 
 " No, no ! You shall not think me dastard enough 
 for that ! " Then, seizing her again, he looks straight 
 into her blushing face, and whispers : "I love thee, 
 little one ; I love thee ! " 
 
 And she, her eyes flaming with a new light for 
 this widow of an old husband has never loved be- 
 fore twines her soft arms about his neck, and, cling- 
 ing to him, murmurs : " Thou hast said it ! I am 
 thine, not by the papers of my bondage, but by my love 
 for thee, my ruler, yet my protector ! " 
 
 " You forgive me? " 
 
 " Yes ! Take thy right, my master ! " and she holds 
 up to him a pair of delicate, arched lips, red as sea 
 coral, and moist as sea foam, with the first passion of 
 her heart. 
 
 Then, for the first time in her life, this widow knows 
 what the kiss of a strong man means ! 
 
 It thrills her, it charms her, yet it conquers her. She 
 feels that she is no more her own, but belongs to these 
 great arms that clasp her with such latent power. She 
 knows she is to be ruled, yet also to be fondled, ca- 
 ressed, and supported ; and before her open all the de- 
 lights of a woman's first love. 
 
 The little room, with its dim lamplight and dingy 
 furniture, becomes to her paradise, for it holds this 
 handsome, dark-eyed, curly-haired fellow, whose touch 
 thrills her with a new and strange rapture, as he seats 
 himself and draws her, like a child, upon his knee, 
 where she sits, perched, dangling her little feet about 
 in air, and clinging to him as if he were the Rock of 
 Ages. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he whispers. " You pardon my ap- 
 parent harshness," and his lips offer sweet apology, as 
 he kisses the ivory shoulders until they blush red again ; 
 then remarks, determinedly : " But I swore that no 
 one should drag you from me." 
 
 " Ah ! " she murmurs, archly. " That proves you
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 1 29 
 
 love me for myself; yeu saved me because I was 
 precious to you." 
 
 " In addition, it was necessary to so arrange the af- 
 fair that no suspicion would follow you to give you 
 trouble in Italy," he remarks, in cautious tone. " When 
 there, after a little time I shall tear up thy papers of 
 indenture, and shall come to thee, an unfettered woman, 
 to ask the gift of thy life." 
 
 " You you are going to put me from you ? " she 
 falters. Her eyes fill with tears, and she pouts : " Now 
 you are unkind ! " 
 
 " Scipristi! Last night, little one, I said I would 
 hold you, and you burst into tears," he laughs. " To- 
 night I say you shall be free, and I am told I am 
 unkind again. Peste! Will nothing please thee?" 
 
 " Only that you keep me thy own forever ! " And 
 she puts up her lips that are so clinging, so enticing, 
 that, for his own sake and hers, Da Messina, after one 
 moment's rapture, holds her from him, and whispers : 
 " I have to meet some friends of Italy to-night." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, you will put new danger upon the life 
 I love ! You shall not go ! " 
 
 " I must ! " And, as if he feared the magic of her 
 arms, he carries her to her little chamber. Despite 
 caresses, he puts Estelle in, locks the door upon her, 
 and, standing in the parlor, tosses the key over the 
 transom to her, and says : " Thy safety, little one, from 
 an infamous padrone ! " 
 
 But she, unlocking the door, steps out, and holds the 
 key tremblingly to him, whispering, a great faith in her 
 eyes : " Keep it. I trust thee ! Have I not been un- 
 der thy hand, helpless, for six days and nights ? Why 
 should I believe less in the honor of the man I love 
 than in the honor of the man I feared ? " 
 
 Putting the key to his lips, he whispers : " Mia caris- 
 sima alma, I thank thee ! " then salutes her hand with 
 the stately grace of an old-time cavalier, and so leaves 
 the apartment.
 
 BOOK III 
 THE TOUCH OF LOVB 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE HAND OF BOLZA. 
 
 They are to take breakfast together in the little par- 
 lor of their suite at the Naples, for Da Messina thinks 
 it prudent that his apprentice be not seen in public this 
 morning. Estelle's appearance would be too joyous 
 for the beaten serf that some in this hotel may think 
 her, either from the babbling of the old officer de 
 surete, or from her plaintive cries to dupe that mou- 
 chard. 
 
 So, the waiter, having placed the meal upon the 
 table and disappeared, and the door being locked, Car- 
 lo's sweetheart flutters out to him, and, with a de- 
 mure courtesy, whispers: "Good morning, mio pa- 
 drone!" then tenders two sweet lips for his pleasure, 
 as he sees before him what would be a fairy, did not 
 her radiant face have traces of earth's grandest passion. 
 
 Wishing to charm the eye she loves, Estelle is in a 
 plain, white negligee, a relic of the convent. Fearful 
 of bringing suspicion upon her Italian patriot, for it 
 is not her own safety of which she now thinks most, 
 his apprentice has made the cambric robe de chambre 
 as juvenile as her previous frocks. Its very childish- 
 ness gives it a naive abandon that adds to its charm. 
 Its soft veils reveal snowy neck and rounded arms. 
 Fastened only at the waist by a broad, white ribbon, 
 its skirt floats off on either side bouffantly, after the 
 fashion of that day, to permit a shorter petticoat, to
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 13! 
 
 display exquisite limbs, very tightly hosed in silk, and 
 slippered most attractively in bronze. 
 
 " Now," she says, archly, after she has received a 
 good-morning kiss, " thou hast done so much for me, 
 let me wait upon thee. 'Tis a bound-girl's duty." 
 
 But he, with strong arms, putting her in a chair, 
 insists upon attending to her wants. He says defer- 
 entially : " In strict privacy, Mademoiselle, you must 
 let me apologize by my courtesy for the harshness 
 which I may be compelled to assume toward you be- 
 fore the public eye." 
 
 "I have been thinking, dear one," she whispers, " of 
 my duty to thee in the strange relations that have come 
 upon us. As we near the rule of Austria, the shadow 
 which is rising from me is deepening over thy head 
 the head I love. The safety of your life is partly in 
 my hands. No severity from you, to prove to your 
 tyrants that I am the apprentice you went to France 
 to gain, shall make me do aught but love you more, 
 because it will protect the life I love. Treat me as 
 thy bound-girl until Italy is free." 
 
 " And then," he whispers, taking her tenderly in his 
 arms, " then I shall give you a happier title." 
 
 " Yes, but until that time " she looks archly at 
 him " dost think I'll make a pretty child ? " And, 
 breakfast being over, she brings him the Italian gram- 
 mar, and prays : " Teach me the language that I love, 
 because it is the language of my lover." 
 
 " Sapristi! It is, mia cam, anima mia, bell' alma, mia 
 carissima innamorata!" He has her in his arms. "Yes, 
 'tis the language of music, of art, of love ! Let's hear 
 thy recitation." 
 
 " Yes, mio caro" She utters the Italian love term 
 diffidently. " But please don't stand me in front of 
 you ! I I seem so far from you ! " 
 
 After this suggestion, she is taken upon his knee, and, 
 reciting her lesson in Italian very well, she pleads: 
 " For it, I should have reward ! " and gets it ! 
 
 Then, to his accompaniment, there being a piano in
 
 132 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 the room, she sings the exercises she has practiced-, and 
 Pergolese knows he is listening to a woman who will 
 become, in time, one of the famous artistes of this 
 earth, for the only thing it lacked, a soul, has come 
 into the timbre of her silver voice, to make it fervid 
 with awakened love, that passion without which tech- 
 nique is trivial, effort is fruitless, and song is dead. 
 
 " How thy beautiful strains linger in my ear ! " he 
 whispers, patting her shoulder. " Some day, dear one, 
 thou wilt make others cry, as thou dost me. And 
 now ! " He gives her a few more exercises, and hums 
 to her some appoggiaturas, directing : " Sing these 
 over many times. 'Twill make the time fly, for I 
 have many important things to arrange in this town." 
 
 "Yes, yes! I know," she sighs. 
 
 " Besides, I must engage our passage upon Friday's 
 boat for Genoa." 
 
 At this, a sudden joy ripples Estelle's face. " Fri- 
 day's boat ! " she cries. " And this is but Wednes- 
 day, in the early morning! Then there is time for 
 me to get some better frocks than these two poor, 
 cheap things La Brisco bought. They were good 
 enough for thy bound-girl, but not for thy betrothed." 
 Then she pleads : " Trust me ; the new ones shall keep 
 me just as juvenile as these. Please, mio padrone!" 
 and begs him with all her woman's heart to give her 
 a chance to look well in the eyes of him she loves. 
 
 A little cajolery procures the boon; Da Messina is 
 disposed to grant her every indulgence compatible with 
 their situation. So they stroll off together to modistes' 
 and various other shops for feminine adornment. 
 
 Coming back from these, in their little parlor she 
 puts her arms about his neck, and falters : " Fancy, 
 if they had not called me a criminal, I would not now be 
 in thy arms ! " 
 
 " Sh h ! Not a word ! Forget your past ! " he 
 commands, almost sternly, placing his finger upon her 
 lips, and so leaves the room. 
 
 And she, looking after him, thinks : " O glorious
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 133 
 
 change ! To-day all is bright ; yesterday all was gloom, 
 when I feared O Heaven, I fear it still ! If these 
 French officials should drag me from my Carlo ! But 
 the people of the hotel must know the apprentice is 
 at work." 
 
 Running nervously to the piano, she commences to 
 ripple out the brilliant exercises that have been set for 
 her. Her voice is so happy that it astounds an Italian 
 lady, of scarce twenty-four years of age, yet looking 
 hardly twenty-two, very beautiful, and fashionably 
 gowned, and of distinguished manner, who cautiously 
 approaches the door of the little apartment. 
 
 This lady, as she listens, thinks : " 'Tis strange this 
 beaten serf of an Italian padrone has a voice so 
 buoyant." 
 
 But, knocking at the door, and hearing " Entre!" 
 she steps into the parlor, and sees a graceful girl, 
 garbed as a child, spring up from the piano in aston- 
 ishment at this unexpected intrusion. To Estelle this 
 visitor says, pleasantly : " Excuse me, little one, I am 
 the Contessa di Vilermo. Last night, poor child, I 
 heard your sobs when you were chastised. I have 
 come to offer my consolation, also my aid, against the 
 severity of this Pergolese, who, though he is a grand 
 singer, is to thee a great brute." 
 
 The answer she receives astounds this lady of many 
 intrigues, much knowledge of the world, and an acute- 
 ness born of the devil and the instructions of il Conte 
 Bolza, the astute head of the Austrian police in Lom- 
 bardy. 
 
 " Madame," says Estelle, blushing with humiliation, 
 " my padrone does his duty by me, and is generally 
 quite good to me, if I am good. But I trust you will 
 not again bring his displeasure upon me, for I have 
 
 a long lesson and many exercises to practice. I " 
 
 She glances at the door. 
 
 ''' Then continue your exercises before me," purrs the 
 lady, sweetly. " I heard your lovely voice from the 
 corridor. Let me remain and enjoy some more of it,"
 
 134 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS, 
 
 and, apparently not thinking the assent of a tJotin'd-girl 
 necessary, she sinks, languidly, into an easy-chair, and 
 in pleasant entreaty urges : " Please go on ! t)on't 
 let me interrupt you. I love music as well as you. 
 The little that I heard outside causes me to think thou 
 hast a voice of great future. Perchance his ambition 
 for thy success makes Pergolese harsh to thee." 
 
 " Oh, he is goodness itself ! " cries the girl ; then, as 
 if in contradiction to her words, murmurs : " When 
 I do my lessons well." 
 
 " Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let me disturb you, 
 child! Go on and sing for me, and I will tell you 
 whether I think you will become a diva" 
 
 So, embarrassed by a kindness she scarce knows how 
 to repulse, and thinking singing will, perhaps, keep her 
 tongue from saying things best left unuttered, Estelle, 
 who has gained confidence from the praise of a man 
 she knows is a supreme judge of music, inspired by 
 happiness, lifts up her voice, and sings her exercises and 
 appoggiaturas. 
 
 As she closes, she finds two shapely arms clasped 
 about her, and a very spirituelle face, with bright blue 
 eyes, and eyebrows penciled like Diana's bow, looking 
 over her shoulder, while two cunning lips whisper to 
 her pretty ear the most pleasant words to which an 
 aspirant for the stage can listen : " Darling, you will 
 some day be famous ! " 
 
 " Oh, you think so ! " cries the girl, in ecstasy. " It 
 is my hope in life that some day I shall sing with him. 
 
 When he sings, I feel " Estelle checks herself, but 
 
 her eyes tell a curious tale to this lady of astute mind, 
 as she inspects the blushing face. 
 
 " You only need greater confidence ; that will come by 
 work. Under Pergolese's instructions, you will soon 
 gain technique. Bravo, canary bird! I expect some 
 day to throw my bouquet at thy feet at La Sea la, or 
 San Carlo, or perhaps even Des Italiennes, Paris," 
 observes her critic, artfully making a step toward the 
 trust of Estelle by that subtle influence that has ruined
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 135 
 
 more men and women than any other ruse since Eve 
 gave Adam the apple flattery. 
 
 This patting on the back ; this crafty saying, " You 
 are great " ; this worship dearest of all things in this 
 world to actress and prima donna makes the young 
 songstress look with cordial eyes upon her visitor. 
 
 " You you think I will stand upon the boards with 
 him ? " she gasps. 
 
 " Pardi! Why not, in a little time? Pergolese is 
 engaged at La Scala; why should you not warble 
 ' Lucia ' to his ' Edgardo ' ? You'd sing the music of 
 the mad scene as well as Sophie Olinska, who, it is 
 said, owes half of her success to your maestro 's sug- 
 gestions." 
 
 " This O Olinska ! " stammers Estelle, her eyes 
 bright with both curiosity and jealousy. She remem- 
 bers Radetzky's words " epris with the greatest tenor 
 in Italy." These strike her heart; but the light bab- 
 bling of this lady, who seems to be in confidential mood, 
 now tortures her. 
 
 " Yes, have you not heard of Pergolese's amour with 
 Olinska? Two years ago 'twas the chatter of Milan 
 and Venice. But thou art too much of a child to 
 understand such things. Good-by ! If you have need 
 of friend, call upon Eugenia di Vilermo." 
 
 With the highest art, this lady of intrigue does not 
 linger, after making her effect, and, with a kiss that, 
 being permitted, tells her she has made the first step 
 toward intimacy, she takes her leave of Estelle. 
 
 In her own pretty parlor, but a few rooms away, 
 Eugenia laughs : " This bound-girl loves her maestro. 
 She'll get very close to this conspirator's state secrets, 
 and I'll soon get very close to la petite Estelle. Be- 
 sides, there was a jealous flash in her eyes. I'll be in 
 the devil's luck if I can't report to the Conte Bolza 
 what is the real business which has brought to France 
 this Italian, who sings, but still conspires against the 
 powers that be." 
 
 Then her face suddenly grows pallid. She sighs a
 
 136 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 curious plaint: " The powers that be! I must report; 
 this is my last chance ! That accursed Signor Benuchio 
 keeps one eye upon Italian conspirators, the other al- 
 ways upon me ! " She wrings her delicate fingers, and 
 says, resolutely : " Yes, I must go back ; but I shall 
 bring a present with me that will make Bolza pass a 
 sponge over the name of Eugenia di Vilermo upon his 
 delinquent slate. This bound-girl, who loves her stern 
 padrone, shall play my cards for me. She has a jeal- 
 ous heart." 
 
 The subtle Italian is right. In Da Messina's par- 
 lor the flash is still in Estelle^s eyes. She has for- 
 gotten her music, and is clenching her hands, and 
 muttering in broken voice : " Pergolese's amour with 
 Olinska two years ago the babble of Milan and 
 Venice ! " then sobs, in feminine unreason : " / never 
 loved before ! " 
 
 Yet, a moment after, she comforts herself with : 
 " But two years ago he did not know that I existed," 
 and so, with better heart, begins again her vocal ex- 
 ercises. Just here, chancing to glance at her padrone's 
 watch, that he has left, as before, to limit her exertions 
 to a single continuous hour, her eyes light up. 
 
 Upon the inside of its heavy, golden cover is en- 
 graved : " Presented to Pergolese by Venezia." The 
 triumph of the man she loves is her triumph ! This 
 magnificent timepiece is a present from a great Ital- 
 ian city. 
 
 Then, led by the devil, she searches for more inscrip- 
 tions to the honor of Pergolese. In doing this, her 
 agile fingers press the reverse side of the watch. Joy 
 changes to misery, for the case, flying open, discloses a 
 miniature of ivory, from out which a beautiful woman 
 is gazing at her. She knows that this is her rival's 
 portrait. The blue eyes tell of Hungary ; the white 
 robe of a Druid priestess and crown of mistletoe de- 
 note a prima donna in the character of " Norma." 
 She glances at the passionate, yet lovely, face. She 
 inspects the almost perfect symmetry of neck, arms,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 137 
 
 and bust, that spring in snowy beauty from their light 
 draping, and murmurs : " Too beautiful for me to fight 
 against! In Milan, when he again sees her, he will 
 forget his bound-girl ! " Tears run down her delicate 
 cheeks, and the delicate but passionate mouth whimpers. 
 
 A widow in her first love is generally a jealous 
 fiancee, and, though Estelle tries to wipe away her tears, 
 red eyes greet Da Messina's return. 
 
 His quick glance perceives that she whom he left a 
 rosebud has now become a lily. 
 
 " What has come to you, my own ? " he questions, 
 anxiously, closing the door. 
 
 But she shakes her head, dreading to tell him of 
 the visit she had received, for then she will be com- 
 pelled to explain the cause of her tears. 
 
 " Has it aught to do with thy safety ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "With mine?" 
 
 " No. Only, I I am unhappy." Tears are still in 
 the lovely eyes. 
 
 " Ah, thou hast been lonely, little one ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then you must tell me." His tone is one she dares 
 not disobey. She is opening her mouth to give him 
 word of the contessa's visit ; she is blushing with shame 
 at the thought that she must confess that she is jeal- 
 ous of this man's love for another, when, by unhappy 
 chance, the open watch meets his eye. 
 
 " Diavolo ! Was it this? " he asks, shrugging his 
 shoulders and pointing to the beautiful miniature. 
 
 "Y-e-s." 
 
 "Oho! Thou hast been jealous of me?" A tinge 
 of triumph is on his face. 
 
 " Yes. Thou didst not tell me thou hadst loved 
 before." 
 
 " Of course I did not, dear one ! Why should I tor- 
 ture thy tender heart by the hundred past amourettes 
 of a young tenor? I did not know there was such a 
 charming, little lady in the world as thee until seven
 
 138 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 days ago ah, what a wondrous week! All that I 
 promise you is my love from now eternal ! Didst I 
 reproach thee because thou once hadst a husband? 1 
 only say to thee, thou art the first woman 1 ever asked 
 to be my wife. Is not that proof enough I love thee? " 
 
 " Yes, but / wedded once, and did not love," she 
 answers, archly, and is pleased to see that mention of 
 former husband shocks Pergolese strongly. 
 
 He replies, hoarsely : " Don't dare to speak to me 
 of that man again ! He is an agony to me ! Forget 
 him ! Forget thy past ! " 
 
 The passion of her answer astounds him. " I have 
 no past," she whispers, putting her arms about his 
 neck ; " I have lived only since I loved ! La Baronne 
 de Portalis is a myth. I am only thy bound-girl, Es- 
 telle Gabrielle Chartres. You are my master, stern 
 or kind ; as pleases you, so pleases me." 
 
 " Then let's understand each other at once and for- 
 ever. This woman " he pulls the beautiful miniature 
 out of the watchcase and tosses it into the fire " is 
 naught to me; thy dead husband is naught to you. 
 See that no other man save me enjoys the radiance of 
 your eyes, the sweetness of your lips." 
 
 His tone is so dominant, he holds her by her two 
 delicate shoulders so potently, that she hangs her 
 head, though Da Messina's jealousy makes Estelle won- 
 drously content. A moment after, she becomes bright, 
 laughing, joyous. 
 
 " Now that we are happy, little one," he laughs, 
 " come with me to the dining-room. There we will 
 have an early dinner ; then do the town, and this even- 
 ing I will take you with me to the theater." 
 
 " Delightful ! " she prattles. " Just wait until I am 
 ready for promenade ! " She trips away with joyous 
 feet ; but, reaching her little chamber, she halts at its 
 portal, flashes her eyes at a piece of half-burnt ivory in 
 the stove, and, as she runs away, throws him a most 
 enthusiastic kiss. 
 
 "Santa Maria!" he mutters, noting Estelle's glance.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 139 
 
 " How old intrigues that were pleasing in their time pall 
 on man's palate when he really loves ! Per Baccho, her 
 bright face is worth all the Olinskas on this earth ! " 
 For Da Messina, like most other tenors, has had many 
 passing amours; but, curiously, is now enduring his 
 grand passion. 
 
 An hour after this, the loungers at the Hotel de 
 Naples, who have eyes for celebrities, see the great 
 Italian tenor, accompanied by a very bright-faced girl, 
 in childish dress, stroll out upon the street. One or 
 two of these, as he passes, remove their hats, and whis- 
 per : " For Italian art, grand Signore ! " in their pleas- 
 ant, Tuscan style. 
 
 This homage to the man of her heart gives rapture to 
 Estelle. Her bright eyes now notice that people on 
 the street turn and gaze after her maestro 's handsome 
 figure ; for this Mediterranean town has many in it who 
 have heard Pergolese sing at the great Italian opera 
 houses, and remember, with pleasure, his dramatic art, 
 the exquisite phrasing of his melodies, the noble pas- 
 sion of his glorious voice. 
 
 So it comes to pass that this day becomes an ecstasy 
 to Estelle. After rambling about the shipping of the 
 old port, they jaunt on a small, puffing steamboat to 
 the Pharo fort. From here they stroll toward the 
 Prado, the great promenade of Marseilles, and, engag- 
 ing an open barouche, the weather being extremely 
 fine, have a very pleasant excursion to the Mediter- 
 ranean, where, looking over the blue waters of the sea, 
 Estelle, in modest diffidence, whispers : " Carlo mio ! " 
 
 At this, as reward for her effort in amorous Italian, 
 her little hand is caressed under the carriage robe. 
 
 So, returning to the Naples, her face is radiant with 
 the light of love. In the early evening they drive to 
 the old theater, in the little cross street, near the Rue 
 Mazagran, where, nestling almost behind her padrone, 
 in the privacy of a loge, she looks upon that masterpiece 
 of the French stage which the English call " The 
 Marble Heart."
 
 140 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 As the curtain falls on its wondrous prologue in old 
 Athens, tears are in her eyes at the despair of the sculp- 
 tor, flaunted by the statues to whom his love had given 
 life. 
 
 " You like it, petite? " asks her maestro, during the 
 entre-acte. 
 
 " O oh ! How I hate the cold-blooded statues ! " 
 she whispers so savagely that Da Messina laughs. 
 
 Then, the curtain going up again, noting her illu- 
 mined face, he remarks : " You have the dramatic in- 
 stinct." For in Estelle's charming features are re- 
 flected each varying emotion of this exquisite drama. 
 
 Gazing upon the stage, Da Messina's betrothed can 
 not help thinking that she may be the " Marie," and 
 Olinska the " Marco," of " The Marble Heart " ; while 
 this being, in whose strong hand her little one is 
 nestled, may be oh, horrors ! the fickle " Raphael," 
 though a flash of fire in her veins tells her that she 
 would never be a weeping thing like the crushed maiden 
 of the play, but would give Olinska a grand battle for 
 her lover. 
 
 Going home in the carriage, another rapture comes 
 to her. Da Messina takes her in his arms, and patting 
 her cheek approvingly, whispers : " You wept at the 
 play! Your nation has many great actors; see that 
 they inspire you ! In opera, a woman who only sings 
 is but half an artiste." 
 
 His caresses and his praise make her so joyous, that, 
 after they have arrived at the hotel, as she runs up the 
 stairs by his side to their apartment, the lights in the 
 corridor being low, and the place retired, in the care- 
 lessness of happiness she cries, in enthusiastic voice: 
 " Carlo mio, hasn't this been a glorious day ! " 
 
 Da Messina's warning clutch upon her arm checks 
 Estelle's outward exultation ; but her words have 
 reached a lady and a gentleman, who, from a darkened 
 room, with door a very little open, have waited for the 
 coming of the padrone and his apprentice. 
 
 As, with a bang, the door of Pergolese's parlor closes,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 14! 
 
 the portal of La Contessa di Vilermo's boudoir is also 
 very cautiously shut, and its occupants, turning up th<< 
 lights, begin a very curious conversation in low and 
 cautious voices. 
 
 " Ghieu ! " grins a swarthy browed, suave-speaking 
 gentleman, in shining boots and elaborate evening dress- 
 " Your beaten bound-girl seems not only very merry, 
 but very intimate with her tyrant." 
 
 "That's what I can't make out, Signor Benuchio," 
 answers la contessa. " Her cries came to me quite 
 plainly, when mademoiselle was chastised last night." 
 
 " Corpo di Borgia ! She loves the hand that smites 
 her ! I have known such things before, but I warn you 
 for your own safety, mia cara Eugenia," whispers the 
 man ; " you must make a grand coup with this girl, 
 so as to obtain the true knowledge why this tenor, 
 who is known to be hand-in-glove with Cesaresco, 
 Manin, Manara, and other so-called Italian patriots, 
 has visited France. Did not I tell you that his pass- 
 port read via Marseilles; that we were sure to meet 
 him here? Discover if Da Messina came to this 
 country to buy arms; if so, the routes by which they 
 will be introduced into Lombardy. Remember, you 
 failed the last time in Turin, because you were per- 
 verse and would not give your beauty to the Sardinian 
 marquis. No scruples of any kind must mar this, thy 
 last, effort, for Bolza will never pardon a second mis- 
 take. If you don't succeed now, his iron hand will be 
 upon you. You know his grip is not a pleasant one." 
 
 At this suggestion, the lady shudders. 
 
 " By the bye," he continues ; " I have a letter from 
 him as to you. Here is your ticket. You will journey 
 on the same boat with Pergolese to Genoa. You will 
 contrive I know your fascinating ways to become 
 one of his party. I shall keep my eye upon you here. 
 At Genoa, you will report to Donetto, who will have 
 you under his charge, until you cross the Lombardian 
 frontier. There, of course, you will be safe again in 
 the hands of your dear friend Bolza, who, to tell the
 
 142 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 truth, has some slight fears that you may not wish, 
 though you gave him your oath, to return to Milan. So 
 I have instructions from him, in case you make any 
 trouble, to speak to the French police, and you will be 
 arrested at once for several commercial offenses, and 
 returned to Austrian justice." 
 
 " Ah, but the French government is not now friendly 
 to the Austrian ! " she retorts, a flash of hope lighting 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Peste, yes! As a political criminal, you would be 
 safe, mia bella; but as a commercial criminal, in this 
 mart of trade, where the judge himself would doubtless 
 be some banker's relative, a forged bill of exchange is 
 very awful. You would be returned, my dear lady, to 
 Austrian justice in a jiffy !" sneers Benuchio. Then, his 
 face growing more sinister, he observes : " Besides, your 
 husband, the chevalier d' Industrie, who called himself 
 ' count/ when he made you his widow, by immuring 
 himself in the galleys for life, also left you a little son 
 Georgio by name, I think " 
 
 " Gran Dio ! " The woman is looking into his cold 
 face with desperate eyes. 
 
 But he continues, contemplatively : " Now scarce two 
 years old, at present in the school of Santo Patricio, 
 Trieste. If you hope ever to see the urchin again, you 
 must obey Bolza ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know ! " she stammers, pressing her 
 face with clasped hands, as if to shield from her eyes 
 some cruel picture ; then wiping them, as if they were 
 moist with tears, though they are dry and burning. 
 
 " What a fatal weapon is a child, when directed at a 
 mother's heart! " he remarks, half laughingly. 
 
 But she, not heeding him, raises her head, and says, 
 brokenly : " Yes, I know I must do Bolza's bidding ; s 
 then suddenly shudders : " How merciless he is ! " 
 
 " To the enemies of his emperor, to the unfaithful 
 yes! But I think you can hardly complain of us," re- 
 turns the man. " Do we not dress you up to your puta- 
 tive rank?" He glances at the spirituellc beauty of
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTAL1S. 143 
 
 the woman, whose very handsome neck, shoulders, and 
 arms are displayed by a lovely evening robe, contrived 
 quite deftly by a French modiste. " Do I not each 
 day give you money sufficient for your wants as con- 
 tessa, but not enough to run away with ? In addition, 
 guessing that Da Messina must return to Italy by Mar- 
 seilles, I have procured this letter of introduction for 
 you to the tenor. It is written by Mateo, the impresario 
 of the San Carlo, who is not as good an Italian as 
 Pergolese thinks him. It states that la Contessa di 
 Vilermo prays escort to Lombardy, through which 
 province she journeys, having an uncle living at 
 Trieste. This frank mention of a very slight con- 
 nection with his enemies, though it will place Per- 
 golese on his guard, will also eliminate other more 
 dangerous suspicions. But it is the girl from whom 
 you must extract the knowledge that we wish. We 
 have tried Pergolese before. He is adamant. There- 
 fore, having your instructions, proceed to fulfill them, 
 Madame! Beware how you fail the second time, my 
 dear Eugenia ! " The latent menace in his soft voice 
 makes his lovely auditor tremble from the tips of her 
 slight fingers to the toes of her dainty feet, as he con- 
 tinues : " If to succeed you have to give your soul 
 give it! It were better than that you endured the ven- 
 geance pf Bolza ! " 
 
 To this, she replying nothing, he adds : " Now, 
 having spurred you, my esteemed lady, to great ex- 
 ertions for your own good, Benuchio takes his leave, 
 and wishes you bon -voyage ! " He kisses the con- 
 tessa's delicate hands twice effusively, and bows him- 
 self out. 
 
 Alone, Eugenia gazes about with hopeless eyes. A 
 despair is upon her face ; with twitching lips, she sighs 
 helplessly: "Bolza he has his hand everywhere!" 
 Then, glancing at the letter of introduction to Pergo- 
 lese, she starts, like a steed under the spur, and studies 
 it, nervously, so that she may act in accord with its
 
 144 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 words, and moans : " I will not fail, I can not fail 1 
 dare not fail! For Bolza's heel is on my neck, and he 
 is merciless ! " * 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " LAST NIGHT YOU DID NOT THINK ME A CHILD ! " 
 
 The next day la Contessa di Vilermo sends, accom- 
 panied by her card, the letter of introduction to il Cava- 
 liere da Messina. It is from Giovanni Mateo, the im- 
 presario of the great opera house of Naples, a gentle- 
 man who Carlo believes to be not only his true friend, 
 but also an ardent lover of Italian liberty. 
 
 Addressed to him from Pau, that popular watering- 
 place of the French Pyrenees, it states that la contessa 
 is journeying from this resort, where she has spent the 
 early months of winter, to Trieste, via Genoa, Milan, 
 and Venice. Pursuit for the San Carlo of an elusive 
 prima donna, who was also spending the winter at Pau, 
 had brought Mateo to the Pyrenees, where he has en- 
 countered la Contessa di Vilermo, a valued friend. 
 
 Knowing that this lady will be without escort 
 through a part of Italy, almost in the throes of revo- 
 lution, and having heard from Pergolese himself that 
 he would some time in the early spring be returning to 
 Milan, via Marseilles, Mateo has taken the liberty of 
 giving this letter to la contessa, in the hope that, should 
 she meet him, she may obtain Da Messina's protection 
 as far as Milan, from which point the country will per- 
 haps be less disturbed by political agitation. 
 
 The letter brings no suspicion to Carlo's mind, but 
 
 *This method of using- the fears of his agents to compel them to any infamy 
 to pain the information he desired, was a favorite method of Bolza, the head 
 of 'he Lombardian police in 1848, thousrh not original, it having been bor- 
 rowed from FoucW, the minister of police of the First Napoleon, who. to his 
 disgrace, organized in nearly every capital of Europe his celebrated " Hautt 
 Police," Many a beautiful Prussian woman, many a beautiful Italian 
 woman, suffered because she would not betray the secrets of her people. ED.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 145 
 
 with it comes to him, after calling on Signora di Vi- 
 lermo, a problem. Shall he offer the escort that is 
 asked to Milan, via Genoa ? 
 
 Every throb of his lover's heart cries out that it will 
 destroy the sweet intimacy that has grown up between 
 him and his sweetheart. But of this intimacy he knows 
 the insidious danger. 
 
 When he was only padrone, and Estelle his bound- 
 girl, it had, perhaps, been barbarous, yet surely inno- 
 cent. But now, when, each evening, as his betrothed 
 says adieu to leave him for her lonely chamber, her 
 arms seem to cling closer and closer about him, as if 
 she could not bear to say " Good night ! " he feels the 
 insidious temptation, even if she does not. 
 
 " Some time love will overcome me," he reflects, 
 " and then God forgive me I am dishonored ! She 
 is so helpless in my hands ! Though she is a widow, 
 she is as innocent as a child." 
 
 Therefore, not altogether with dissent, Da Messina 
 considers the addition of a chaperone to their party. 
 
 Though it will deprive him of a companionship which 
 is the delight of his soul, it will also be a barrier for his 
 sweetheart against what he dreads now his over- 
 whelming desire. 
 
 So, this evening, he mentions the matter to Estelle, 
 and certain incidents which occur in connection with it 
 show him how light a veil floats betwixt them and the 
 forgetfulness of everything in this world save love. 
 
 They have come in from the theater again, where he 
 had taken her to see Lemerciere's " Agamemnon," 
 thinking it best to give Estelle every opportunity to 
 study the methods of the stage. Taking this oppor- 
 tunity, he tells his sweetheart that he intends to add an- 
 other to their party as far as Milan. " I have already 
 seen the lady," he observes. 
 
 " What lady ? " she gasps, in astonished voice. 
 
 " One who brought a letter of introduction from 
 my friend Mateo, the great impresario, under whose 
 management, perchance, some day you may warble.
 
 146 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 This lady is compelled to go to Milan, and will jour- 
 ney with us to that city. Don't pout so viciously ! " 
 he laughs. " You have already seen her. She tells me 
 that she heard your voice in that corridor one day, and, 
 being charmed by its beauty, took the liberty of asking 
 to hear more of it. She thinks that some day yon will 
 become a great artiste." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! La Contessa di Vilermo ! I have seen 
 her before," replies Estelle. 
 
 " And never told me of it ! " returns her padrone. 
 " It is well, for my happiness, that the Contessa di Vi- 
 lermo is not a gentleman." 
 
 But his ward does not answer this. She will not 
 confess to a jealousy which she knows her lover will 
 condemn, and yet one which still lingers in her heart. 
 
 But suddenly all else, save that she will be separated 
 by the presence of another from tete-a-tete with the 
 man she loves, overcomes her. She puts her arms 
 about him, and sobs : " O Carlo, don't let her come ! 
 She will be forever between us! We shall never be 
 alone. Before this woman, I shall no more receive the 
 caresses that have made these two days to me a para- 
 dise." Then her eyes blaze up in reproach, and she 
 queries, falteringly : " Thou hast already become tired 
 of me?" 
 
 " Gran Dio, no ! Never accuse me of that ! " His 
 face, for a moment stern, grows soft with passion; he 
 murmurs : " Each kiss from your lips has made me 
 long for a thousand more, bell' idolo! Besides, I wish 
 no careless tongues and there are many in Italy to 
 speak slightingly of one who, by the blessing of God, 
 soon shall be honored, not as my mistress, but as my 
 wife." 
 
 At the word, her arms close round him, as he rea- 
 sons with her, showing her that their hearts are now 
 too close together for anything to come between them. 
 And she answering nothing, he goes away to complete 
 certain business arrangements for arms and supplies of 
 ammunition, for in Marseilles, as well as in Lyons, Da
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 147 
 
 Messina, taking his life in his hand, is still working for 
 Italy. 
 
 Receiving Estelle's good-night kiss, her maestro 
 thinks the matter is settled; but does not remember 
 that one argument seldom suffices with a woman. 
 
 Returning from his secret interview with certain 
 agents of English manufacturers, Carlo arrives at the 
 Hotel de Naples as the clock strikes two. In the dark 
 hallway, a man steps beside him, and, recognizing 
 Jacques Parogue, Pergolese's face grows ashen. An 
 awful fear that his sweetheart may yet be torn from him 
 by French justice seems to make his heart stop beating. 
 
 " I mean you no harm, Monsieur," says Parogue re- 
 spectfully, noticing the other start. Then he whispers : 
 " I have a warning that may be of value to you. I 
 thought I would do something for the money you 
 squandered on me. It is better that I speak it in your 
 ear." 
 
 " Yes, in my rooms," answers Da Messina, leading 
 the way to his apartments. 
 
 He has scarce turned up the light in his parlor, and 
 Jacques Parogue has just opened his mouth to give 
 him some very interesting information, when to them 
 floats the sound of muffled grief from the neighboring 
 chamber. 
 
 " Estelle, what is the matter? " asks Pergolese, anx- 
 iously, as he steps toward her door. 
 
 "She is crying!" growls the old mouchard, sav- 
 agely, remembering the red shoulders he had seen and 
 the plaints he had heard two evenings before. " You 
 are too severe with your apprentice, Italian padrone. I 
 care not to hear the sound of her suffering. To-mor- 
 row I will speak to you," and so goes away, and never 
 comes back. 
 
 For, coming down the stairs, Parogue mutters : 
 " Curses upon this Italian brute ! He has been beating 
 that poor girl again. To the devil with such apostles 
 of liberty ! He can save his own dastard bones, if he 
 can." And therefore leaves unuttered words that would
 
 148 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 have forever prevented la Contessa di Vilermo from 
 receiving escort from Da Messina. 
 
 But had the old gendarme taken the trouble to look 
 at the face of this brutal Italian, he would have seen 
 such anxiety in it that it might have given him other 
 judgment. Da Messina is saying, lovingly : " Estelle, 
 mia anima, speak to me ! " There is no answer, though 
 the sobbing ceases. '' Estelle ! " he cries, sharply, for 
 he half guesses the cause of the trouble, and the tears 
 even of the women they love are jnostly unpleasant to 
 men. 
 
 "Yes, sir!" 
 
 "Are you ill?" 
 
 " No, I I am unhappy." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Nothing ! Everything ! You cut me off from lov- 
 ing you! You placed another woman " 
 
 But her voice stops here, for Da Messina breaks in, 
 decisively : " To-morrow la contessa sails with us to 
 Genoa ! I have reasoned the matter to you as a woman ; 
 now I tell you this as a child. Harken to my words! 
 Since you are my rebellious bound-girl, I shall no more 
 be your lover only your padrone until I have given 
 you your liberty. As soon as I dare do that, I shall 
 come to you. Then, pardi, you, little one, may be the 
 tyrant to thy Carlo ! " 
 
 He turns almost angrily toward his door, for he is 
 annoyed that uncalled-for tears have deprived him of 
 the revelation of Parogue. Yet it is with slow, sad 
 steps. He remembers it is the first discord that has 
 come between them since their lips met. 
 
 But another has a word to say to this ! Just as Da 
 Messina reaches the entrance of his chamber, Estelle's 
 door bursts open, and a white-robed figure, with arms 
 gleaming like ivory, and nude, dimpled feet thrust into 
 slippers, one of which flies off as she crosses the apart- 
 ment, runs to him, and, clasping' him round the waist 
 from behind, falls at his feet, and with tears, piteous
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 149 
 
 entreaties, and loving words, cries out : " Gran Dio, 
 how cruel you are to me ! " 
 
 " Cruel to thee?" His arms are about her; she is 
 seated in his lap, and he is soothing her with tender 
 caresses, which, perchance, are made more fervid by 
 the extreme beauty and careless abandon of the peni- 
 tent, who, in the alluring dishabille of night, nestles so 
 close to him. 
 
 " I I went to bed," she sobs, " but could not sleep ! 
 I suffered " 
 
 " Suffered ! Because of la contessa, to whom I have 
 said scarce three dozen words ? " 
 
 " Not for her; but because she will come between me 
 and your love. I I shall be alone, as I was before you 
 made my life glorious by the first love, the last love, I 
 shall ever know. Ah, ingrate, I will show you what 
 you lose! Is not this kiss pleasant? Does not this 
 caress give thee rapture ? " And she struggles to gain 
 her will by very helplessness ; her dainty arms cling 
 to him, her delicate bosom beats against 'his heart like 
 the fluttering of a bird. 
 
 Suddenly her eyes grow horrified. The hoarse voice 
 of a man fighting against himself speaks to her : " I 
 reasoned with you as a woman; you answer me as a 
 child as such I treat thee! Go to thy chamber! If 
 thou art not obedient to-morrow, you shall learn that 
 thy padrone has a stern hand, Mademoiselle Rebel." 
 
 He puts her from him; her eyes droop before his 
 almost savage glance. 
 
 " Yes ! I I please let me get my slipper on ? " 
 she sobs, and gropes for it with half-blinded eyes. 
 
 " Now make me courtesy and retire ! " 
 
 " Yes, mio mio padrone." Draping the short robe 
 de nuit about her, she tremblingly makes schoolgirl 
 obeisance. As she half sinks before him, the exquisite 
 contours of her figure, outlined severely by the clinging, 
 semi-diaphanous muslin, make him start with a sup- 
 pressed exclamation, part almost of surprise, part of 
 rapture.
 
 150 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 The pathetic reproach in her sweet eyes cries to his 
 heart. In another instant his love will overcome him. 
 
 Then, enraged with himself, he seizes her delicate 
 shoulder, and the sweet being that tempts him makes 
 hurried exit to her chamber. There is a sudden click 
 of bolt. He tosses the key over the transom to her, and 
 commands : " Thou art a prisoner ! Don't dare un- 
 lock that door until to-morrow morning ; then see that 
 you come to me obedient ! " 
 
 With this, despite some piteous sighs that reach him 
 faintly, Da Messina leaves the parlor, and paces the 
 corridor, muttering to himself : " God forgive me ! I 
 locked that door, not upon that innocent, but upon my 
 dastard self ! " 
 
 Yet the next morning, such are woman's vagaries, 
 he has scarce seated himself at the breakfast table, when 
 two soft hands blind his eyes, and a sweet voice whis- 
 pers : " Guess who? " then laughs : " You don't recog- 
 nize my tone ; see if you remember my lips ! " Next 
 says, penitently : " I am obedient ; I will treat this lady 
 you bring with us with every courtesy. Only, I beg I 
 shall have thy permission, stern padrone, to wear a new 
 and handsome frock." 
 
 "Diavolo!" mutters Da Messina, with a grin. "Thou 
 hast not waited for my assent," and glances at a very 
 charming picture of budding girlhood, in a tight-fitting 
 traveling frock, of gray Lyons velvet. 
 
 " Please, please forgive the expense ! " she pleads, 
 anxiously ; then falters : " I I so want to look well in 
 thine eyes ! " and the next second queries, archly : "Dost 
 like me, mio padrone? " 
 
 " Cospetto, you are a pretty child ! " 
 
 " Last night you did not think me a child, though 
 you treated me as one." 
 
 Her eyes have a veiled inquiry in their brown depths 
 that makes Carlo ashamed of himself, and the great 
 tenor's face grows red as he chokes over his coffee that 
 his bound-maid, sitting across the breakfast-table from 
 him, has just poured out with dainty hands.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 15! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE COMMOTION AT THE OPERA HOUSE. 
 
 Therefore, that Friday afternoon, upon the deck of 
 one of the steamboats of the Sardinian line, as they sail 
 out of the old port of Marseilles, Carlo brings the con- 
 tessa to his ward, and Estelle receives her with a de- 
 mure coldness that makes Da Messina for the moment 
 frown. But the next second astonishment passes over 
 his face, as he s^es Signora di Vilermo do something 
 he could not, perhaps, have done for her win the heart 
 of his ward by that subtlety given to a few women, of 
 divining the minds of those they look upon. For, the 
 moment this lady meets Estelle, with exquisite tact she 
 greets her as comrade, and treats her as such. 
 
 She remarks : " You must not put me at arms' 
 length, my dear, when I had so much trouble to win 
 a place at your side." 
 
 " Indeed ! " says Estelle, raising her eyebrows, and 
 in her childish costume looking almost an enfante 
 gaitee. 
 
 " Yes, I had great difficulty in persuading your 
 guardian to take me with you, Mademoiselle Chartres. 
 He feared you would not care for a companion." 
 
 " Oh, my padrone often thinks of me ! " remarks the 
 girl, casting a grateful glance toward Carlo. 
 
 " Then won't you come with me to our stateroom? " 
 asks la contessa. " I have arranged with the stewardess. 
 I feared you might be lonely ; we will be comrades," and 
 so carries her away. 
 
 Da Messina, gazing after them, as they trip upon the 
 deck, the elder spirit uelle, svelte, and yet stately in her 
 beauty, the younger like a rosebud opening to the sun, 
 for this young widow's soul seems to be developing 
 under her first passion. 
 
 With a little grin upon his face, he thinks : "Sapristil
 
 152 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Had Signora di Vilermo called my sweetheart ' child/ 
 she had never got her arm about Estelle's waist as she 
 has now." 
 
 Half an hour afterward he hears the ladies laughing 
 and chatting as he raps upon their stateroom door and 
 suggests supper. And they all going to the dining 
 salon, Estelle finds she is still not permitted a young 
 lady's privilege of selecting what she is to eat. As the 
 dessert is brought in, some marrons glacees are placed 
 within her reach. 
 
 She knows these are forbidden- to vocal aspirants, 
 and, looking at her padrone, pleads : " May I ? " 
 
 " Why, certo, little one," he says, pleasantly, " while 
 we are en voyage; though sweetmeats are by no means 
 beneficial to that charming voice." 
 
 But, having been deprived of sugar plums for some 
 time past, Estelle accepts Carlo's permission, and makes 
 so brisk an attack upon the dainties that la contessa 
 laughs: "Cospetto, an indulgent padrone!" then cries: 
 " Let's put vocal culture aside for our trip, though in 
 Milan I presume mademoiselle will have to study all 
 the harder. During the voyage both you and I, cava- 
 liere, will instruct your pupil in Italian. Estelle longs 
 to learn the language. Is it not wonderful the progress 
 she has already made ? She knows every love term in 
 it ! " With one of her eyes slightly raised to give her 
 remark piquancy, the lady spy catches a flush on Es- 
 telle's face, bright as the crimson sunset that comes in 
 through the cabin windows; with the other she notes 
 that Da Messina is smiling very contentedly. 
 
 The meal finished, they all go out on the deck, for 
 the night is beautiful, and the Mediterranean soft as 
 a summer lake. The hazy shores of France are upon 
 their left, but growing slightly indistinct, for they are 
 leaving them. 
 
 The moon has risen, and, the air being balmy, both 
 Eugenia and Carlo rather laughingly acting on la con- 
 tessa's suggestion, proceed to teach Estelle Italian, the 
 ladies already calling each other by their first names.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 153 
 
 With this, a little incident arises that tells the astute 
 observer of the jealous heart for her maestro that is 
 throbbing in his pupil's breast. La contessa, in the 
 carelessness of absolute familiarity, using an extremely 
 colloquial expression that is not perfect Italian, Da 
 Messina, who wishes Estelle to acquire the language 
 accurately, suggests to Eugenia a correction of her 
 phrase, remarking : " Only to the adept can be par- 
 doned the carelessness of absolute confidence." 
 
 " Ah ! " jeers the lady, not altogether pleased at his 
 correction. " Now, Estelle, we are comrades two 
 young ladies and one padrone ! Would you like me to- 
 morrow, in Genoa, Signore da Messina, to sign a little 
 stamped paper like the one by which you hold made- 
 moiselle so firmly? Perchance you would place me 
 again en fillette, and I should have to ask permission for 
 bonbons, beaux, and other pleasures of life ? " 
 
 And in truth Eugenia would have been pleased to 
 have even given herself over to the hard lot of Italian 
 padroneship, could she have gained Da Messina's 
 secret to betray him. Any bondage seems light to her 
 compared with the dominion of Bolza, to whose hands 
 she is now journeying. 
 
 But a low voice, of such intensity it startles Eugenia, 
 now answers her light words : " Mio padrone has 
 promised to have no other apprentice than me. Ma- 
 dame la Comtesse, I have the honor of being the only 
 bound-girl of Pergolese ! " 
 
 " Ghieu ! " laughs Carlo. " The government of one 
 spitfire is too much for poor Pergolese ! " 
 
 But the passion of Estelle's voice has certified her 
 secret to the astute ears of Eugenia, who now, with 
 supreme tact, alleging a slight mal de mer, though the 
 boat is as steady as a house, goes to her stateroom, and 
 leaves the maestro and his pupil as they long to be 
 together and alone. 
 
 The deck is nearly deserted, for it is growing late. 
 A large wheelhouse, near the stern, gives these two the 
 privacy they seek.
 
 154 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " You are pleased ? " asks Da Messina, nodding in 
 the direction where the soft frou frou of skirts tells 
 them la contessa is descending the companion-way. 
 
 " With Eugenia ? Oh, very much ! But still, chiefly 
 because she leaves us en tete-a-tete," and Estelle's little 
 hand seeks the protection of his clasp. 
 
 " Ah, well, it will not be long before our trip is 
 ended," he remarks, " though I am glad you like her. 
 Two nights from now, Milano ! " 
 
 " Yes ! As the clouds are rising from my head, they 
 are darkening Dio! over yours, my Carlo, when 
 to your dear life comes the danger of Austrian court- 
 martial ! " 
 
 And she would go tearfully to his arms did not, at 
 this moment, la contessa stand before them, and say, 
 hurriedly : " Estelle, the key of our stateroom ! I for- 
 got it was in your pocket." 
 
 " Oh ah ! Yes, I I forgot it also," replies the girl, 
 and hands Eugenia the implement demanded. 
 
 " Thanks, no ; I still have my mal de mer," she re- 
 plies to Da Messina's polite invitation to remain with 
 them, though he is relieved as she goes away, for it 
 permits him to place a good-night kiss upon the lips of 
 his betrothed. 
 
 But il cavaliere would probably not rest so well in 
 his stateroom this evening did he know that Eugenia, 
 as she glided to them with very light steps round the 
 wheelhouse, glad of an excuse for hearing their words 
 of privacy, had caught Estelle's last, hasty phrase, " the 
 danger of an Austrian court-martial." 
 
 This indicates some business Da Messina has done 
 for Lombardian liberty in France. He has been from 
 Italy so long that Eugenia is now almost sure his visit 
 to Paris has not been altogether to bring back this 
 bound-girl, even though her voice gives promise of 
 great future value to her padrone. In addition, she is 
 satisfied that this girl, dressed as a child for she is 
 now quite well assured that Estelle is older than her 
 garb loves this man. " This is enough for to-night \ "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. *55 
 
 she thinks. " To-morrow will bring me more ! And 
 God help me, I must have more for Bolza ! " and tosses 
 uneasily upon her pillow, as she goes to sleep. 
 
 The next morning, the maritime Alps are like a blue 
 haze upon the steamer's port bow, and, amid the chat- 
 tering of the breakfast table, no voices are lighter than 
 those of Da Messina and the two ladies under his 
 charge, though in truth everybody on the boat is more 
 or less anxious, with the exception of a few English 
 tourists, bound for Sardinia and Sicily. The men of 
 trade, Italian, French, and German, who are journeying 
 to Italy, all know that war means destruction to com- 
 mercial interests. Many of the ladies traveling on this 
 ship have friends or relatives in the Sardinian army. 
 A couple of Austrian officers, returning to their com- 
 mands, are very well aware that Radetzky has sent for 
 reinforcements, which can not get to him before spring. 
 Even Da Messina's thoughts are quite often far away 
 from his sweetheart. The future of the next few weeks 
 looms up before this Italian conspirator big as a moun- 
 tain rising from the sea ! 
 
 As for Estelle, her little foot is tapping the deck un- 
 easily. Every revolution of the wheel is bringing the 
 man she loves nearer to danger; while, gazing at them 
 both, sits their monitor, pondering how to find some 
 rift in the armor of this girl's heart that will open 
 it to insidious attack. 
 
 A few minutes after, as she sits on the camp-stool, 
 Estelle standing by her side, the devil, sitting at Eu- 
 genia's dainty elbow, aids her happy divination. They 
 are alone for the moment, their escort having been car- 
 ried forward by some admirers, who have recognized 
 him, to enjoy a cigar, one of the pleasures of life that 
 is now drifting away from him, for no patriots in 
 Lombardy use tobacco, upon which a mighty duty 
 has been levied by their oppressors. 
 
 Near them are the two Austrian officers, pacing the 
 deck together. Chancing to pause in the turn of his 
 promenade, and speaking on this very subject, the
 
 156 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 elder, a captain, says : " They tell me that la bella 
 Olinska, who warbles so sweetly to us at La Scala, 
 is so good an Italian that she has given up, rather 
 than pay tax upon them, her favorite cigarettes." 
 
 " Mein Gott!" guffaws his companion, a young en- 
 sign of the Regiment Archduke Charles. " They also 
 say that la diva has given up Pergolese, which rather 
 proves that she has become an Austrian." 
 
 "Verfteuch!" rejoins his senior. "Sophie is too 
 much in love with Pergolese to ever relinquish him. I 
 am told this so-called patriot-tenor is on board a fool- 
 ish fellow to go back to Milan just at present; but I 
 presume the divine Sophie beckons to him." 
 
 These careless remarks have been overheard by both 
 the ladies. Watching Estelle carefully, Eugenia sees 
 in her eyes an anguish, that is replaced by a sudden 
 potent fire. Catching this, the astute plotter thinks : 
 " Oho ! A mighty jealousy for the reigning prima 
 donna at La Scala, Sophie Olinska, whom the world 
 calls Pergolese's mistress! I had a guess of this be- 
 fore ! This is my opening wedge that will gain me the 
 secrets of thy maestro, little one ! " 
 
 When Da Messina returns to them, the coldness of 
 his ward's greeting adds to la contessa's conviction, 
 though the gentleman, in the hurry of preparing for 
 disembarkation, doesn't seem to notice that his prote- 
 gee's eyes turn from his. 
 
 It is four o'clock in the afternoon. As they drive 
 over blue water straight at the mountain range, a rift 
 in the Apennines opens before them, running to the sea 
 to make a roadstead. On either side, two great light- 
 housed jetties, the Molo Nuovo and the Molo Vecchio, 
 fight off the surf to give greater security and size to 
 the harbor. Behind them, terrace upon terrace, straight 
 from the water, rise the marble palaces and stately 
 churches of Genoa, gleaming white in the sun upon 
 the hillsides, and shading away to dirty browns and 
 blues in the ravines nearer the water. 
 
 "Genoa la snpcrba!" cries Carlo; but the only an-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 157 
 
 swer he gets is an extremely anxious look from Estelle. 
 She knows he is nearer danger ; that beyond the single 
 range of mountains fronting them are the Austrian 
 bayonets. 
 
 Half an hour afterward, their vessel, at anchor in 
 the harbor, is surrounded by a concourse of shore boats, 
 manned by bronzed, athletic barcaroli, of dark, flashing 
 eyes, and vociferous exclamations, who shout : " Un 
 batello signori, unbatello!" Selecting one of these, 
 they are rowed toward the Ponte Reale. Here, for the 
 first time, Eugenia is assured that Pegolese loves his 
 ward. 
 
 There is a little swell upon the water of the harbor, 
 which, dashing upon the stone steps leading up to the 
 quay, makes them slippery, while it gives an uneasy 
 motion to' the boat. Unaccustomed to the sea, Estelle 
 hangs back timidly. From that moment, Da Messina, 
 intrusting his older charge to one of the Italian boat- 
 men, gives all his attention to his bound-girl. 
 
 Perchance piqued at Carlo's neglect, Signora di Vi- 
 lermo, turning her head as she is assisted up to the par- 
 apet, notices that at first he speaks to his ward reas- 
 suringly. But she still hesitating, he stoops, and 
 lifting her light form very tenderly and carefully, 
 makes his way up the slippery stairs, whispering into 
 her pretty ear what the boatmen, perhaps, think are 
 words of chiding; but this woman of astute mind, 
 espying the blushing face, drooping eyes, and tight 
 clutch of his burden's arms about her maestro, knows 
 are words of love. 
 
 In another second, he places Estelle upon the stone 
 walk, and says, lightly : " Run along, petite, in front 
 of me and la contessa." 
 
 Turning to obey, she pauses for a moment, aston- 
 ished ; then her eyes light up with pride in the man 
 she loves, for the boatmen, refusing fare, are all with 
 doffed caps and bowed heads, saying : " Welcome to 
 Italia, Pergolese ! '' 
 
 In a moment three bronzed forms are bearing their
 
 158 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 luggage in front of them, and, jostling their way along 
 the crowded Porto, which is just at present blocked by 
 a column of marching infantry, for everything shows 
 that the town is heavily garrisoned and upon a war 
 footing. 
 
 Five minutes after, they are at a nearby hotel, the 
 Croce di Malta. Here they select a charming suite of 
 three bedrooms and a parlor, into which very shortly 
 both ladies come, retoileted, after their voyage, Eugenia 
 looking almost stately, though exceedingly graceful, in 
 a black evening robe, while, in exact contradistinction, 
 Estelle is dressed in a little white foulard frock, deftly 
 constructed by a modiste in Marseilles to make her ex- 
 tremely youthful. 
 
 Looking at his watch, Da Messina remarks : " I 
 would have taken diligence this evening to Milan, but 
 the only one we could catch is at seven o'clock, and I 
 feared, after the sea voyage, you were too tired for a 
 continuous eighteen-hour ride." As he speaks, his eyes 
 turn tenderly toward Estelle. 
 
 Noting this, it perchance hardens Eugenia's heart to 
 this handsome fellow, whom she is to betray; for la 
 contessa would quite willingly give herself to this gen- 
 tleman if she could only win, by his confidence, her 
 safety from Bolza. But with a very astute mind, she 
 has determined that this man is in love with but one 
 lady in the party and that is his bound-girl. " Of 
 course, he has but to call her to him, and she dare not 
 disobey ! " she sneers. 
 
 After dinner, which they take in the public dining- 
 room, Signora di Vilermo, apparently willing to give 
 Carlo and Estelle tete-a-tete, leaves them, on the plea 
 that she has a visit to make to some friends in the 
 town. 
 
 So, after nightfall, the two, with no one between 
 them, stroll out to enjoy a moonlight ramble over the 
 center of the city. 
 
 A very few steps take them to the Strada degli Ore-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 1 59 
 
 fici, where that wondrous filigree work of gold and 
 silver, peculiar to Genoa, is manufactured. 
 
 And some magnificent specimens coming under their 
 eyes, Carlo escorts his ward into one of the shops, and 
 buys for her slender waist a very beautiful, golden 
 band. " It is my first present to thee, but here is an- 
 other," he remarks, and, leading her into the street, slips 
 upon the second finger of her left hand a jeweled ring, 
 whispering, ardently : " In proof of my troth." 
 
 With this, surprise strikes him, for the girl kisses it 
 rapturously, but instantly removes it from her finger, 
 and, concealing it in her bosom, says, simply : " Thy 
 safety demands that thy bound-girl does not wear this 
 openly. It would be a curious thing for my padrone to 
 be known as the affianced of his property for that's 
 what I am under Italian law, as near as nineteenth cen- 
 tury jurisprudence can make it." 
 
 Then she puts up a rather piteous face to him, and 
 pleads : " Can't I have a little money to spend, Carlo? " 
 For in the company of another woman, who has plenty 
 in her pocket, Estelle has begun to feel in the emptiness 
 of her purse the absolute dependence of her state. 
 
 " Certainly ! " he says, quickly. " Only you must 
 spend it immediately, because a rich apprentice would 
 be an anomaly. Do you want to buy anything? " 
 
 " Oh, so much ! I wish to get some of that beautiful 
 work in that shop for a lady who has been very kind 
 to me." 
 
 " Sapristi! The one you cried about two days ago? " 
 
 " Yes. Eugenia and I are comrades now." 
 
 " Why, certainly ! Buy for la contessa what you 
 please, and any time you need money, come to me. 
 Only, don't have in your pocket more than a few francs 
 at a time. On little things depend much greater ones." 
 
 Going in, Estelle selects a magnificent piece of Genoa 
 filigree to give as a present to the woman who has 
 gained her confidence to betray her. 
 
 Then the two climb the hill, and, turning along the 
 Via Carlo Felice, pass the great opera house of that
 
 160 ADRTENNE 1>E PORTALIS. 
 
 name, where Pergolese tells his sweetheart he made his 
 debut on the Italian stage. 
 
 " Santa Maria! " he laughs, looking toward the build- 
 ing whose great facade is lighted up, a crowd of car- 
 riages and loungers about it. " Mario and Grisi are 
 singing ' Lucrezia Borgia.' Would you like to step 
 over with me, petite, and hear an act or two of Doni- 
 zetti?" 
 
 " Oh, delightful ! But my dress ? " 
 
 " Is well enough for a child like thee." He pats her 
 cheek playfully. " Besides, in a loge you will scarce be 
 noticed." 
 
 So the two cross the street, and Estelle gets some 
 little inkling of what it means to be a popular tenor in 
 enthusiastic Italy. Even in the entrance, half a dozen 
 hackmen doff their hats, and murmur " Pergolese ! " as 
 if they were praying to a saint. 
 
 The next second, the manager comes flying from his 
 private office, and, with cries of love, embraces her 
 padrone, as she stands bashfully looking on. 
 
 But, apparently not caring for an ovation, her ma- 
 estro, after a few words stating his wishes, and also re- 
 questing that his presence be not made known, beckons 
 his ward to him, and presents the impresario to her, say- 
 ing : " This little lady is my favorite pupil." Then, 
 calling a passing flower-girl, he asks : " Would you 
 like some posies, Estelle, to toss to the sweetest tenor in 
 the world ? It is the custom among ladies here." And, 
 without waiting for her assent, he fills his bound-girl's 
 hands with bunches of white blossoms, over which her 
 eyes gaze in loving gratitude at this man, whose rule, 
 though absolute, is so tender. 
 
 Then, he escorting her as if she were a grande dame, 
 ihey are conducted to the manager's box upon the grand 
 tier, where Estelle sits quietly behind the shoulder of 
 her guardian, and looks out upon the great Italian opera 
 house, with its crowded, clamorous pit, and boxes, tier 
 on tier, filled with the fashion, beauty, and wealth of
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. l6l 
 
 what is probably the most aristocratic seaport in the 
 world. 
 
 Taking advantage of a lull in the music, Da Mes- 
 sina, who has remained at the back of the loge, ex- 
 plains to her that she will see more of the social side 
 of the affair during the entre acte, when general visit- 
 ing between friends takes place, and refreshments are 
 passed about. "Sapristi!" he laughs. "I already 
 smell the macaroni a la Napoli the economists in the up- 
 per boxes are cooking for their suppers." 
 
 But his protegee, in the lovely strains of Donizetti's 
 masterpiece, soon forgets all else except the exquisite 
 phrasing and charming singing of Mario, as he rings 
 out, perchance, the sweetest song ever written for the 
 tenor voice, " // Pescatore." And, at the rapturous 
 close, carried away by excitement, she trips to the front 
 of the box, and, imitating other ladies, tosses some of 
 the flowers in her hand to the sweet-voiced tenor. 
 
 Then suddenly, fearing her maestro will be jealous, 
 she turns to him, and, kissing a white rose, places it in 
 his buttonhole, murmuring : " Forgive me ! " 
 
 "For what liking Mario's singing?" he laughs. 
 " Cospetto ! I am enthusiastic about the fellow myself." 
 
 So, the curtain having fallen on numerous encores, 
 and Pergolese himself getting excited, and stepping to 
 the front of his box to applaud, someone in the audi- 
 ence chances to catch sight of his well-known features, 
 curly hair, and flashing eyes. In almost a second the 
 cry has gone up : " Pergolese ! Viva Pergolese ! " and 
 the audience would probably break forth in a furor 
 of applause for the artist, for already opera glasses are 
 being directed at him, and ladies in the neighboring 
 boxes toss flowers upon him, great heaps of them, that 
 they had kept for Grisi, and hands are commencing to 
 smite each other in the pit, did not of a sudden someone 
 in the gallery cry: " Viva Pergolese!" and " EWIVA 
 L'ITALIA ! " And the ovation changes from homage to 
 the artist whom they love to homage to the patriot that 
 they adore.
 
 162 ADRIENNE BE PORTAL1S. 
 
 " Viva Mazzini ! Viva Garibaldi ! Viva Pergolese ! 
 Viva Carlo Alberto ! " And the audience, in their 
 crazy, Italian way, begin singing the hymn of Pio 
 Nono, that pontiff, who, it was expected, would lend 
 his might for Italian unity. 
 
 While this is going on, the orchestra, actuated by 
 some curious freak, are flying back to their instruments, 
 and, in the midst of this, Mario, costumed as the fisher- 
 man, dashes into the box, and the two great artists em- 
 brace each other, the elder saying that Madame Grisi 
 begs that Pergolese will come behind the scenes to see 
 her. 
 
 But just here everything seems to stop in the house. 
 The curtain is rolling up, the chorus are grouped about 
 the stage, Tomassi, the leader, is waving his baton like 
 a crazy man, and up rolls "O S ignore dal tetto natio! " 
 that great chorus from Verdi's "/ Lombardi," which 
 was now the battle-hymn of the Milanse against their 
 Austrian tyrants. Then the whole house takes up the 
 strain, and Pergolese, perhaps remembering a brother 
 killed for singing of Italian liberty, after one great 
 flush of triumph, sinks down on the seat, sobbing like 
 a child. 
 
 As for Estelle, she has gone frantic with the rest of 
 the audience. She is applauding with her two little 
 hands, singing, as crazily as any of them, the Lombar- 
 dian hymn, and crying : " Viva Garibaldi ! Viva Maz- 
 zini ! Ewiva I' Italia ! " as loud as any of the mad 
 boys in the gallery. She is even slapping the shoulder 
 of this maestro whom she fears, and crying, like some 
 of the wild ones in the pit: " Abasso Austria!" 
 
 But, just at this moment, some man in the gallery 
 chancing to cry out, " Maladetto Mazzini!" there be- 
 gins an incipient riot. 
 
 Whereupon the manager of the theater, flying into 
 their box, falls on his knees before Pergolese, and, with 
 clasped hands, beseeches : " Good friend, great artist 
 whom I love, please God, get out of here, or the per- 
 formance won't go on ! They will tear the benches up
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 163 
 
 and twist the gas-fixtures out of their sockets ! I know 
 my mob when they start ! For the love of God, get you 
 gone, my patriot, tnio caro Pergolese ! I will show you 
 a private stairway." 
 
 With this, the tenor, anxious to oblige his friend, and 
 probably reflecting that, when he passes under Aus- 
 trian rule, this outburst will do him no good, follows 
 the impresario out, Estelle tripping behind them, a great 
 triumph upon her face; for this man she loves is hon- 
 ored by his people. 
 
 But the color leaves even her lips as they pass out of 
 the side entrance. She catches the solemn words of one 
 gentleman whispering to another : " I am very sorry 
 for this affair. The Austrian police won't forgive this. 
 If they can but get an overt act out of Pergolese, he 
 is gone like the Bandiera brothers, Menotti, and so 
 many others who have worked for United Italy." 
 
 Lingering to hear this cruel prediction, Estelle is 
 called by her guardian from a carriage : " Quick, little 
 one jump in beside me ! " And they riding home, she 
 buries her head in his shoulder and sobs, partly from 
 excited nerves, but chiefly from fear for the being she 
 loves. 
 
 " Italian liberty is too strong for your delicate frame 
 and ardent heart," he says. " I have been thinking that 
 I have no right to risk you upon the scene of insurrec- 
 tion, even if my not bringing an apprentice to Milan 
 does look suspicious to Bolza and his secret police. So 
 I shall place you with a family here." 
 
 But she, throwing her arms around him, clings to 
 him tight as the death she fears may come upon him, 
 and whispers : " Anything but that ! With you gone 
 from me to the land of conflict, I shall die of apprehen- 
 sion ! No, no, my Carlo ! I have not won thee to lose 
 thee in four days ! Not even Austrian bullets shall put 
 me from you ! " 
 
 " Then we will go together ! " he whispers to her, and 
 she, nestling her hand in his, dries her eyes as they 
 reach their hotel.
 
 164 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 . . . 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " NOW IT IS THY HEAD OR MINE ! " 
 
 At the Croce di Malta, they find the contessa await- 
 ing them, and Estelle giving to Eugenia her present 
 very prettily, puts not only astonishment at its value, 
 but such a pang into this woman's heart that, if it were 
 not her head or Pergolese's, she would let Estelle's lover 
 go his way, and perchance even give him warning. 
 
 But while Carlo and his ward have been at the the- 
 ater, she has wandered covertly to a steep and out-of- 
 the-way street, near the Muro dei Zingari. Here to 
 her cautious rapping has been opened the deep-set door 
 of a large house. A moment later she is in consulta- 
 tion with Donetto, who is en secret in this town, where 
 his life would scarce be worth a maravedi, were he 
 known as the agent of the Austrian police. 
 
 After receiving her report, he has said to her, severe- 
 ly : " What you bring me means nothing, Madame ! 
 Bolza must have evidence of some overt act, by which 
 he can destroy this accursed conspirator, whom I be- 
 lieve they are feting even now at the Carlo Felice, and 
 information such as will defeat the entry of arms into 
 Lombardy. You understand exactly how you stand," 
 he continues. " It is practically Pergolese or you ! So 
 work for thy immunity from Bolza's wrath, bclla don- 
 na! In case you are compelled to write, address me as 
 formerly. I shall be in Milan in four days, and my 
 name is not known as Bolza's to these conspirators." 
 And he bows la contessa out, a frantic eagerness in her 
 soul to discover what will save her. 
 
 The next morning, her mind being spurred to alert- 
 ness, an incident, insignificant in itself, comes to her 
 that gives her a little hope. As is usual, two dili- 
 gences leave each day for Milan, one at two o'clock in 
 the afternoon and the other at seven in the evening. 
 The trip takes about eighteen hours. The two o'clock
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 165 
 
 conveyance will be the most convenient, for by it they 
 will arrive in the Lombardian capital in the morning. 
 But Pergolese, though he apparently has nothing to do 
 except to shake hands with admirers of art and Italian 
 liberty who come to the hotel in flocks, remarks that 
 they will not leave until seven o'clock. 
 
 This selection of an inconvenient hour of departure 
 doesn't seem logical to a woman whose intellect has 
 been sharpened by her fears. Though Pergolese says 
 he has business, Eugenia can not discover it, as he is in 
 her company and that of his ward most of the day. 
 Therefore, she is pretty confident he has some hidden 
 reason for taking the seven o'clock vehicle. 
 
 Turning this over in her mind, these things strike her 
 strongly : Leaving at two o'clock, they reach Milan in 
 the morning, but cross the Austrian frontier in the 
 night. Leaving at seven o'clock, they arrive at Milan 
 in the afternoon, but pass into Lombardy after the sun 
 is well up. The only reason she can imagine for Per- 
 golese's selection of the latter trip is that he wishes to 
 cross the frontier after people are up and doing. 
 
 "Santa Maria! The frontier after daylight!" she 
 reflects. " He must want to see somebody there, who 
 might be asleep and not to be encountered during the 
 night! What was it that both Benuchio and Donetto 
 said to me : ' Discover what will defeat the entry of 
 arms into Lombardy ! ' The supreme difficulty with 
 their transportation, of course, will be at the frontier. 
 Mayhap, it is somebody about this business that my 
 Italian conspirator wishes to meet." 
 
 But this is only a faint suggestion to her mind, and, 
 though it determines her to watch the proceedings of 
 Carlo very closely, as they make their journey to Milan, 
 she has no great hope of it ; and, with a rather sad face, 
 accompanies Pergolese and his ward when he sug- 
 gests a drive up to the Acqua Sola. 
 
 Here they wander through the gardens, and finally sit 
 down not very far from the peculiar, old fountain, 
 whose curious bowl is decorated with hideous heads,
 
 166 ADRIENNE DE PORTALTS. 
 
 from whose grinning mouths the water dashes, yet a 
 little out of the crowd, listening, this Sunday afternoon, 
 to the fine military band. 
 
 As he lounges, Da Messina, asking the permission 
 not only of the contessa, but also, to that lady's aston- 
 ishment, the assent of his bound-girl, lights a cigar. 
 Lazily blowing the smoke in rings about him, with the 
 sadness of a confirmed lover of the weed, he remarks : 
 " To-morrow morning I shall be like a man who has 
 lost his best friend ! " 
 
 " Thy best friend ? " falters Estelle, reproach in her 
 radiant eyes. 
 
 " You mean your cigars ? " laughs la contessa. 
 
 " Yes," he answers, " though 'tis naught to be merry 
 over. After we cross the frontier, to-morrow, I am 
 divorced from tobacco." 
 
 " And why ? " asks his ward, who does not altogether 
 understand this peculiarity of Lombardian patriotism. 
 
 " Why ? Because the Committee have recommended 
 that no Milanese use cigars or tobacco, the monopoly of 
 which pays our rulers such enormous tax that it en- 
 ables Austria to support the garrisons that hold us 
 slaves," he says bitterly. " Diavolo ! If I had this 
 sweet morsel in my mouth, I would probably have my 
 cigar pulled from between my lips by the first true 
 Italian who saw me on the Corso, or the Piazza Duomo, 
 of my city. Corpo di San Marco! I'd do it myself to 
 another man ! " * 
 
 " So you will not be able to smoke because it will put 
 
 * This curious action of the Milanese patriots of 1848 came about in this 
 manner : 
 
 Austria had made a government monopoly of tobacco, and from it derived 
 a large portion of its revenue. The Milanese, to cripple their rulers, decided 
 to absolutely abstain from all use of the weed, and kept that resolve with 
 astounding resolution for a community where cigarettes were as their daily 
 bread. 
 
 An obsolete by-law of Milan forbade smoking in the streets of the city. 
 This law the patriots revived, and if an Austrian officer was seen with a cigar 
 in the streets he was likely to be assaulted. The bloody scuffle of January 3, 
 1848, in which eight townspeople were killed and ntarly fifty wounded, arose 
 from this, as, when the Milanese gave up smoking, the Austrian soldiers 
 in derision smoked everywhere, and puffed the breath of their nostrils into 
 Italian faces Collated from History of Lombnrdo Venetio Insurrection of 
 1848 Italy in tkt Nineteenth. Century, and L&eration of Italy, by Contessa 
 
 *6aresco. ED.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 167 
 
 money into the' pocket of the Austrian government?" 
 asks Estelle, gazing into his face wistfully. Then she 
 half laughs : " Dio mio, without tobacco for thy nerves, 
 thou wilt soon become very cross to me ! " adding, with 
 a most alluring moue: " Eugenia, when I am chided 
 in Milan, it will not be because I am naughty, but be- 
 cause Pergolese does not smoke." 
 
 " Ma foi, I fear it will not make me good-natured ! " 
 Carlo grins, though his mirth has a yellow tinge 
 about it. 
 
 But here, some idea coming into his protegee's bright 
 mind, she queries, anxiously : " If they didn't pay duty, 
 I suppose there would be no harm in cigars? " 
 
 " Not a sou marquee!" he replies. " Don't you see, 
 in Genoa, I am smoking like Vesuvius." 
 
 " Yes, indeed I do, Carlo mio ! " cries Estelle, in the 
 careless happiness of love. 
 
 But here, noticing a frown upon her guardian's face 
 at her lack of caution, and a look of astonishment in 
 Signora di Vilermo's eyes at the familiarity of a bound- 
 girl's speech, she falters: " Oh, pardon mio padrone! 
 Please please ! " and, rising, stands before him, and 
 renders to him a very graceful, and exceedingly hum- 
 ble, courtesy. 
 
 "Diavolo! Tis hard to be stern with thee!" he 
 remarks. " Your sweet face would disarm even the 
 dreaded Bolza." 
 
 At this, la contessa winces, as if stung by the lash, 
 but neither Da Messina nor his ward notice her they 
 both have eyes, about this time, only for each other. 
 
 A few minutes after this, chancing to be alone with 
 him Eugenia having, in her deft way, given them a 
 tete-a-tete Estelle suddenly whispers to her guardian, 
 quite bashfully, but very pleadingly: "Mio padrone, 
 can't I, please, have a little money to spend to-day? " 
 
 " For what do you wish it, petite? " 
 
 " Oh, some young-lady shopping ! " 
 
 "On Sunday?" 
 
 " Yes. I know a shop that is open. Why should I
 
 1 68 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 not ? Eugenia and I have been at mass this morning at 
 the San Lorenzo, so I am good for all day. Please, mio 
 padrone, please ! " She makes a caress now of the term 
 of servitude she once loathed. 
 
 " Darling, if I only dared ! " he stammers ; then mut- 
 ters, suddenly : " Help thyself ! " and hands her his 
 purse. 
 
 Out of this, casting a furtive glance at him, she grabs 
 half a dozen gold pieces, and into his ear flutters: 
 " Please pardon my extravagance." 
 
 " Why should you not spend it"? " he whispers, in a 
 shamefaced way. " It is thy own money, of which 1 
 have robbed you, little one." 
 
 These gold pieces seem to make the robbed one very 
 happy, for even as they drive back to the hotel, she is 
 laughingly tossing the coins up in the air, and saying, 
 archly : " Eugenia has promised to go shopping with 
 me!" 
 
 At this sight of gold, la contessa raises her eyebrows, 
 rather astonished at a padrone's liberality ; though by 
 this time she has made up her mind, with Continental 
 and Bohemian freedom, that Estelle is probably the 
 child of well-to-do parents, and has been bound to Per- 
 golese, not because of her poverty, but because he can 
 train her exquisite voice better than any teacher in 
 Italy ; also, that the padrone has fallen in love with 
 his beautiful captive, and, when she is a little older, in- 
 tends to make her his mistress, even if she is not that 
 already. 
 
 Some things now occur to add strength to this 
 opinion. 
 
 They have scarce alighted from the carriage in 
 front of the Croce di Malta, when Estelle, with a 
 little courtesy, says : " If you don't mind trusting me 
 with Eugenia, we will go for our shopping, mio pa- 
 drone." 
 
 " Certainly not ! " replies Da Messina, who thinks it 
 is some lady's fol de rol she wants, and doesn't care, 
 probably from bashfulness, to consult him about it.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 169 
 
 But as he turns away, he adds : " I have a little busi- 
 ness, myself, with a friend or two." Information that 
 makes Eugenia more anxious to accompany him than 
 his ward. 
 
 But she has no time to think of this, for, getting 
 her to an out-of-the-way corridor of the hotel, Estelle 
 whispers such curious questions that astonishment takes 
 all else out of la contessa's head. She stands, gasping 
 with open mouth, as Pergolese's apprentice follows this 
 up by asking, anxiously : " If they caught me, what 
 would they do to me ? " 
 
 " Imprison you, my poor child ! " 
 
 " Then I'll try it ! I don't want him to be unhappy. 
 You can testify, if I am caught, that he did not know 
 anything about it." 
 
 " But, then, I will be accessory before the act," dis- 
 sents Signora di Vilermo, " and the customs regula- 
 tions are very severe." 
 
 " Peste ! Take a little risk for a friend, as we used 
 to say in the convent when the mother superior gave us 
 penance for refusing to report each other, won't you ? " 
 
 For a moment Eugenia hesitates, then suddenly says : 
 " Well, if you wish it ! " For into her mind has flown 
 this thought : " Here is a grand step toward the confi- 
 dence of my conspirator's sweetheart." 
 
 So, the two trip hastily off together to a little to- 
 bacconist's, in the old-fashioned Via Luca, where three 
 ragged boys and a man, leading a couple of donkeys, 
 look in the window at the bella figlia, as Estelle pur- 
 chases a hundred fine Regalias, saying, apologetically, 
 to the old shopman : " They are not for me, Signore, 
 but for a very good friend." 
 
 " Oh, la, la ! That's what all ladies say when they 
 buy cigars, though these are quite large for your young 
 lips," chuckles the old fellow, as he does up the boxes. 
 
 As they stroll back, Estelle carrying her purchase, 
 carefully wrapped up and concealed in her cloak, la con- 
 tessa, a query in her voice, remarks : " I wonder you
 
 I7O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 have so kind a feeling for your padrone, when he is so 
 stern to you." 
 
 " Stern to me? " You are crazy ! " 
 
 " Not at all. The night you arrived in Marseilles, 
 didn't I hear your sobs and piteous entreaties, when he 
 beat you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " murmurs Estelle, her face growing red 
 with humiliation. " Yes, but I I deserved it." Then, 
 anxious to defend the man she loves, in voluble un- 
 truth, she adds : " It was his duty to punish me ! But, 
 you see how kind he is to me when I am good. You 
 know he is good to me ! " she cries, indignantly. " Oth- 
 erwise, why did you wish to become his apprentice like 
 me ? You you needn't deny it ! I saw you meant it 
 by your face in the moonlight on the steamer's deck." 
 
 At this, Eugenia bursts out laughing, and gets a step 
 closer to Estelle's heart, as she whispers : " No need 
 to be jealous, petite. Pergolese has eyes only for one 
 bound-girl, and that is Mademoiselle Chartres." 
 
 " Oh, do you think so?" cries Estelle, clapping her 
 hands joyously, and snuggling close to Signora di Vi- 
 lermo. 
 
 So, coming to the Croce di Malta, the ladies find that 
 Pergolese has not yet returned, and go to their rooms, 
 where, in strict privacy, with trembling fingers, Estelle 
 devotes an hour to making some peculiar preparations 
 in her toilet for the journey. 
 
 Some little time after this, il cavaliere returning, they 
 have a quiet dinner in their parlor, and, as soon as the 
 meal is over, the ladies retire to costume for the trip, 
 leaving Pergolese smoking, a^ he says, his last apres 
 diner cigar. This does not take very long, and their 
 luggage being sent ahead of them, the night being fine, 
 they follow it on foot to the diligence office, which is 
 but a step from the Croce di Malta. 
 
 Here they find the coach quite empty, travelers gen- 
 erally journeying from the scene of expected insurrec- 
 tion, rather than toward it, Da Messina remarking that 
 he has had no trouble in engaging the whole <K the
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 1 71 
 
 coupe. As their passports are being viseed, he wraps 
 up Estelle very carefully, saying : " It will be quite cool 
 as we cross the crest of the mountains." 
 
 A few minutes later, he having carefully assisted the 
 ladies to their places, the coach rumbles away over the 
 stony streets. 
 
 " We always have the coupe in the diligence," Es- 
 telle says, laughingly. " It is our fate. Don't you re- 
 member, Radetzky, at Troyes, sat in the front seat, 
 where Eugenia is now." 
 
 " Radetzky ! " cries Signora di Vilermo, astonished. 
 
 " But not the great marshal," replies Carlo. 
 
 " Only his nephew, Captain Franz, of the Regiment 
 Maria Theresa, on the staff of the Governor of Lorn* 
 bardy," prattles Estelle, sitting, very happy, close be- 
 side her guardian. 
 
 "A fede, you seem to remember the captain very 
 well ! " laughs Da Messina. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? You should remember him, too. 
 You saved his life. Why, only a week ago to-night, 
 when he left us at Lyons, you embraced each other. It 
 was Franz and Carlo between you then. He loves you 
 because you saved his life, mio padrone." 
 
 Then she suddenly babbles on : " It would not sur- 
 prise me if he met us at the office of the diligence upon 
 our arrival in Milan." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " asks her maestro. 
 
 " Because I wrote to him by last night's post that we 
 were coming." 
 
 " Diavolo ! You spm anxious to let him know ! " 
 
 " He he asked me to," Estelle adds, frankly, though 
 she stammers a little, noticing that Da Messina's man- 
 ner indicates he is not altogether pleased at her cor- 
 respondence with the Austrian captain. 
 
 But the diligence rumbling over a Tittle bridge across 
 the Polcevera, which is foaming along its stony bed, 
 Estelle, perhaps to avoid Carlo's eyes, puts her head 
 out of the window to inspect the moonlit river. " Oh,
 
 172 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 look, Eugenia ! Isn't it a savage, little torrent ? " she 
 cries. 
 
 " Ma foi, since both you ladies are enjoying the scen- 
 ery, with your permission, I will enjoy a cigar," re- 
 marks the cavaliere. " I think I have just about enough 
 of these to let me reach the Austrian custom-house 
 without a single dutiable whiff." 
 
 At this there is a subdued snicker from Estelle, who 
 is still gazing out of the window ; but in the ecstasy of 
 one of his big celestriales, Carlo doesn't note his sweet- 
 heart's suppressed mirth. 
 
 Shortly after this, the conversation from sleepy mono- 
 syllables gradually dwindles to silence. 
 
 The night is well upon them. They are slowly climb- 
 ing the Apennines, and Estelle, nestling her head upon 
 her padrone's shoulder, goes to sleep. As Carlo finishes 
 his second cigar, he notes that the contessa is already 
 in the land of Nod, and his arm steals about the slight 
 waist of the sleeping figure next to him. 
 
 So they journey by Ronco, near the crest of the Apen- 
 nines, and gradually descend to the hilly country about 
 Arquata, and, passing Novi a little in advance of day- 
 break, before them lie the great plains and meadows 
 that run down to the River Po. 
 
 An hour or two after this, the sun, coming brightly 
 into the diligence, awakes them all. Straining his eyes 
 to the front, as they ride toward the north, there is a 
 strange concern upon Da Messina's face, for this man, 
 though he is going to home and friends, knows that 
 almost in his hand he bears what will bring devastation 
 to many a hearthstone, and despair to many a family, 
 by the death of sons and fathers the notice that soon 
 they will have arms to strike their tyrants down! 
 
 This has kept him awake, and all through the night, 
 as they have approached the Lombardian frontier, the 
 signs of military activity that are evident have made 
 tears come into his manly eyes as he realizes the awful 
 struggle that confronts his native city.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 173 
 
 At Novi, they have passed through a strong patrol 
 of cavalry. 
 
 Now, as they ride into Tortone, they find the town 
 garrisoned by a full brigade of infantry. 
 
 As the diligence rumbles into the courtyard of the 
 little inn, Carlo, stepping out, hears words from two 
 farmers, who are in for early marketing, that make him 
 know the emeute is very near. 
 
 " A good business to-day," says one. " The troops 
 buy everything." 
 
 " Ghieu! This is nothing like the trade over at Ales- 
 sandria, where Amadio took four loads of potatoes Sat- 
 urday. He says Carlo Alberto has three full divisions, 
 ready to jump upon the Austrians as soon as Venezia 
 and Milano rise." 
 
 " Diavolo ! That will come soon enough ! " cries the 
 other. " My friend Giacomo, who has just arrived from 
 Ferrara, tells me that a Venetian mob have made the 
 Austrians give up Manin and Tommaseo, and have 
 carried those patriots in triumph around the Piazza, di 
 San Marco." 
 
 ' Then the Virgin help us ! " says the other, in peas- 
 ant timidity. " Who knows but that the Austrians 
 will beat Alberto back, and come upon me and my 
 garden? They burnt the house over my grandfather 
 when they fought the French at Marengo, but ten 
 miles away." He gives a gesture toward the west. 
 
 Just here, a young man coming out of the hotel, 
 passes Carlo, and says : " The best wine is in the 
 osteria, two doors from here, Signore." 
 
 " Thank you, friend : I will take the hint," replies il 
 cavaliere, and marches off quickly in the direction in- 
 dicated. 
 
 La contessa, who has been watching him quite care- 
 fully, sees no particular reason for this move, even if 
 Pergolese is thirsty, as the door of the wine-room of 
 the inn is only ten feet from his face. She says, lightly, 
 to Estelle : " I think a stroll will do me good," and 
 steps out of the diligence, from which the hostlers are 
 just taking the horsey
 
 174 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Why, of course ! " cries Estelle. " Besides, we have 
 breakfast here, and I am hungry ! " And her light feet 
 overtaking Signora di Vilermo, she links her arm in 
 hers before that lady has reached the entrance to the 
 courtyard. 
 
 Thus prevented from making any decided attempt 
 to discover what their escort does in the osteria, Eu- 
 genia, with Estelle hanging on her arm, strolls along 
 the narrow unsidewalked street toward the wine-shop, 
 which seems a tumble-down affair, frequented by a few 
 sots of the town and farmers from the neighboring 
 communes, who have idle hours upon their hands. 
 
 Several of these are lounging about the place, and a 
 voice coming quite loudly and triumphantly from the 
 interior, proclaims that Rusticus is inside. 
 
 " By my patron saint ! " brags a man, exultantly. " I 
 have made the best deal in hay this year ! What do you 
 think, Signore; I have sold one hundred tons to the 
 quartermaster of the Fourth Austrian Hussars, to be 
 delivered, on the 2Oth, to that official in front of their 
 barracks in Milano." 
 
 " Cospetto! " jeers a gruff voice. " I wonder if these 
 Austrians know their horses will be eating Marengo 
 hay!" 
 
 The jeering laugh that comes up at this drowns any 
 other reply, though the contessa, as they pass, suddenly 
 turns and looks at Estelle, for at the word " hay " that 
 young lady has given a sudden and tremulous clutch 
 upon Eugenia's arm. " I I turned my ankle," she 
 stammers. " They leave so much garbage about these 
 dirty streets." 
 
 " Ma foi, I wonder was it the garbage or the hay that 
 made mademoiselle slip ! " cogitates her companion. 
 
 Her suspicions would probably be increased did she 
 know that Da Messina, as he steps out of the osteria, 
 is thinking, rapidly : " One hundred tons of hay will 
 require fifty wagons. Though rwr Genoa adviser 
 deemed it rash, that arrangement had the boldness of 
 genius. Under the Austrian quartermaster's permits,
 
 'ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 175 
 
 these wagons will cross their frontier without customs 
 examination." 
 
 Therefore, with a face made bright by hope, he joins 
 the ladies, and escorts them into breakfast at the little 
 inn, where everyone seems to be in that peculiar nerv- 
 ous exaltation that coming war brings to those within 
 reach of it, combatants and non-combatants, men and 
 women. Even as they eat, a couple of batteries of light 
 artillery rumble through the streets, going toward Ales- 
 sandria. 
 
 " Santo Gennaro ! " murmurs the landlord, a young 
 and, apparently, sanguine man, who is officiating at the 
 breakfast. " Those fine fellows will be doing some- 
 thing to the Austrians soon." 
 
 " And won't the white-coats be doing something 
 also?" returns a gray-bearded farmer, sadly. "Gran 
 Dio ! As a boy I remember when Melas and his Aus- 
 trians didn't leave a roof in Tortone; nor a loaf of 
 bread, nor a flask of wine neither, when that old plun- 
 derer was marching to beseige Massena in Genoa. It's 
 a long while ago, but evil times have come again." 
 
 " So they will as long as the troops of any foreign 
 nation occupy Italy ! " cries Da Messina, excitedly. 
 Then, apparently to put a more cautious tongue into 
 his mouth, he strolls away for another cigar before they 
 reach the frontier. 
 
 Estelle, rising, trips off by his side, but la contessa 
 doesn't offer to accompany them, as she guesses that 
 no very active conspiring will take place in his appren- 
 tice's presence. 
 
 " He wouldn't compromise that chit ; I know by the 
 way he looks at her," thinks Eugenia, and, going back 
 to the diligence, into which the horses are now being 
 put, takes her seat in the coupe. 
 
 After a minute Estelle comes running to the diligence, 
 and, springing into it, buries a blushing and tearful face 
 deep in her hands. 
 
 " Good heavens, child ! You are sobbing what is 
 the matter ? " whispers la contessa-
 
 1 76 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " He he lectured me for being vain about my my 
 ankles. He said I had made this dress shorter, when 
 I I haven't altered it a bit." 
 
 " Don't you know," replies la contessa, " that stitch- 
 ing into your skirts, about your hips, a lot of " she 
 puts her lips close to Estelle's blushing ear, and con- 
 tinues the sentence " has shortened them ? " 
 
 " Oh, I forgot that ! But it is so unjust, when it 
 was all for his sake ! " 
 
 " Peste! Can't you see his reproach means he is jeal- 
 ous of every little inch of you ? " 
 
 " But still, when I only wear this hateful, childish 
 frock because " 
 
 In her indignant grief, Estelle's pretty lips might now 
 emit some almost fatal secret, did not at this moment 
 Da Messina call to her in apparently apologetic voice. 
 
 " I I must go to him. You see, he repents already. 
 Don't you dare say he is unjust to me! " she whispers, 
 and springs from the vehicle. 
 
 " Cospetto ! In another moment the emotional crea- 
 ture might have told me something but all in good 
 time ! " philosophises the lady spy, and watches in con- 
 tented but eager philosophy Da Messina and his sweet- 
 heart wander off out of sight into a little copse of chest- 
 nut trees that fronts the hotel. 
 
 As the driver of the diligence calls, " All aboard ! " 
 they come running out of the grove, both apparently 
 friends again, and in much better spirits. 
 
 So much so that, as they ride along, il cavaliere be- 
 gins humming the hymn of Pio Nono; but suddenly 
 the driver of the diligence stops his team, and, spring- 
 ing from his box, says : " Thank God, there is nobody 
 but your party in the coach to hear you! For the 
 love of God, stop that song the Austrians have pro- 
 hibited ! We are only half a mile from their out- 
 posts ! " 
 
 " Then I have just time for another last cigar," mut- 
 ters Da Messina, and, producing his case, in which Es-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 177 
 
 telle sees there now are three, he lights up and gloomily 
 smokes. 
 
 But approaching the frontier, he tosses the half-con- 
 sumed weed away, and, pulling out his cigar-case, pre- 
 sents both it and its contents to the officer command- 
 ing the few Sardinian troops that are stationed near 
 the posts, that, standing beside the little inn, mark the 
 dividing line of Lombardy and Piedmont. 
 
 In the farther portion of this posthouse, through 
 which the boundary line runs, just in the Austrian ter- 
 ritory, sit a couple of Imperial officers of cavalry. They 
 are chatting with the Sardinian captain, and are only at- 
 tended by a few dismounted troopers, the main portion 
 of their command being encamped about three hundred 
 yards from the frontier. 
 
 The bulk of the Sardinian troops are likewise in their 
 tents, about the same distance from their boundary ; for 
 the commanders on the immediate frontier are very 
 careful about permitting the personal contact of their 
 soldiers, fearing that some sudden melee among privates 
 may bring on premature hostilities. 
 
 As the diligence changes horses, Da Messina makes 
 his declaration, and puts his and the ladies' impedi- 
 menta under the Austrian customs inspector's eye ; and, 
 his party being the only passengers, the examination of 
 their baggage is made quite rapidly. 
 
 Then comes the matter of their passports, in which 
 the official is very strict. He scrutinizes, with careful 
 eyes, the two ladies, as they sit in the coupe, and com- 
 pares them with their written descriptions ; doing like- 
 wise with Da Messina. 
 
 Fortunately, their escort has taken the precaution to 
 have the passports visced by the Austrian consul in 
 Genoa. This giving their scrutator confidence, he very 
 shortly returns the papers to their owners. 
 
 Then, with a long, deep-drawn breath, as if making 
 up his mind to a desperate act, from which retreat will 
 be impossible, Da Messina steps into the diligence, and 
 takes seat beside his ward
 
 17& ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 The next second the driver chirps to his fresh team, 
 and, with crack of whip, and a short jolt over a rut in 
 the road, they pass the Austrian frontier. The line of 
 Imperial cavalry is now betwixt them and all return; 
 and Estelle, with a suppressed sigh, puts frantic clutch 
 upon the arm of the man she loves, who is now within 
 the lion's claws. 
 
 This emotion of Da Messina's sweetheart is fortu- 
 nately unnoticed by Madame la contessa. Just at this 
 moment, a cold shiver runs through her graceful limbs. 
 She remembers she is now under the personal hand of 
 Bolza, her passport bearing upon it no return permit. 
 
 With this, inspired by mortal fear, she looks at the 
 handsome fellow sitting opposite to her, and says to 
 herself these desperate words : " Now IT is THY HEAD 
 OR MINE!"
 
 BOOK IV. 
 THE NAKED HANDS OF THE PEOPLE C 
 
 CHAPTER xv. 
 
 THE YOUNG LADY SMUGGLER. 
 
 Then, over dusty roads, for the season is quite well 
 advanced, and the weather very warm for March, Da 
 Messina and the ladies drive down the broad plains that 
 lead to the Po, and soon, apparently forgetful of all 
 save the lovely meadows through which they journey, 
 get to chatting easily again. 
 
 A little time after this, just as they enter Vochera, 
 Da Messina shouts with laughter at the antics of an 
 Austrian cavalry recruit they encounter in the road, 
 whose horse tries to unseat him and run away. For 
 there is a good deal of the boy about this conspirator, 
 and the human mind is wonderfully elastic, even under 
 the fear of death. 
 
 So they rumble along quite merrily, and, crossing the 
 Po at Stradella, after a little stretch of level they rattle 
 over the old bridge that spans the Ticmo, to arrive in 
 Pavia, where, having time, they stroll back to the Pozzo, 
 near the Ticino bridge, to take a hurried dinner, gazing 
 at some passing barges in the river and a little, puffing 
 steamboat, upon whose deck, to general astonishment, a 
 man is smoking a pipe. 
 
 "Ghieu!" growls their waiter, under his breath, 
 for he knows Pergolese by sight. " That scoundrel 
 is a Scotch engineer, but we'll mob him to-night ! " 
 
 This impresses the desperate feeling of the people on 
 Estelle, but ever since they have been in Lombardy the
 
 180 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 evidences of political unrest have become more and more 
 apparent. She has seen but few peasants working in 
 the fields, though many, with frowning faces, lounge 
 about each village osteria, and talk in low and sullen 
 tones. 
 
 Approaching Pavia, the diligence has passed a num- 
 ber of strong patrols of cavalry, and two guns, appar- 
 ently ready for action, have confronted them as they 
 crossed the bridge over the Ticino. 
 
 At every place of importance their passports have 
 been carefully re-scrutinized, and twice their baggage 
 has been re-examined by officious customs inspectors, 
 though no ferret of the lot seems to suspect the pretty 
 child, who has sat so bashfully in the far corner of the 
 coupe. One noticed that she trembled as he passed the 
 coach ; but, in his continental, official vanity, imagined 
 that it was but the shyness of early maidenhood looking 
 at a man of his extreme authority and power. 
 
 Likewise, Da Messina's charge has noted that, in 
 great contradistinction to the puffing peasants of hap- 
 pier Piedmont, no Lombardian yokel has, between his 
 bucolic teeth, pipe or cigarette. Now, in the streets of 
 Pavia, she sees that no Italian, noble nor tradesman, has 
 a cigar between his lips ; likewise that the numerous 
 students of the great universities are pipeless, though, 
 as if in jeer of the misery patriotism has brought upon 
 the worshipers of nicotine in this land, the Austrian 
 officers strut about, ostentatiously puffing smoke into 
 every Italian face, disdaining the awful warning in 
 many of the insulteds' eyes. 
 
 As they finish dinner, Da Messina's brow becomes 
 clouded. Twice since crossing the frontier, from force 
 of habit, he has put his hand contemplatively into his 
 pocket, to feel the absence of his cigar-case, and with- 
 draw his fingers with a start. Missing the smoker's 
 climax to this meal, he utters a subdued execration. 
 
 Estelle, whose eyes are ever on him, noticing his dis- 
 appointment, whispers, sympathetically : - " How will 
 you bear the absence of your cigars to-morrow ? "
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. l8l 
 
 "Peste! I must endure it," he answers, testily. 
 " My discomfort is no greater than any other non- 
 smoking Italian in this unfortunate land ; " and is 
 rather astonished, as he rises to settle his score with 
 mine host, and the ladies pass out in advance of him, 
 to see Estelle nudge Eugenia and laugh quite merrily. 
 
 " It is some little pleasantry of my sweetheart's," he 
 thinks, contentedly, and does not wonder at the inti- 
 macy that has grown up between the contessa and his 
 protegee; for Eugenia's one aim since they left Mar- 
 seilles has been to win the heart of Da Messina's ward. 
 
 Though the intrigante would have liked this hand- 
 some tenor's love well enough, she has deftly seen he 
 has only eyes for his charming ward; therefore, with 
 extreme tact, has made no attempt in a line that would 
 have certainly brought upon her Estelle's suspicions, 
 jealousy, and rage. Besides, she feels sure that she 
 could lure no secret vital to his country's liberty from 
 Pergolese, even if in his arms, and so has turned most 
 of her allurements upon Estelle, whose jealous love for 
 her padrone Eugenia determines shall be her weapon. 
 
 But, while trying to gain the good-will of the bound- 
 girl, she is by no means averse to the padrone also 
 thinking well of her ; for in this lady spy's mind is now 
 the despairing thought : " In three hours, Milano ! 
 There, if they bid me adieu, I am at the end of my rope, 
 and then Bolza ! " 
 
 So, throughout this journey, she has been striving by 
 every feminine art and she has many to win her com- 
 panions to her, and succeeded well enough; for, as 
 Pergolese strolls behind the ladies, he looks complacent- 
 ly on his ward's arm about Eugenia's waist, and even 
 takes cognizance of the beauty of Signora di Vilermo, 
 who, as she trips from the portico of the inn, has an 
 aristocratic bearing, mingled with a very youthful and 
 spirituelle grace. 
 
 " Cospetto ! My lady would look well upon the 
 stage ! " he laughs to himself, as he overtakes his 
 charges.
 
 1 82 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 They are soon in the diligence, which is now filled 
 with passengers, for people think themselves as safe in 
 one city of Lombardy as in another, Austrian troops 
 being everywhere. 
 
 In proof of this, as they leave Pavia, by the Porta di 
 Milano, they see to their right a brigade of white- 
 coated infantry engaged in field maneuvers on the Pi- 
 azza Castello. 
 
 Having engaged the whole of the coupe, though the 
 interieur is crowded, Da Messina and his party journey 
 quite privately. 
 
 As they approach the capital of Lombardy, the signs 
 of an oppressed and discontented populace grow more 
 and more distinct. Once, as they pause at a little vil- 
 lage-smithy, one of the horses having thrown a shoe, 
 they see three honest-looking contadini manacled and in 
 charge of a squad of Austrian soldiers. 
 
 Most of the passengers are looking impatiently at 
 the shoeing, but Da Messina, getting the chance of pri- 
 vate word with a countryman, asks about this chain- 
 gang. 
 
 " They were arrested this morning, as they labored 
 in their fields, and are now on their way to the galleys 
 in Illyria, under that new law proclaimed last month 
 by Radetzky I can't master its foreign name, but it 
 lets 'em shoot a man in two hours," whispers the rustic. 
 
 " Yes, the Judicium Statuarium," mutters il cavaliere. 
 Then he asks, shortly : " For what crime ? " 
 
 "How does anyone know? " answers the man. Then, 
 doffing his hat, he whispers : " Pergolese, I say this in 
 thy ear : they are like what people say thou art that's 
 all ! " He shrugs his shoulders and turns away as Da 
 Messina returns to the diligence. 
 
 As the coach rolls off, to the ladies' inquiries he tells 
 them part of what he has heard, and can only partially 
 conceal its effect upon himself. 
 
 After his outburst, he turns to Eugenia, and says, 
 apologetically : " You, I hope, will pardon the agita- 
 tion of an Italian, Madame la Comtesse, at the suffer-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 183 
 
 ings of his countrymen. Of course, you being an Aus- 
 trian, scarcely appreciate my feelings." 
 
 The answer that comes astounds him. Eugenia whis- 
 pers, as if afraid of being overheard : " My country is 
 as oppressed by those white-coated fellows as is yours." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean I am a Hungarian." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! What lover of liberty has not heard 
 of Kossuth, the coming man ! Some day, we have 
 
 hope " But here Carlo prudently clenches his teeth 
 
 and says no more, though this lady's acute remark has 
 placed her much closer to him. 
 
 The three manacled men have likewise a tremendous 
 effect upon Estelle. A violator of the law is generally 
 timid. At the next posthouse, at change of horses, 
 fearing that someone may smell tobacco upon her, 
 though each cigar is carefully wrapped in tinfoil, the 
 little smuggler, upon the excuse that she is too tired, 
 declines her padrone's invitation for a stroll. 
 
 " But I am not ! " cries la contessa, cheerfully, and 
 wanders off by the side of the handsome tenor to make 
 her plea, for a very curious idea is in this lady's mind, 
 though just at present she does not think it wise to 
 more than hint at it. 
 
 As she walks along the dusty road with Pergolese, 
 she suddenly inquires : " What do you intend to do 
 with Estelle when we reach Milano ? " 
 
 " I have already engaged apartments for her in the 
 big, comfortable, old house of Madre Paolo Vicenza, 
 Via Oriani, just back of La Scala." 
 
 " But I fear she will be lonely there she knows no 
 one and you, of course, will " 
 
 " Will live at my old apartments in the Rebecchino. 
 The restaurant below makes it convenient for me. 
 Without a companion for Estelle, I should hesitate to 
 occupy the same house with her, notwithstanding 'tis a 
 padrone's custom." 
 
 Here Eugenia astonishes her escort. She asks : 
 " Why shouldn't I be the companion, if not the chape-
 
 184 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 rone, of your apprentice, whom you treat as your 
 ward?" 
 
 " Sapristi!" replies Da Messina, a tinge of surprise 
 upon his face. " I had supposed you left almost imme- 
 diately for Trieste." 
 
 " Impossible," she replies, " if remittances are not 
 awaiting me at Milano. You see, what little property 
 I have is in Hungary. The coming outbreak there has 
 perhaps ruined me." This is whispered almost under 
 her breath. 
 
 " Yes, I have heard of that,"' replies Da Messina, a 
 look of hope upon his face ; for a blow to Austria is a 
 blow for Italy. He is also very well aware that 
 some ladies are always complaining about their finances. 
 Therefore he adds : " Your own course must be your 
 own option, Madame la Comtesse. As to your sugges- 
 tion, I plainly tell you that, occupied as she will be with 
 her lessons and her music, I shall permit no lady to be 
 intimate with Estelle, unless she is so under my control 
 and guidance that I can direct their friendship entirely." 
 
 At this uncompromising reply, the lady pouts: 
 " Then I suppose I must stay at some hotel," and 
 suddenly pleads, anxiously : " But you will let me visit 
 one of whom I have grown to be very fond ? " 
 
 Reflecting upon the loneliness that must come upon 
 his betrothed, as he well knows that mighty events will 
 soon keep him almost continuously from her society, 
 Carlo answers politely, almost pressingly : " Any after- 
 noon, immediately after four o'clock, for an hour, I 
 shall be pleased to have you call upon my apprentice." 
 
 " Only for an hour ? " La contessa's face grows wan. 
 An hour a day is not enough for her design. 
 
 " Yes, for Estelle will be occupied with her music 
 lessons. But our little lady is beckoning to us," rejoins 
 il cavaliere, who has been looking over his shoulder at 
 his betrothed's winsome face. 
 
 As they step into the coach, Estelle greets them with 
 a smile. She has no jealousy of Eugenia; her heart
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 185 
 
 has no fear but for the great prima donna of La Scala, 
 who once was her affianced's mistress. 
 
 Of this, the lady sitting by her side is very well 
 aware, as she has, by various diplomatic allusions, kept 
 Olinska en evidence. 
 
 But Pergolese, not guessing this, looks on Madame 
 Intrigante benignly. 
 
 Then, as a great city, with semi-medieval walls and 
 bastioned gates, looms up in the distance before this 
 wanderer returning to the land of his nativity, he says : 
 " // gran Milano ! " and cries out to both ladies : " Here 
 see! The smoke of our woolen manufactories and 
 silk mills ! We shall be very shortly at the gates of my 
 city. Behold our great il Duomo! You have never 
 been in Milano before, Madame di Vilermo? Well, we 
 have everything here but happiness. Twelve crops of 
 hay a year on our meadows; several editions of early 
 vegetables; plenty of wine; an abundance of sheep; 
 lots of silkworms. We have been stormed twenty-seven 
 times and besieged forty-six times, and have always 
 been reigned over by a tyrant from the time of Charle- 
 magne ! " 
 
 As they cross the darsena, he mutters : " Maledetto ! 
 Here are some of our rulers ! " For, passing a canal, 
 they are at the Ticinese gate, where their passports are 
 again examined, and Da Messina's eager eyes see with 
 concern that the sentries have not only been doubled, 
 but that the Porta is garrisoned by three strong com- 
 panies of infantry, ferocious Croats, who, in their undis- 
 ciplined love of blood, booty, and beauty, are still sol- 
 diers of the Dark Ages. 
 
 Then they rumble off between high, old-fashioned 
 houses, through the narrow and crooked streets of old- 
 time Milan. For it was not till it became part of 
 United Italy that the new, broad, straight, well-paved 
 Corsos and magnificent Galleria Vittorio Emanuele 
 were opened, which, together with the enlarging and
 
 186 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 beautifying of the square of il Duomo, have made the 
 city not only modern but cosmopolitan. 
 
 But, after passing some rather squalid buildings, 
 which at that time almost abutted upon one side of 
 the great cathedral, they turn into what is now called 
 the Via Monte Napoleone, where the diligence office fe 
 located. 
 
 Here, as they stop, Estelle suddenly claps her hands, 
 and cries : " Carlo, there is Captain Radetzky ! " 
 
 And the young Austrian officer seizes and embraces 
 Da Messina before he can get out of the coach. 
 
 " Ach Gott! So glad to welcome you!" he cries. 
 " I am well ahead of you. I have been here four 
 days." Then, bowing to Estelle, he adds : " Thanks 
 for your little note, Mademoiselle ! " And, seeing Eu- 
 genia, he remarks, in laughing whisper, to Da Mes- 
 sina : " But you have another protegee another ap- 
 prentice ? " 
 
 " No, my dear fellow, a lady to whom I offered es- 
 cort to my city. La Contessa di Vilermo, permit me 
 to present Captain Franz Paulus Radetzky, of the Regi- 
 ment Maria Theresa." 
 
 " Ah ! " remarks Eugenia, putting pleasant eyes on 
 this frank-faced, frank-voiced, young Austrian. " You 
 you are some relative of the Governor of Lorn- 
 bardy?" 
 
 " Yes, his nephew ! " answers the young man, 
 proudly. 
 
 Then Pergolese interjects : " Franz, I will ask you 
 a favor. Will you kindly escort Madame la Comtesse 
 to her hotel? It is, I believe, the Grande Bretagne." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; the Corso della Palla. I know the place 
 very well," replies the Austrian. " But your address, 
 my friend ? " 
 
 " Oh, my apartments are at the Hotel Rebecchino, 
 Via Santa Margherita. I keep them there by the year." 
 
 " And Mademoiselle's? " asks the captain. 
 
 " At No. 22 Via Oriani. Callers will be permitted
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 187 
 
 for one hour after four o'clock in the afternoon. You 
 see, I am not secluding her like a novice, Franz; but 
 she has a lot to do. She's got a voice worthy of work." 
 
 " Yes, and I've got a maestro who'll make me do it! " 
 prattles Estelle, her eyes very bright as she foresees a 
 tete-a-tete with her padrone. 
 
 " But," remarks Radetzky, who has already picked 
 out a carriage for la contessa, " you must dine with me 
 this evening I insist, Carlo." 
 
 " Yes, if you will let me select my own hour," an- 
 swers il cavaliere, heartily. 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " Then I name seven o'clock, and ask you where ? " 
 
 " The restaurant at your hotel, the Rebecchino ; 
 you won't have far to go to-night, and I can see the 
 journey has tired you, and, of course, fatigued the 
 ladies," replies Radetzky, as la contessa makes her 
 adieux, and he assists her into a carriage. Then the 
 young Austrian officer's face grows haughty, and, gaz- 
 ing about him, he sneers : " These canaille seem to 
 frighten our little friend." 
 
 For Estelle is gazing in amazed horror at the crowd 
 of loungers standing about the diligence office. These, 
 as her padrone has stepped out of the stage, have taken 
 off their hats to him, bowed before him, and murmured, 
 " Pergolese illustrissimo ! " as if he were a god. But 
 now, noticing his intimacy with the Austrian officer, 
 they have clapped their hats upon their heads, and are 
 snarling, almost threateningly: "Traditore!" 
 
 Even as il cavaliere places his ward in the carriage, 
 and takes seat beside her, one fellow almost puts his 
 head into the vehicle, and, nodding it back and forth, 
 hisses: " Abasso tenor e di Austria! Maladetto Pergo- 
 lese!" 
 
 At these insults from the lips of those he loves, Da 
 Messina turns pale, and Estelle, nestling to him as they 
 drive away, sees on his face the agony of an overpow- 
 ering shame.
 
 1 88 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE ARMS IN THE HAY. 
 
 But, a moment after, the patriot says, determinedly : 
 " Why should I care if I do my duty ? Those gentle- 
 men will some day see whether Pergolese is traditore or 
 not ! " 
 
 Then tossing the curls back from -his forehead, and 
 apparently throwing this matter from his mind, Carlo 
 hastily tells his sweetheart his plans for her. " Origi- 
 nally it had been my intention to place you at the school 
 of my aunt, Signora Giuseppina Bianchi, but now I 
 hesitate to subject you to the severe discipline and hard 
 work which there would certainly come to you. Be- 
 sides, surrounded by a lot of girls, some apprentices, 
 some pupils for pay, but all careless gossips, my visits 
 to you, except when I gave you singing lessons, would 
 bring embarrassment and comment upon you. There- 
 fore, by letter, I have engaged some rooms for you with 
 old Madre Paola Vicenza, an e.r-maitresse de ballet of 
 La Scala. She has a big, comfortable, old house, just 
 back of the theater. Age has made Paola a hag, but she 
 was once celebrated, and has probably a few dancing- 
 girls under her wing." 
 
 " You you don't mean to put me with the balle- 
 rinif " asks Estelle, anxiously. 
 
 " Certainly not. You will be altogether by yourself. 
 Old Madre Paola will do anything for Pergolese. You 
 will be treated in private as a princess." 
 
 " Ah, but I am not treated as a sweetheart," mur- 
 murs the girl, archly ; then, after a little, fluttering 
 struggle, cries: ''Stop, Carlo mio! The the people 
 in the streets will see us ! " 
 
 For their carriage is passing through the great Pi- 
 azza il Duomo, which is now crowded by an afternoon 
 Milanese throng ; ladies going into the grand cathedral 
 to make confession ; shovel-hatted priests, and venders,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 189 
 
 ftnd hucksters of all kinds that curious mixture of an 
 Italian city in the .days when the young nobles wore 
 picturesque velvet coats; when the bandit, who had 
 robbed Englis mi Lor" in the mountains, jostled with 
 him in the public squares of Naples or Firenze in 
 short, the days of Fra Diavolo and Zerlina, of Carbonari 
 and secret societies, whose weapon was the stiletto; 
 those times so pleasant to read of, exciting on the 
 stage, but perchance not so pleasant to live in ; those 
 days before the coming railroads brought modern life 
 to a new Italia. 
 
 Still, the place is very bright and animated with that 
 peculiar vivacity that makes Italian cities, even in their 
 lowest quarters, seem theatrical and picturesque. 
 
 " Though no one smokes, they all look happy," whis- 
 pers the girl; then adds, with feminine, quick judg- 
 ment: " Pish! There's no rebellion in this town, inio 
 Pergolese ! " 
 
 At this announcement, Da Messina gazes at her as- 
 tounded; then replies, excitedly, but very cautiously: 
 " No rebellion when but six months since seven stu- 
 dents were killed and thirty wounded in Pavia by those 
 white-coated wretches! No rebellion when scarce 
 sixty days have passed since eight Milanese were killed 
 and fifty mutilated for pulling the cigar out of an in- 
 solent soldier's teeth! No rebellion when within the 
 month four hundred of us were, without trial, sent to 
 slave in the galleys or toil in the fleet of our tyrants ! 
 Corpo di Diavolo! Look at those two companies of 
 infantry guarding his palace, and see if Radetzky thinks 
 there is no rebellion in Milano ! " 
 
 He points to the Palazzo di Corte, where, in the ab- 
 sence of his Emperor, the grim, old Austrian Governor 
 sits like a watchdog looking over Lombardy. 
 
 But now they rush into a rather dark and narrow 
 street, and soon after pass the fagade of La Scala, 
 where Estelle, looking at the announcements, gives a 
 little, frightened shudder, for she sees posted up, 
 " QLINSKA NORMA WEDNESDAY!" and feels she is
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 face to face with her hated rival. But, scarce a second 
 after, she cries : " Oh, your name, Pergolese for Sun- 
 day evening in ' Lucia ' ! You sing ' Edgardo ' ! " and, 
 putting pleading eyes upon him, falters : " I I shall 
 hear you? " 
 
 " Cospetto, you shall, little one ! If I can not ar- 
 range with some fine lady to take you in her box, you 
 shall come with me, and stand within the wings. You 
 see, I had given my word to Zirconi, the manager, 
 when I left, that I would sing for him immediately 
 upon my return, and he has already remembered it. 
 But here we are at what I hope will be a pleasant rest- 
 ing place for you, anima mia." For their carriage has 
 driven from the Via San Giuseppe into the Via Oriani. 
 
 From here they would turn into the courtyard of a 
 building that had once been some old palace, did not a 
 red-shirted doorkeeper cry: " Arrestare!" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " remarks Pergolese. " I presume ma- 
 dames does not want her ballet-girls gadding about the 
 streets, and keeps this fellow as a kind of Cerberus." 
 
 After a moment's explanation, they drive past the 
 man, to find themselves in a flagged courtyard, from 
 which entrance is made to the upper floors of the 
 building. Being met at the massive, old-time door, 
 with its strong bolts and gigantic lock, they are escorted 
 by a stalwart, Italian serving-girl, whom Pergolese 
 calls Josepha. This abigail seems to know the tenor 
 very well, for she walks, smilingly, in front of them, 
 chattering : " So this is thy pretty, little canary bird ! 
 We have a pleasant cage for her ! Numo, of the Ma- 
 rionettes, his family, and also Madame Cavello left for 
 Naples, fearing coming trouble so we are empty," and 
 on the second floor shows them into a spacious parlor, 
 from which opens a roomy, yet dainty, chamber, both 
 very pleasantly lighted, as they front upon the street. 
 
 Here Estelle claps her hands and looks with grateful 
 eyes upon her padrone, for she sees preparations have 
 been made for her. A grand piano, already opened ; 
 a pile of sheet music, some opera scores, and quite a
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. iQl 
 
 library, including even the novels of the day; a por- 
 celain stove, in which the fire is burning briskly; a 
 lot of rugs thrown over the floor ; some pretty bronzes, 
 and two or three pictures, that are little masterpieces of 
 Italian art. " I had these sent over from my own 
 apartments," remarks her betrothed, in answer to her 
 glance. 
 
 But she has caught sight of a vase, bearing a great 
 bunch of early roses, and is crying : " For me, Carlo 
 mio for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, everything for thee ! " he whispers. 
 
 At this strange intimacy between bound-girl and pa- 
 drone, Josepha opens her eyes; but, being wise after 
 the manner of her class, courtesies, and says : " I will 
 call Mother Vicenza." 
 
 As the door closes, Estelle flies into her lover's arms, 
 and murmurs : " Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! But 
 still, thou art cruel." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 " As yet not one kiss in my new home." 
 
 " Cospetto, but I am a villain ! " he laughs, and there- 
 after his betrothed has no cause for complaint. 
 
 A moment after, he seats her tenderly upon a sofa, 
 and takes a step or two about the room, as if in medita- 
 tion, once abstractedly putting his hand to where his 
 cigar-case should be, and withdrawing- it with so un- 
 happy a face that his sweetheart gives a sudden chuckle. 
 
 But, pausing in his step, he speaks to her very gently, 
 but quite commandingly : " Now I shall have lots to 
 keep you busy. This is what I have planned for thee : 
 Baptiste shall give you instruction with the foils ; Ron- 
 cono shall teach you the piano and harmony; Old 
 Mother Paola shall show you enough dancing to give 
 you grace and dramatic gesticulation ; Madame Pacini 
 will run over for an hour each day to make you an 
 actress." 
 
 " And you what will you do for me, mio padrone?, " 
 returns Estelle.
 
 IQ2 ADRIENXE DE PORTALTS. 
 
 " Oh, I shall teach thy pretty voice il bell canto. At 
 least an hour a day I shall hear thy exercises." 
 
 " Only an hour a day? Madre mia! " cries the girl. 
 
 " But I shall come to you whenever it is possible, 
 though I have lots to do arrangements with the im- 
 presario and rehearsal. God knows what may come 
 upon Pergolese ! " he exclaims, for he dare not tell her 
 that it is very different matters that will take him from 
 her side. " And now," he says, " I must bid you 
 adieu." 
 
 " So soon ? " she falters, and the plaint that he has 
 feared comes to him from her imploring eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I have something important enough to even 
 take me from your side ; but this evening I will come to 
 you at half-past six. Besides, your eyes tell me that 
 you are tired from your journey." 
 
 He rings a bell, and to his call comes in the lady of 
 the house a great, tall, gaunt, Neapolitan woman, with 
 eyes as black as coals, and hair that has grown into an 
 iron-gray which suits her iron frame ; for Paola, even 
 in her middle age, is lithe as a cat, and powerful as a 
 panther. 
 
 " You will excuse my tardiness, maestro," she says, 
 returning a courtesy for his bow. " One of my ballet- 
 girls just fell at her exercise, and sprained her knee. 
 Welcome from Paris, where, I am told, they have run 
 their king away. We may do a little of that kind of 
 business ourselves some day. Your letter got to me, 
 and I hope you are satisfied, though you apparently de- 
 manded apartments for a princess." She gives a grin 
 as Estelle is introduced to her. 
 
 " You will take care of this song-bird of mine ! Just 
 teach her enough of thy art, dear Mother Paola, to give 
 Mademoiselle the graces of the stage," remarks Per- 
 golese. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! It is a song-bird always now," says the 
 dancer, bitterly. " But, ten years ago, when Taglioni 
 got greater hire than any singer of you all, it was not 
 all song-birds ; it was sylphs, and nymphs, and dancing
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. IQ3 
 
 fairies. But you have turned your back upon ballet, as 
 well as the rest of the world, Pergolese. Still, for you 
 Italia's friend I am your humble servant, and the 
 young lady's, though it is a curious thing to make a 
 princess of a bound-girl." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; but wait till you hear her sing ! " 
 
 " Gran Dio! I can see she has sung herself into your 
 heart ! " laughs the woman ; at which Estelle blushes 
 beautifully. But suddenly her eyes grow troubled, for 
 La Vicenza snorts, in affable comment: " Diavolo! 
 What will la diva over there " she nods toward La 
 Scala " say to a child rival ! " and laughingly goes off, 
 leaving Pergolese biting his lip, and his affianced with 
 a tear in her bright eyes. 
 
 Noticing this, Da Messina steps straight to Estelle, 
 and says, almost sternly, yet oh, how tenderly : " My 
 own ! I have torn this lady's picture out of my watch ; 
 believe me, dear one, she was never really in my heart. 
 Pay no heed to the gossips of this place. Sapristi! The 
 chorus of La Scala would give Pergolese a new amour- 
 ette every day." 
 
 " I won't, mio Carlo," she says, in simple determina- 
 tion. " Your every action since I gave my lips to you 
 has proved to me that you loved me. Take them again, 
 to know that I have faith in you ! " Her soft arms 
 close round his neck; her sweet lips tell him that she 
 believes. 
 
 So, after a moment, he tears himself from her ; and 
 his bound-girl, running to the window to catch view 
 of her padrone as he walks along the street, devours 
 his figure till he turns a corner. 
 
 Then she, loneliness coming to her, sighs : " He he 
 never looked back to see if I was gazing after him ! " 
 
 But here her young eyes catch, through a narrow 
 opening in the houses, one tower of that great building, 
 erected by Visconti, and now used as a barracks by 
 the Austrians, called the Castello. Above it floats the 
 double-eagled banner of the Empire. Beyond is the 
 great, green field of the Piazza d'Armi. Upon this are
 
 194 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 three brigades of white-coated soldiers Croats exe- 
 cuting their maneuvers; but these do not interest her 
 very much, though, perchance, they might frighten her 
 did she know they are drilling with ball-cartridges. 
 
 Then the sight of Austrian power reminds her ; she 
 laughs : " I forgot I was a smuggler ! " and runs to 
 her dainty bedroom, where, seeing another vase of fresh 
 cut flowers, she goes to them and kisses them. A mo- 
 ment after, locking the door, she pulls off a heavy un- 
 derskirt, works diligently at it, and cries : " Ninety- 
 five are all right for Pergolese-! " and pouts : " Five 
 have been ruined by my sitting on them ! " These she 
 tosses into the fire, but puts away very carefully in her 
 trunk, which she finds is already in her room, the ninety- 
 five consolers for her patriot. 
 
 Then she rings a bell, and Josepha, bustling in, says : 
 " Would you like some dinner, Mademoiselle ? He 
 ordered it for you before he went away." 
 
 " No, nothing now ; I am too tired. But don't fail 
 to call me at half-past six, for then he will be here 
 again ! " So, hastily disrobing, this bound-girl slips 
 her exquisite body between the white sheets of a dainty 
 bed, puts her fair head upon soft pillows, edged with 
 lace, as if for a princess's slumbers, and goes to sleep, to 
 dream of Pergolese. 
 
 Perchance her dreams would not be so pleasant did 
 she know the business her lover is engaged in. For, 
 after making the many maneuvers of a man who fears a 
 spy is always at his elbow at one time passing through 
 buildings that lead from one street to another, and 
 waiting to see if anyone is following him; and at 
 others suddenly retracing his steps quickly to catch 
 a careless pursuer Carlo finds himself in the dark 
 entrance of an ancient house in the very densest part 
 of old Milan. 
 
 The door of this is not opened till he has given three 
 very peculiar salutes. Entering, he encounters, in the 
 long passageways of the old Palazzo, a dozen loungers, 
 every one of whom gives him the grip of Young Italy.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. IQ5 
 
 Did he not return it, a dozen knives would be in him in 
 a second. But, recognizing him, his inquisitors take 
 off their hats quite reverently. 
 
 So he passes on, and, being cautiously admitted to a 
 dingy room, three men spring up to meet him with a cry 
 of joy! Two of them, apparently by their dress, are 
 of the nobility; the other, a dogged, white-haired, 
 snarling creature of almost seventy years, wears a semi- 
 military costume, and, by his bearing, accent, and de- 
 meanor, indicates that he was an old officer of the 
 Republic, when France, under Bonaparte, dominated 
 Europe. 
 
 Immediately Carlo enters, the door is quickly closed 
 and locked, and heavy curtains are drawn over it. Then 
 they seize Pergolese, and tender him the cautious greet- 
 ing that men under fear of death give to one another. 
 
 " Now," hastily says il Conte Gabrio Casati, the Po- 
 desta of Milan : " Da Messina, never mind details ; give 
 us the vital point of your journey ! " 
 
 " The arms will be here by the 2Oth ! " 
 
 At this the two Italians give a sigh of relief, and the 
 younger, the gallant Luciano Manara, cries : " Thank 
 God!" 
 
 " How many ? " asks the old republican officer, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Twelve thousand two hundred rounds of ammu- 
 nition to each musket." 
 
 " How in the name of the Goddess of Reason will 
 you get them here ? " snarls the Frenchman. 
 
 " Concealed in hay-wagons, driven from the meadows 
 of Tortone, passing the frontier without customs ex- 
 amination, because each one will be protected by the 
 placard of the Austrian quartermaster of the Fourth 
 Hussars. Each wagon, on passing our frontier, will 
 be guarded by Austrian troops ; but each wagon will 
 be driven by one who can be trusted. Foscari, a farm- 
 er of that district, and a true lover of liberty, made 
 the contract under my directions. I had arranged the 
 matter with him, likewise with our agents in Genoa, on
 
 196 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 my way to France. These wagons will be driven so as 
 to arrive at nightfall in this city on the 2Oth. They will 
 enter by the Porta Tosa. They will be drawn up, only 
 when it is too late to unload them, before the barracks 
 of the Fourth Hussar Regiment. Then, during the 
 night, we will take quiet charge of them." 
 
 " But, heavens and earth! " cries Manara. " If the 
 horses of the Austrian escort want hay on the journey? " 
 
 " That is arranged for. We have one wagon that 
 carries no arms. The drivers are instructed to so ar- 
 range that the Austrians will take hay from no other 
 wagon. In addition, only the very-center of each load 
 contains arms. Each package of muskets or ammu- 
 nition is bound up in hay. Besides, this country hay 
 innocent hay is piled in bales all around them. The 
 troopers of the escort will have to make a much closer 
 investigation than pulling a few bunches of fodder out 
 of any wagon to discover what they are convoying to 
 Milan. I think I have worked out the matter quite 
 thoroughly," remarks Da Messina. 
 
 " Diavolo, with the astuteness of genius ! " cries 
 Luciano. 
 
 " Tonnerre de Dieu! You fixed the trick with that 
 boldness that makes security! Diable! In old times, 
 our Little Corporal would have clapped you on the 
 back ! " growls the old republican. 
 
 " Thank you, Colonel Labat," smiles Carlo. " A 
 word of praise from your experienced lips was more 
 than I ever expected to gain." 
 
 " Sacre bleu!" chuckles the old rcvolutionaire. " I 
 had never expected to say so much for you, my high- 
 screeching patriot. But to work ! " 
 
 On this with the care of men who are arranging a 
 movement upon which not only their lives depend, but 
 perhaps even the honor of their wives and daughters, 
 for God knows what will happen if they suffer defeat 
 these patriots make plans for throwing off the Aus- 
 trian yoke on the night of the 2Oth of March. In this 
 they are deftly aided by the snarling counsels of the old
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 republican soldier, who, having fought behind many 
 barricades and in numerous street melees in the days of 
 the Revolution, knows this business to perfection. 
 
 " We must strike before morning on the 2ist! " re- 
 marks Casati. " Otherwise the Austrians will guess 
 what we are doing." 
 
 With this, they arrange that ten wagons are to be 
 hurried to the students' quarter, five to the woolen 
 mills, and ten to the silk manufacturers' district ; and, 
 the others properly distributed, a sufficient detail of 
 men to go with each of them, and that each section, 
 headed by its leader, shall act according to a plan to 
 be formulated in the coming two weeks, this Monday 
 being the 6th of March. 
 
 For these leaders of the Milanese had not the crazy 
 thought, of which they have been accused, of sending 
 up their townsmen with naked hands against the Aus- 
 trian bayonets. That came afterward an inspiration 
 born of their despair ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE THREE TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Just out of the Via Santa Margherita, where no\V 
 the magnificent Galleria Vittorio Emanuele is located, 
 in 1848, stands a pile of medieval buildings, entered 
 by a narrow alley, which terminates in a courtyard. 
 Gloomy in themselves, the Milanese pass by them as 
 if they dreaded them, for they are the Dirczioni Gen- 
 erale di Polcsia, the headquarters of Austrian police 
 espionage of the city of Milan and Lombardy. 
 
 Though well guarded by a detail of sentries, a com- 
 pany of infantry being stationed in the building, they 
 are, at a little after nine o'clock this evening, very still. 
 Everything about them seems to move with that quiet,
 
 198 'ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 official bureaucracy, indicative of a power so great it 
 needs no outward show. 
 
 Into their courtyard, draped as closely as an oda- 
 lisque, with thick, Spanish veil drawn over her shapely 
 head, la Contessa di Vilermo glides. She gives a whis- 
 pered word to the sentry, and he permits her to pass 
 him, to encounter a police sergeant. A moment after, 
 she is conducted to a well-remembered door in the 
 facade of the courtyard, and her hand trembles as she 
 lifts the old-fashioned knocker. To her rapping, this 
 portal is very quickly opened. 
 
 As she enters, a confidential official, out of uniform, 
 says, suavely : " Madame la Comtesse is expected," and 
 shows her up a flight of stairs to the private office of il 
 Conte Bolza, the most hated, yet the most feared, man 
 in Lombardy. His master, the old Austrian general of 
 iron nerve, Radetzky, will crush the enemies of his 
 Emperor openly like a warrior; this underling will 
 strike in the dark like a bravo. 
 
 But men often belie their appearance. Dressed ac- 
 curately in official evening costume, with knee breeches, 
 silk stockings, court swallow-tail coat, and patent leath- 
 er, red-heeled shoes, surmounted by gleaming, golden 
 buckles, Bolza looks more of the olden than of the 
 modern time; and his police administration is the 
 same. 
 
 His forehead is quite broad, his cheeks rather white, 
 his lips very thin but highly colored, and his manner 
 diplomatic. He would be thought a quiet gentleman 
 of the ancient regime did not serpent's eyes, black and 
 beady in repose, but, when excited, gleaming red, like 
 glowing charcoal, make him appear as deadly as that 
 dread snake of Martinique, whose unclosing orbs glow 
 night and day with the red light of danger. 
 
 He rises on Eugenia's entrance, and bows courteous- 
 ly, saying, in soft, cold tones : " So pleased to see you ! 
 You were expected. I have some communications 
 about you, not only from Benuchio, in France, but from 
 Donetto, in Genoa. Please take off your wraps, Con-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 199 
 
 tessa I like to study my subjects then tell to me 
 your story." 
 
 He sits down at his desk, and, a moment after, la 
 contessa, standing before him, relates everything she 
 knows or guesses about Da Messina, and, as she closes, 
 finds Bolza is not pleased with her tale. 
 
 " Peste!" he says, testily. " What you relate to me 
 is nothing only a few suspicions, surmises, guesses ! 
 Besides, this Pergolese, I have been told by Captain 
 Radetzky, of the General Staff, is a very fine fellow 
 a friend, perchance, of Austria. He saved, at his own 
 great risk, the life of an Austrian officer in the Saone. 
 He has not that implacability to those wearing our uni- 
 forms that the so-called patriots of this country have. 
 Diavolo! he is even now dining with Franz Radetzky, 
 over there at the Rebecchino! In addition, the two 
 young men embraced each other at the general dili- 
 gence office this afternoon." 
 
 " Oh, but Your Excellency," urges Eugenia, " I 
 know there is something wrong about Pergolese " 
 
 " Because at sea his trembling apprentice whispered 
 she was afraid of an Austrian court-martial? Ach 
 Gott, some other ladies are afraid of Austrian au- 
 thority ! " 
 
 He gives a grin, which makes la contessa tremble, 
 and continues, sneeringly : " What you tell me of the 
 opera house at Genoa was, of course, reported by Do- 
 netto. But it is nothing; an Italian mob are always 
 ready to cry ' Viva Garibaldi ! ' and ' Evviva I' Italia ! ' 
 Then, at Tortone, this Pergolese went into an osteria to 
 get a glass of wine ! At how many other places on the 
 route did the tenor grow thirsty ? " 
 
 " About four or five other places," admits Signora di 
 Vilermo. " But this was before we reached the fron- 
 tier. Besides, his apprentice " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; his apprentice slipped on some cabbage 
 leaves in the street, while some farmers were talking 
 of hay! That is so unusual for farmers to talk of
 
 200 AD&IENNE t)E PORTALIS. 
 
 hay. Gott in Himmel! They generally talk of nothing 
 else ! Ah, Madame, you fatigue me so ! " 
 
 Then the snake's eyes begin to flame ; his voice be- 
 comes squeaky, like an overstrained violin string; he 
 twangs at the almost fainting culprit : " Two years ago, 
 when your husband was sent in perpetuity to the 
 galleys, you, in my presence in Trieste, confessed thy- 
 self guilty of false bills of exchange. I have given you 
 two chances to atone for thy crimes, and how have you 
 done it? In Turin, on some silly matter of private 
 virtue, you refused to give your arms to that Sardinian 
 marquis, and we missed information of great value. In 
 this, your second case, you have done nothing noth- 
 ing ! " He sounds a bell. 
 
 " Oh, God of Heaven ! " she bursts out. " Your Ex- 
 cellency, I implore you, don't " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! But I must my matron, Bettina, is 
 waiting for you. There is a little, white cell ready for 
 you in the rear of the building." 
 
 " Give me time ! " gasps the woman, in a conglom- 
 erate sob and scream. " Just give me time ! I feel sure 
 that the arms are coming by the frontier ! Oh, give me 
 time to betray this conspirator into your hands ! No 
 scruples shall come between me and my duty to you. 
 If he asks my love, he shall have it." 
 
 The little door behind her autocrat's back is open- 
 ing the one to the right. A dark-frocked, red-eyed 
 woman, of herculean figure and forbidding mien, is 
 entering. 
 
 " Oh, madre di Dio ! Give me time, and I will go 
 into the fire to discover ! " shrieks Eugenia, sinking on 
 her knees. 
 
 " Then, ten days ! " he says, shortly, and, waving his 
 hand, the woman silently disappears. 
 
 Raising la contessa politely, Bolza remarks : " If not 
 before, in ten days I shall expect Madame. In case you 
 have to write your information, address me, as usual, to 
 the hand of Enrico Donetto. And, mark me, under no 
 circumstances permit Da Messina to guess he is sus-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2OI 
 
 pected, or know that you are my agent ; " adding, 
 with a smile that makes her tremble : " Empfehle mich 
 Ihnen ! " and, with this suave, Austrian, diplomatic 
 phrase, sounds another bell, and has his shivering cul- 
 prit spy shown out, metaphorically scourged to her 
 work. 
 
 Glancing after Eugenia, Bolza remarks : " Verflucht! 
 In her despair she'll find out something for me! If 
 the arms are coming that way? Yet I should be 
 sorry ; I hate to slay so fine a voice. Mein Gott, how 
 beautifully this Pergolese sang ' Ernani ' at La Scala 
 the last time I listened to him ! Oh, it is hard to have 
 an artistic soul, and to be Minister of Police in Italy ! 
 If you haven't got a singer under your hands, you have 
 a painter, sculptor, or composer. Verdammt! There 
 are too many artists who call themselves patriots in 
 Lombard y and Venetia! Just the same, that little, 
 trembling criminal, la contessa, is frightened enough to 
 walk into Hades to get this tenor's secret, if he has 
 any." 
 
 Quite curiously, just about this time, the lady of 
 Bolza's words has determined to place herself in a posi- 
 tion that will be Hades to her haughty, yet pernicious, 
 spirit, to gain a secret she imagines Pergolese holds. 
 
 " If I can get information that permits Austria to 
 seize arms coming to these conspirators, Bolza must 
 pardon me ! " she falters ; then reflects, rapidly : " An 
 hour a day to call upon Estelle, for ten days; that 
 will be all I'll have ten hours! Interrupted by other 
 visitors that Austrian officer, for instance I shall 
 have neither time nor opportunity to reach the bottom 
 of my jealous bound-girl's heart. But with her every 
 day alone together a member like herself of Pergo- 
 lese's artistic family " 
 
 She is passing the Rebecchino. Glancing up, she 
 chances to see through one of its lighted windows Da 
 Messina and Radetzky, chatting over their dinner. 
 
 " A light-hearted, easy-going young fellow, that Aus- 
 trian ! " thinks la contessa ; then studies his compan-
 
 2O2 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 ion's face more carefully. " He doesn't look so very 
 awful," she half laughs. " And yet Estelle's cries were 
 very piteous that night! But since then he has been 
 kind enough to the minx, even better than she de- 
 served." Then her brow contracts, as if contemplat- 
 ing some unpleasant proposition. She shudders : " O 
 Madre Doloroso! I hate to give anyone such absolute 
 power over me; to throw myself in the dust before 
 him ; to bind my will to his ! But it is that or Bolza, 
 and I will take the chance." 
 
 And an idea, that has been drifting in and out of 
 the subtle brain of the lady, assuming exact form, she 
 kisses her hand mockingly toward Pergolese, and mur- 
 murs, imitating Estelle's caress: "Mio padrone!" then, 
 laughing, calls a cab and drives to her hotel to make 
 her preparations for the morrow. 
 
 The two young men Eugenia has been inspecting are 
 seated quite comfortably over a very elaborate dinner 
 in the restaurant almost across the Via Margherita from 
 the Austrian Office of Police ; for Franz's hospitality is 
 boundless for this Italian he considers his preserver. 
 
 Their meal has been a pleasant one. They have con- 
 versed as intimates on every subject but politics. Ra- 
 detzky now brings up the subject of his introduction 
 to Sophie Olinska, whom he seems very anxious to 
 meet. " Ach Gott, she is beautiful as a dream ! " he 
 cries. " Three evenings ago I heard her as ' Linda.' 
 How prettily innocent she looked as a Swiss peasant 
 girl!" 
 
 At this suggestion of Sophie's innocence, Da Mes- 
 sina stifles a grin, for the lady under discussion is 
 generally considered as astute and naughty a sinner 
 as ever stepped the opera boards, and that's saying 
 sufficient for any woman. Apparently not very eager 
 in the matter, the Italian asks : " You are very anxious 
 to meet her, Franz ? " 
 
 " Great heavens, mein freund! It is the wish of my 
 existence! " cries the German. 
 
 At this, Carlo considers a moment, and then, as if
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 203 
 
 making up his mind to a line of action, says : " In 
 that case, I will do it for you." 
 
 " Thank you a thousand times, my comrade ! From 
 the boxes I have grown to love the lady. It is an 
 agreement. We will some evening give her a pretty, 
 little entertainment ! " cries the Austrian, and thus set- 
 tles a matter in which Da Messina is by no means anx- 
 ious to engage. 
 
 Half divining Estelle is still jealous of the beautiful 
 prima donna, Carlo doesn't wish to give the heart he 
 loves a single pang. Still, with the confidence of man, 
 he thinks, lightly : " Pish ! My little darling will never 
 know ! Besides, I now care no more for Olinska 
 than she does for me which is nothing. Then intro- 
 ducing Franz to Sophie will be such a graceful retire- 
 ment." 
 
 As Pergolese reflects, the young Austrian officer 
 breaks hastily in : "I know it seems strange to you 
 that I, Captain Radetzky, on the Governor's staff, living 
 at the Palazzo Reale, have not yet obtained introduc- 
 tion to a prima donna of the opera." 
 
 "' Not at all," replies Carlo. " It is because you are 
 what you are that social success in Milan is so diffi- 
 cult to you. But I think I can arrange the matter to 
 you liking. La belle Sophie is a Pole. Had she 
 been Italian, the affair, in the unfortunate attitude the 
 Milanese bear to those wearing Austrian uniforms had 
 been well-nigh impossible.* But my little fete to la 
 diva on the first convenient evening, will give you your 
 opportunity, and I wish you every success." 
 
 " You you are not in love with her, you are sure? " 
 asks Franz, rather dubiously, for he has heard many 
 stories of Pergolese and Olinska. 
 
 " Not the slightest ! " laughs Da Messina. " Madame 
 Gerome, our second contralto, is a French woman, and 
 
 *" No social intercourse took place between the Austrians and the nobility. 
 Milan society was gay and brilliant, but if any Austrian officer or official was 
 admitted to a ball at the house of a Milanese nobleman, his host knew well 
 that he would have to retire to his country-seat, as none of his friends in 
 Milan would continue to visit him." Vide^ Italy in the Nineteenth Century. 
 ED.
 
 2O4 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 very agreeable company. She'll be happy, I have little 
 doubt, to complete the quartet of our supper. After 
 that, from your Vienna experience, my gallant, I im- 
 agine you know the way to a lady's heart." 
 
 About this time, they having reached their cheese 
 and coffee, Radetzky, producing a cigar-case, says : " It 
 is impossible at present to get decent cigars in this 
 town. Francesci, down below, snarls at me when I 
 order them, though I have been his very good customer. 
 Permit me to offer you a very fine Havana, imported by 
 my uncle, who is rather a connoisseur in these matters." 
 
 But the cavaliere, conquering an awful longing, says, 
 stoutly : " My dear fellow, permit me to refuse it." 
 
 " Gott in Himmel! You smoked like a steam engine 
 in Lyons ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but in Milan of course you understand if 
 I were seen smoking here Diavolo! I don't think the 
 gallery at La Scala would let me sing on Sunday 
 night ! " half jeers Pergolese, a kind of reflective mis- 
 ery upon his face. He is thinking : " If twelve hours' 
 abstinence gives me the longing of Tantalus, what will 
 my sufferings be to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Well, since you won't smoke, neither will I ! " 
 laughs Franz. " The way I should enjoy this Bouquet 
 de la Reina would torture you." With the instinct of 
 a gentleman and a host, Radetzky replaces the cigars in 
 his case, and then speaks more seriously : " I know, 
 Carlo, what you sacrifice in being comrade to one who 
 wears my uniform. Your relatives and friends will 
 probably think you half Austrian. Did you notice, at 
 the office of the diligence, how those fellows who were 
 bowing to you ; as they saw me embrace you, suddenly 
 put on their hats, and growled out: ' Traditore!' and 
 ' A basso Pergolese ' ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand that thoroughly," replies Da 
 Messina. Then, following an audacious policy he had 
 outlined for himself, the effects of which were to be 
 even more potent than he guesses, he adds : " But I 
 prefer your friendship, my dear fellow, to the adula-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2O5 
 
 tions of those patriots who fawn on me one moment 
 and would stone me the next ! " 
 
 " Yes, hang the canaille, how they frightened your 
 little Estelle! She seems to have a great esteem for 
 you. You think the little maiden will be happy here? " 
 
 " Yes. The only thing I fear is that, situated as she 
 must be, Estelle may be lonely," returns Da Messina, 
 sadly. " That came to me as I left her this evening. 
 She is in a great, big house, and no one near her she 
 would care to make companion." 
 
 " We will all call upon mademoiselle when she is 
 not busy at her singing. Madame la Comtesse, who 
 seems very fond of her, says she will visit Estelle on 
 the hour you permit to-morrow," goes on the genial 
 German, and innocently puts a pleasant nail in Eu- 
 genia's coffin. 
 
 As he speaks, he catches Da Messina stifling a yawn, 
 and, springing up, says : " Forgive me ! Mein Gott, I 
 am keeping you up with my chatter ! I forgot you had 
 been traveling in a diligence all night. Please remem- 
 ber your promise as to Sophie, auf widersehen, mein 
 lieber freund!" With this, embracing his companion, 
 the young officer goes clattering down the stairs. 
 
 As Franz's military spurs ring upon the polished, 
 oaken steps, the conspirator, from very fatigue, almost 
 staggers to his chamber. 
 
 He had slept little the night before in the diligence, 
 likewise he had hardly touched pillow in Genoa; for, 
 while Eugenia thought him in his room, he had been in 
 consultation all through the night with the agents of 
 the Patriot Committee. 
 
 But, after getting to his bed, though exhausted na- 
 ture demands her meed, Carlo is restless. Tossing on 
 his pillow, he wonders what the deuce is the matter 
 with him, then suddenly yawns : " Corpo di di Bac 
 cho, I know ! I'd give my head for just one one 
 whiff of a qigar ! " 
 
 Then, to forget the weed, he begins to think of his 
 sweetheart. " If I could give my darling my compan-
 
 206 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 ionship, she would be content," he sighs. " But in this 
 tremendous epoch, with so much upon me, I fear she'll 
 think I neglect her, and become lonely almost to home- 
 sickness." 
 
 On the morrow, as he surmises, even greater events 
 than he expected keep him from Estelle. It is the 8th 
 of March, and Count O'Donnel, an Irish soldier of for- 
 tune in the Austrian service and Vice-Governor of 
 Lombardy, announces the Emperor's concessions to the 
 Milanese; and these not being at all to their liking, 
 Pergolese, together with their other leaders, has an all- 
 day's work to keep the town from rising, while as yet 
 they have no arms for patriot hands. 
 
 Occupied by this duty, which is more arduous be- 
 cause every movement must be made secretly, Da Mes- 
 sina does not reach the Via Oriani till seven in the 
 evening. 
 
 Admitted by the porter into the courtyard, he strides 
 up the great, stone stairway, and walks through the big, 
 bare, cheerless halls of the old palazzo to the parlor of 
 his betrothed. Here, though the lamps are lighted, the 
 fire burning brightly, and all very comfortable and 
 cheerful, he finds a white-robed child-Niobe seated on 
 a sofa, with Italian grammar fallen from her hand, and 
 eyes red, voice husky, and cheeks pale and tear-stained. 
 
 " San Marco! " he snarls. " Has anyone dared to be 
 unkind to thee? " 
 
 " None have been unkind to me but but you! " she 
 sobs. " I I was crying because you came not to me." 
 
 " You received my bouquet and note? " 
 
 " Yes yes ! But they were not you ! " Then her 
 eyes grow bright at his caresses ; and she pleads : " No 
 lesson for a little while, padrone mio! " and laughs : " I 
 will be a tyrant to you ! A child in public, L demand a 
 child's rights in private." 
 
 With this, pulling him to an armchair, she makes 
 him seat himself in it, and nestles on his knee. " Yes," 
 she goes on, " everyone came to give me lessons except 
 you; though " here she laughs a little, for in his pres-
 
 ADRIfiNNE DE PORTALlS. 2O7 
 
 ence she has regained her spirits " they all thought 
 me such a precocious child. Mother Vicenza and the 
 fencing-master declared I was wonderfully developed 
 for my tender age; and Madame Pacini, when I de- 
 claimed to her, said that I had the passion of a woman ; 
 and I I think so, too ! " She nestles her blushing 
 head against Da Messina's shoulder, and clasps him 
 with her tender arms very tightly. " Yes, all came to 
 me but you. And now you say I have spoiled my voice 
 by tears ! " She looks archly at him, and pouts : " You 
 are bad-tempered, my non-smoking patriot ! " then adds, 
 in a sneaking whisper : " But I have an antidote for 
 nervous, nicotine irritability." 
 
 With this, she points a white finger to the mantel- 
 piece, and Da Messina sees a little glass containing 
 three tinfoiled cylinders that horrify him, for they seem 
 to him cigars! 
 
 He puts her out of his arms, and springs to the 
 mantelpiece. A single sniff at them, and he turns upon 
 Estelle, growling : " Don't dare to tempt me ! " 
 
 " Pish ! You needn't look so fiercely at me ! " she 
 laughs. " You can smoke these, and still be a patriot ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 Her lips speak to his ear : " Those paid no duty to 
 the Austrian crown." 
 
 " What in Heaven do you mean? " 
 
 " I mean that when you told me in Genoa that cigars 
 which had paid no tribute were no harm to patriots, I 
 said : 'A little present to mio padrone, when lack of nico- 
 tine in his system makes him too savage with his bound- 
 girl.' That's why I grabbed those six pieces of gold out 
 of your purse." Then, in faltering tones, with appeal- 
 ing gestures, and apologetic manner, the dainty smug- 
 gler, with one or two subdued snickers, whispers to Da 
 Messina of her evasion of the Austrian duties. 
 
 To this he listens, his face growing pale, and, as 
 she closes, says, in anxious voice : " If they had caught 
 you, child, a year's imprisonment ! " Then, this touch- 
 ing his heart, as it would that of any smoker deprived
 
 2O8 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 of what he loves, Da Messina looks at her very lovingly, 
 and asks : " And you took this risk for my sake, little 
 one?" 
 
 " Oh, I'd risk my life for you, and you know it! " 
 she whispers, stoutly. " But if you want to show your 
 gratitude, please smoke just just a whiff, to make 
 me know I am forgiven. Expecting thee, I have 
 pulled down the blinds, and have put paper wads in 
 the keyholes. No one shall think Pergolese aught but 
 a patriot; and yet he shall have the pleasures of an 
 Austrian tyrant." 
 
 " Girl, do not tempt me ! " he says, very sternly. " If 
 anyone should see me, I would be disgraced forever 
 with my kindred and my nation. I have taken enough 
 upon myself in being friend to Franz." 
 
 But, as he speaks, he paces up and down before the 
 cigars, like a shark about his prey, and a smiling fairy 
 archly watches him. 
 
 Finally he picks one up. 
 
 " If he gets real scent of it, he is lost ! " she chuckles ; 
 and, springing to his side, pulls off the tinfoil that 
 keeps the aroma from his nostrils. " It's a beauty, isn't 
 it ? I'll I'll bite the end off it for thee ! " 
 
 " Quick ! Sing for me thy exercise ! " he commands, 
 as if to fight away the temptation. 
 
 " Yes, but first I'll bite the end off," she laughs ; and 
 does so. " That ought to taste very sweet to a lover," 
 she remarks, placing it in Pergolese's hand. Then, 
 stepping to the piano, Estelle trills the notes out like 
 a canary bird. 
 
 As she finishes, "Bravo! Bravo! BRAVISSIMO ! " 
 is whispered behind her ear, accompanied by three puffs 
 of smoke, which, coming over her white shoulder, float 
 out in rings before her. 
 
 " I knew it ! " she cries, clapping her hands. " You 
 would never praise me like that unless tobacco had 
 taken the bear out of you ! " 
 
 " Diavolo, it was from very force of habit ! " he says, 
 sheepishly. " As I listened, I forgot all else except thy
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 glorious voicf." But here he puffs another ring or two 
 out of his mouth, and whispers, with hoarse eagerness : 
 " How many boxes ? " 
 
 " Excuse me you are killing me with laughter ! " 
 
 " How many boxes ? " 
 
 " Two boxes ninety-five cigars. I broke the other 
 five by sitting on them, when you drove me wild by 
 saying I was vain of of my ankles. Old Mother Vi- 
 cenza, as I danced to-day, said but never mind what 
 old Vicenza said," she mumbles, getting very red in 
 the face. " There are only ninety-five I mean ninety- 
 four Gracious, how fast you smoked it ! " 
 
 " Ninety- four ! Twelve days from now ! " mutters 
 Carlo, consideringly. " Then there are enough ! " 
 
 At this, Estelle, who has a very quick wit, remember- 
 ing when the English tradesman was to deliver the 
 arms, begins to tremble ; but Da Messina, who is now 
 fondling another cigar, doesn't notice it, and remarks : 
 " I'd like, if I dared, to give away some of these to 
 poor Manara. Luciano is so miserable he sneaks off 
 to the country, and smokes bark in his despair a de- 
 spair from which you have kept me, my dear, thought- 
 ful one!" 
 
 " Well, since you are amiable and normal again, 
 please light that other cigar, while I ask you a favor. 
 I I am very lonely here 
 
 " Yes yes ! " he breaks in. " I sometimes feared 
 that might be " 
 
 " The days would seem short were you always by 
 me," she remarks. " But I know that is impossible 
 now. Well, the day went quite well for me, until four 
 o'clock. I worked hard at my lessons. My instructors 
 came regularly all but one! Eugenia came, and 
 Franz. But Franz went in fifteen minutes or so. He 
 said there had been a great commotion in the streets. I 
 think the Austrian officers are much worried at the at- 
 titude of the populace." 
 
 " Yes yes ! But your favor ? " 
 
 " Eugenia stayed with me the hour that you permit,
 
 210 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 and when she went away, I waited for you and waited 
 for you ; and oh, how dreary this great, deserted house 
 felt to me, where I am treated like a princess, and envy 
 the chattering ballet-girls of old Vicenza, as they romp 
 about up-stairs ; who, though they sometimes squeal un- 
 der their padrona's cane, seem to me to be as merry as 
 their tongues are long ! " 
 
 " Yes but this favor? " 
 
 " Now, Eugenia has been very unfortunate, and to- 
 morrow will have something to ask. If you grant it, 
 it will be more than a favor to me. When she asks 
 you, think of my loneliness. She has already had a 
 chat with Mother Vicenza, who says she'll make a 
 graceful dancer." 
 
 " What enigma is on thy pretty lips ? " Estelle has 
 come out with Da Messina to say adieu in the hallway. 
 
 " Signora di Vilermo wishes to be your apprentice, 
 and I wish it, too ! " 
 
 At this extraordinary suggestion Carlo emits a pro- 
 longed and astonished whistle, and after a moment re- 
 marks : " You desire a maid ? " 
 
 " No, a companion. Under this arrangement, Eu- 
 genia would be no bar to our tete-d-tctes. She could 
 learn dancing under Vicenza, and I could have her near 
 me when I pleased. She has been ruined by those hor- 
 rid Magyar patriots. She is almost, Carlo Mon Dieu f 
 destitute. You told her you would permit no woman 
 to be intimate with me, unless you controlled her ac- 
 tions. You see, I promised to plead her cause for her. 
 Now I'll wipe your mustache with a little cologne, so 
 you can have the breath of a patriot," she laughs. " Go 
 and ask Paola, and see if Eugenia will cost you money." 
 
 So he strolls carelessly away to the room of Madre 
 Vicenza, where he queries : " Can you so arrange her 
 exercises that the lady coming to you to-day, to ask 
 your advice as to dancing, can be taken to Estelle when- 
 ever she desires her company? " 
 
 " Of course I can," replies Paola. " Only you get 
 that beauty for me. She has been wonderfully taught
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. ' 211 
 
 in early youth. Diavolo, with my training, in a week I 
 can make her a coryphee; in a month, a secondo; in a 
 year the devil knows what ! For she will look so 
 pretty in dancing togs that half the gallants in Italy 
 will be running after her." 
 
 Returning from this to Estelle, who has been waiting 
 for him in the hallway, she asks, anxiously : " Can't 
 you arrange the matter? " 
 
 " Perhaps ! I'll think about it." 
 
 " Then remember this," she says to him, quite plead- 
 ingly ; " if you grant Eugenia's plea, you will not find 
 me in tears when you come next time, which will be 
 soon, I imagine, as I have cigars within my house. 
 Won't you light one to smoke as you go home ? " 
 
 " Gran Dio! I should be mobbed in the street! " 
 
 " But they are very fine ones, anyway ! Eugenia 
 helped me smuggle them. That should make you grate- 
 ful to her. Think of that when she asks, and don't 
 imagine Estelle will not like it, for she will, and will 
 give you a lot of kisses for it and cigars!" This last 
 is a whisper, as she tears herself from Da Messina's 
 arms, and runs back into the parlor. 
 
 " Cospetto I Eugenia helped my darling smuggle ! " 
 laughs the conspirator, as he paces home through the 
 excited streets of this Italian city getting ready for re- 
 volt. " Besides, Estelle likes la contessa. This, in her 
 loneliness, may be a good arrangement for her." 
 
 These considerations make him quite pliable to the 
 Austrian spy when she calls upon Da Messina the fol- 
 lowing morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SOME CURIOUS NEWS FROM ENGLAND. 
 
 At nine o'clock the next morning, il Cavaliere da 
 Messina is seated at his breakfast table, languidly look- 
 ing over some journals, local and foreign. Under a 
 strict censorship, the Milan newspapers contain but little
 
 212 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 of interest ; but an item in a late Paris Figaro, which 
 has come quite rapidly via Geneva, makes Pergolese, 
 after a hearty laugh, -remark, sotto voce: " This will 
 amuse my darling ! " and places the paper carefully in 
 his pocket. 
 
 While doing this, a little, perfumed note is brought in 
 to him by his valet. The handwriting is feminine, but 
 unknown to him. 
 
 As Da Messina inspects it rather superciliously for 
 billets doux are common to this idol of the Italian 
 stage his servitor remarks : " This came here, Sig- 
 nore, from Madre Vicenza's by Josepha." 
 
 Ah, then, how quickly the scented envelope is opened ! 
 How lovingly the epistle of his betrothed is scanned! 
 It is very brief, and reads : 
 
 " CARLO Mio : I was so lonely again all last night 
 that I want to remind you to say ' Yes,' if possible, to 
 Eugenia's coming petition. Don't think I will be jeal- 
 ous for I won't. I know only one has your heart 
 and that is your ESTELLE. 
 
 " P. S. I nearly signed another name. Mon Dieu, 
 how thy love has changed this world for me ! " 
 
 This is the first letter he has ever had from his sweet- 
 heart. He inspects the pretty, feminine, French hand 
 in which it is written, and, after fondling it a little, 
 places it carefully among his treasures, and sits lazily 
 contemplating the pretty parlor of his suite of apart- 
 ments in the Hotel Rebecchino. An entrance, draped 
 with tapestry, gives a glimpse of his comfortable bed- 
 room. Immediately in the rear of this is a small writ- 
 ing-room. The whole place has that peculiar artistic 
 abandon which denotes the careless ease of a bachelor 
 and a bohemian. 
 
 A few pictures, all of them very fine, adorn the walls 
 of the rooms. Three or four bronzes and statuettes, 
 masterpieces in their way, are scattered about. Upon 
 a marqueterie cabinet lie two or three daguerreotypes 
 and a few miniatures, mostly of beautiful women. A 
 musical library is indicated by bookshelves holding
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2 1 3 
 
 the bound scores of nearly all important operas, includ- 
 ing even Gliick and his rival, Piccini. Lots of sheet 
 music is also en evidence; likewise the part of " Ed- 
 gardo," that Pergolese is recovering for next Sunday 
 evening. 
 
 The whole is presided over by one Francisco Anto- 
 nelli, Da Messina's factotum, a Tuscan of middle age 
 and precise demeanor. Though Antonelli is Italian to 
 his heart's core, Carlo has not dared to take him to 
 France, considering the very peculiar and critical busi- 
 ness that has been almost the sole object of his visit to 
 that country. 
 
 Just at this moment, this servitor brings in la Con- 
 tessa di Vilermo's card. 
 
 " You seem in better spirits than yesterday morning, 
 maestro" remarks the valet, as he presents the salver to 
 his master. 
 
 " Yes, I am more buoyant," replies Carlo, cheerfully, 
 pausing between the bars of one of " Edgardo's " ca- 
 denzas ; very well knowing that it is not only last even- 
 ing's smoke, but the certainty of a coming one this 
 evening, that makes his spirits so good. Then he cheer- 
 fully commands : " Send her up at once! " 
 
 One minute after, Eugenia di Vilermo stands before 
 him. A distracted pleading is on her spirituelle face. 
 Aware of the potency of woman's beauty, though her 
 manner is distraught, her toilet is simple but becoming. 
 A neat hat tops the waving bands of her lustrous hair. 
 A plain, black, velvet robe outlines each contour of her 
 svelte, graceful, yet almost voluptuous, form ; its bodice 
 very tightly laced, its skirts sweeping almost in train to 
 the floor. 
 
 As Pergolese rises to cordially greet her, she tenders 
 him a low, sweeping, and humble courtesy. He polite- 
 ly motions her to a seat ; but she, still standing, speaks 
 very eagerly : " I thank you for receiving me, Signore. 
 I would not have troubled you, but I am in serious finan- 
 cial difficulty. You have heard of this from Estelle. 
 In the goodness of her heart, she promised to speak for
 
 214 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 me. I find myself penniless, in a strange city. This 
 Hungarian matter " her voice becomes a whisper 
 " has already broken out " 
 
 "Santo Gennaro! Do you think so?" The spasm 
 of joy that runs over Da Messina's face makes Eugenia 
 certain this man has a distinct hope in Austria's mili- 
 tary embarrassment. 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of it. It has ruined me ! " she says, 
 despairingly; then goes on, hurriedly and eagerly: 
 " Please please let me explain, to you my awfui 
 strait ! " 
 
 " Very well. But first take a chair, Madame la Com- 
 tesse," remarks Pergolese, affably; and listens, half 
 abstractedly, to her tale of financial woe and statement 
 of how the Hungarian uprising has brought absolute 
 ruin to her very small property ; that her agents have 
 refused not only to send her more money, but have de- 
 manded repayment for what they have already ad- 
 vanced. From this, she goes into an account of how 
 quickly Madre Vicenza says she can make her a dan- 
 seuse; adding, very humbly, but very earnestly : " You 
 have heard my petition from Estelle. I already know 
 that you will not accept anyone as her companion whose 
 actions you can not completely control." 
 
 " Yes," he replies. " In the present aspect of affairs, 
 that is quite impossible." 
 
 " Yes yes, I understand that," she answers, her 
 voice very earnest. " But please please pardon a re- 
 quest, prompted by the desperate nature of my circum- 
 stances. I have scarce enough to pay my hotel bill, and 
 God knows what I will do ! " Tears come into her 
 expressive eyes. " Therefore, I I " agitation seems 
 to conquer her " I pray you take me as your appren- 
 tice ! Paola assures me that my services can be made 
 valuable shortly. I place myself in your hands, Signore 
 Pergolese. I know it is unusual for one who has passed 
 her majority ; but I am still very young. Have my 
 indentures to you drawn up, and I will sign them, and 
 become most obedient and docile to your authority."
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 21$ 
 
 Her very eagerness might give Carlo suspicion, but 
 he has no distrust of her. He remembers that this 
 woman aided his sweetheart to smuggle. " Therefore, 
 if she is not one of us, she is no Austrian," he reflects. 
 The only thing of which he feared discovery the im- 
 portation of the arms is all arranged, and now out of 
 his hands. But he forgets that nothing is achieved 
 until it is finished. 
 
 " To be candid with you, Madame," he replies, " the 
 great, and practically the only, reason why I consider 
 your plea, which will give me some responsibility and 
 trouble, is because your company will be, I hope, an 
 antidote to the great loneliness of Estelle, who is cut 
 off so much from society, living almost by herself in 
 that great, deserted house ; for I have no time nor wish 
 for training debutantes. If I accept your offer, you 
 will be taken to my ward at her demand ; and while 
 with her you will render to her the same service and 
 obedience you give to me." 
 
 This mention of being ruled by one she considers a 
 chit of a girl is a bitter pill to the haughty contessa ; but 
 she gulps it down, answering, very humbly : " Yes, Sig- 
 nore; any command from Estelle, as you wish, shall 
 be my law." 
 
 " As to your dancing education, your training and 
 discipline in that matter will be entirely at the hands of 
 Madre Vicenza ; I shall take no part in it," remarks Da 
 Messina. " But, if I know anything about this lady's 
 methods, your lot will be a hard one. You have con- 
 sidered the matter, I presume, and understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes of course I know Mother Vicenza has 
 a cane." Here la contessa blushes and winces a little in 
 thought of that dread implement; then says, rapidly, to 
 conceal her embarrassment : " Oh, I am quite well 
 aware of what is before me ! Did I not once live in a 
 house where four musical phenomena slaved for a stern 
 padronaf " 
 
 Despite herself, a tinge of bitterness is in Madame 
 Intrigante's voice ; though all the time she is thinking :
 
 2l6 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " But a week or two of this humility ! When I deliver 
 this conspirator to Bolza's justice, I release myself from 
 the trammels of both padrone and police." 
 
 " Very well ! " And Da Messina paces up and down 
 the room once or twice, she watching him eagerly, wist- 
 fully. For if this man grants her petition, Signora di 
 Vilermo is quite certain that, admitted to intimacy with 
 his ward, she will, in some unguarded moment, obtain 
 the evidence that Bolza demands. If Pergolese refuses, 
 she has little hope of escaping an Austrian dungeon. 
 And two precious days of the ten allowed her by Bolza 
 are already gone! 
 
 The terrible anxiety of her face makes Da Messina 
 sure Eugenia's financial strait must be very dire. 
 
 Then he pauses before her, and her heart sinks. He 
 says : " I advise you not to place yourself in a condition 
 which will crush your pride. Vicenza is very severe. 
 Believe me, I pity you." And, his generous hand pro- 
 ducing gold, drives the spy to despair. 
 
 " No, no ! " she pleads, desperately. " I I could 
 never pay you back ! It is the only way I can earn an 
 honest living." 
 
 But here she gives a quick gasp of relief, and has to 
 struggle to keep her face from suspicious exultation; 
 for he is saying to her in the easy familiarity of pa- 
 drone's command : " Eugenia, I accept your service." 
 
 " Oh, God thank you, Signore ! " La contessa imme- 
 diately rises, and stands respectfully before him. 
 
 " Go at once to your hotel, and pay your bill. Have 
 you money enough for that ? " 
 
 " Not by a few florins, Signore," she answers ; for 
 she is too wary to destroy her pleaded impecuniosity by 
 an overflowing purse. 
 
 " Then here's the money necessary." He hands her 
 a couple of gold pieces. " From the Bretagne send at 
 once your luggage to Madre Vicenza ; then return di- 
 rectly here " he glances at her velvet robe, and adds 
 " properly garbed for your new station. I will have 
 the notary draw up your papers ; when you have signed
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 217 
 
 them, you will be immediately sent to Mother Vicenza." 
 His tone is affable, but commanding. 
 
 " Yes ! " she answers : " I understand ! I thank you, 
 mio padrone ! " and, for the first time giving to him 
 the title of her servitude, courtesies to the very floor; 
 and so passes out, quite humbly. But, as Eugenia 
 closes the door, a look of triumph illumines her mobile 
 face, giving it an unholy radiance, as she thinks : " At 
 last, I've got my chance! " 
 
 Less than an hour afterward, as Carlo is sitting with 
 a notary in his parlor, a very handsome woman comes 
 in to them. She is plainly garbed in a frock of dark 
 blue stuff, that fits her handsome figure accurately. It 
 is entirely without furbelows or trimmings, save a slight 
 ruffle at the neck and wrists. Her luxuriant hair is 
 braided modestly into two demure tails, which are tied 
 with ribbon of the same color as her gown, the skirt of 
 which falls just below the tops of two perfectly fitting, 
 high-heeled Polish bottines, that tightly laced to mid- 
 way between ankle and knee outline the symmetry of 
 perfect feet and superb limbs. 
 
 She courtesies quite humbly to Da Messina, and like- 
 wise to the notary ; and then is motioned to a chair. 
 
 Whereupon, after a few minutes, the document being 
 completed, at the request of the official, Eugenia, rising, 
 takes her oath of apprenticeship ; and, signing the ar- 
 ticles of indenture with great rejoicing in her heart, 
 gives herself, with all the formality of Italian municipal 
 law, to a seven years' vassalage. 
 
 The notary has departed. The bound-girl is stand- 
 ing before her padrone, her blue eyes darkened, as if 
 by the sadness of her fate ; for she is playing her role 
 very well. The innate beauty of her drooping pose ap- 
 peals to Da Messina's artistic taste. At this moment, 
 la contessa has both his sympathy and esteem ; when, 
 by one false step, the intrigante tosses these away. 
 
 Wishing to cheer this exquisite woman who, com- 
 pelled by poverty, has given to him her liberty, Carlo 
 remarks, cordially and admiringly : " Eugenia, you have
 
 2l8 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 one thing in your favor you will make a magnificent 
 appearance on the stage." 
 
 " Thank Heaven you think so, my kind-hearted maes- 
 tro ! " she answers, a veiled petition in her blue eyes. 
 
 " Per Baccho, I do ! " he laughs ; adding, with pa- 
 drone's freedom : " Your face is beautiful ; your form 
 is perfect as a Hebe's ! " 
 
 These words of encouragement prompt Eugenia to a 
 dire mistake. 
 
 Having gained entrance to Pergolese's privacy, and 
 chance of intimacy with the girl she guesses holds his 
 secrets, this lady, who is by nature both languid and 
 luxurious, no longer wishes the hard discipline and un- 
 ceasing exercise that will fall upon Mother Vicenza's 
 dancing-girl. 
 
 Therefore, believing Estelle is Da Messina's mistress, 
 and thinking, " If I gain my autocrat's favor, I shall 
 have the same luxuries and liberties of that pampered 
 minx ! " she steps to him, appealingly, and suddenly 
 seizing his hand in both of hers, after one quick glance 
 of coquetry, murmurs, in tempting bashfulness : " Now, 
 I I presume, padrone mio, if I am very obedient and 
 nice to you, I shall be petted by you almost as you 
 caress Estelle, though I am bigger than she, and can 
 not be carried about and dandled on your knee so 
 easily." 
 
 Her last words die away in a flutter ; for, even as she 
 speaks, Eugenia's acute senses tell her she has made a 
 dismal error. From this time on, Pergolese's manner 
 to her changes. 
 
 " Of course not ! " he says, in sharpest sternness ; 
 adding, as if in excuse for his partiality : " Estelle paid 
 for my instruction fifteen thousand francs, and is about 
 to become famous. Understand this, my relations to 
 her are most honorable." 
 
 Then, resenting this insidious attack upon his faith 
 to his betrothed, who, in the innocence of her heart, has 
 pleaded for this woman, who now assaults her happi- 
 ness, he says in low tones that frighten his flirtatious
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 219 
 
 apprentice : " Now, mark me ! I shall simply give to 
 you the care your indentures require from me : but I 
 shall also govern you rigorously. So be very careful. 
 If I detect you in disobedience, deceit, or light conduct, 
 I shall make you tremble." For Carlo now guesses 
 that Eugenia has all of these within her frivolous head. 
 
 Having lost his respect for her, and therefore much 
 of his interest in her, and anxious to get the matter 
 through, he continues brusquely to la contessa, who is 
 hanging her head, trying to look docile : " Now, I will 
 take you to Madre Vicenza." 
 
 His hand is on the bell-rope, when Antonelli, entering, 
 says : " Signer Zerconi begs to be announced. From 
 his face, I fear he has some ugly news." 
 
 " Oh, the manager of La Scala ! Show him up ! " 
 remarks Pergolese ; and, his valet having departed, he 
 says : " Step this way, Eugenia ! " indicating that his 
 apprentice is to retire into his writing-room. 
 
 " At once ! " he commands ; for, not wishing to dis- 
 obey him, and increase his condemnation, yet eager 
 to know what bad news this gentleman brings, the lady- 
 spy, seems to linger in her movement. 
 
 The next instant, her languid steps are quickened ; la 
 contessa feels her delicate arm seized by the strong grasp 
 of authority. In a jiffy she is ignominiously marched 
 through his bedroom, and deliberately locked up in the 
 adjoining writing-room. 
 
 In this confinement, after a moment's furious rage, 
 forcing herself to philosophy, she thinks : " Pish ! 
 Why should I resent treatment I have brought upon 
 myself ? Besides, I have really gained my object. This 
 very room is forecast of my opportunity." 
 
 She looks about with the carefulness of an experi- 
 enced moitche, not for actual evidences of Da Messina's 
 conspiring she has no absurd hope of that but for 
 some little article which will help her cause. 
 
 There are many things she fears to move, as they 
 have grown dusty during their owner's absence in 
 France, indicating that Antonetti is a lazy fellow.
 
 220 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 But the waste basket has been in recent use! This 
 catches her quick eye. In an instant she is investigat- 
 ing it. Carelessly tossed into it, with some other desul- 
 tory correspondence a note from his impresario, an 
 offer from the San Carlo, in Naples, of an engagement 
 she finds a perfumed billet doux in a lady's hand. 
 Reading it easily, for it is torn only into four pieces, 
 she jeers : " The first implement to make Estelle hate 
 and betray our padrone ! " 
 
 For it is a note from the reigning prima donna, the 
 woman Carlo's sweetheart fears, Sophie Olinska, accept- 
 ing Pergolese's invitation to a supper on the coming 
 Monday, and also suggesting that on the same after- 
 noon, if fine, he drives with her in the Giardini Publica, 
 those pretty gardens that are the playground of the 
 Milanese. 
 
 " Diavolo ! La diva mentions Monday afternoon ! " 
 thinks la contessa. " If I can but show Da Messina 
 riding with his mistress to Estelle ! " 
 
 But in this the intrigante does Pergolese an injustice. 
 
 For Sophie, who has had half a dozen admirers dur- 
 ing his absence, has, upon his return, whispered to him : 
 " You desire to introduce this dashing Austrian captain 
 to me ? I have noticed by his attentions to me, his flow- 
 ers, and certain other hints of anonymous jewelry, that 
 he perchance wishes to be quite devoted to me. As 
 you, Carlo, give this little fete for the very purpose of 
 introducing him, I presume I shall very shortly see the 
 last of you. Please take your leave of me so that Milan 
 doesn't scoff me. One drive about the Corso, and then 
 when, on my next, another gentleman sits by my side, 
 the world will say " 
 
 " That I did not desert you but you me? With the 
 greatest pleasure in the world, Signorita Olinska ! " Per- 
 golese has replied, with a bow. And this note merely 
 mentions the afternoon la diva has selected. 
 
 This epistle being sufficient for Eugenia's purpose, 
 she hastily conceals it over a heart that beats with hope ; 
 and is quite happy when, after a few minutes of con-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 221 
 
 finement, her padrone, unlocking the door, calls her, 
 sternly, to him. 
 
 As she comes out to him, observing the mutiny upon 
 her delicate lips, he says, warningly : " You are, I fear, 
 about to make yourself much trouble, Eugenia. Mother 
 Vicenza will not, like me, excuse a reluctant disobedi- 
 ence. Prepare yourself, and I will take you to her." 
 
 La contessa's experience has been such that she hur- 
 riedly answers : " Yes, mio padrone," and makes hum- 
 ble courtesy. 
 
 As she drapes her skirt for the salute, her maestro 's 
 face, coldly critical, exhibits disapproval. " Peste! " he 
 says, grimly. " You are not arrayed for your station, 
 as I directed. Pearl, silken hose and tasseled boots, fit 
 to deck a princessa's limbs, on a dancing apprentice will 
 create some comment among the loungers about the 
 hotel." 
 
 " I I didn't think," she says, deprecatingly. 
 
 But he knows she did think ; and remarks, severely : 
 " Never dare to wear these in the street again ! Now 
 put on your wraps at once, and veil yourself closely ! " 
 and immediately leads his beautiful and coquettish ap- 
 prentice to a carriage. 
 
 Here, taking a seat opposite to her, as they drive off, 
 his words increase Eugenia's indignation. " I have al- 
 ready given half interest in your services to Madre Vi- 
 cenza," he remarks, " so that she will be most urgent in 
 your education. When Estelle sends for you, be careful 
 she does not report your inattention to her requests or 
 disregard of her directions to Madre Paola; for from 
 now on I shall probably see but little of you." 
 
 This practical refusal to give her any great personal 
 supervision is a slight to Eugenia's pride. " He has no 
 more consideration for me than for any apprentice pov- 
 erty might bring to him ! " she thinks, bitterly, and be- 
 gins to long for her padrone's undoing. Before, her 
 pursuit of Da Messina had been simply from the wish 
 to gain Bolza's pardon ; to this is now added a personal 
 hate, that gradually grows tremendous.
 
 222 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Her face is very pale, as her padrone assists her from 
 the carriage, and leads her up the big stairway. 
 
 But he is intercepted by light feet, and a joyous voice 
 cries : " Carlo mio, thank you for Eugenia ! " as Estelle 
 places the arm of affection about la contessa's waist. 
 
 Misconstruing this unfortunate phrase, the new 
 bound-girl thinks, bitterly : " ' Thank you for Eugenia ! ' 
 Diavolo, the chick imagines she owns me, too ! " And, 
 though she responds very sweetly to the favorite's kiss 
 of welcome, she includes Da Messina's betrothed in the 
 wormwood of her heart. 
 
 But now, with a quick, athletic rush, Paola comes 
 down to seize upon her prize. She says, cordially: 
 " Welcome, my child, to my home ! " but, after a mo- 
 ment, adds : " Run up-stairs, pet, at once. We'll have 
 you at your exercises very quickly. I shall make of 
 you a superb artiste before you think it ! " With this, 
 the strong-armed, strong-limbed, masculine dancing 
 mistress leads her new pupil away, and from this time 
 becomes Eugenia's autocrat. 
 
 On being so suddenly deprived of her companion's 
 company, Estelle pouts slightly ; but as they stand to- 
 gether in her parlor, Da Messina remarks : " You must 
 interfere as little as possible with Eugenia's training; 
 besides, my darling, you have your own studies to keep 
 you busy." 
 
 " Yes, Madame Pacini comes in a few minutes," re- 
 turns his betrothed ; but laughs : " I know my decla- 
 mation, so you've just time to kiss me." 
 
 As he takes her to his breast, the crumpling of the 
 newspaper reminds him. " Here is a curious rumor 
 from England in the Figaro," he remarks, and passes 
 the journal to her, pointing out the item, which reads : 
 " A passenger who has just arrived from Dover, Eng- 
 land, reports to us that the fugitive Baronne de Por- 
 talis was in that place when he left. This astute lady 
 of many crimes, it is said, escaped from France in the 
 suit of Louis Philippe. Like the flying king, who
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 223 
 
 called himself William Smith, she gave herself an 
 English name, and traveled as Bridget Jones." 
 
 Inspecting this peculiar output of Gallic journalism, 
 Estelle's face grows pale, and she trembles slightly; 
 but finding the arm of her protector about her waist, 
 and hearing a voice of which she is quite in awe, yet 
 loves with her whole soul, saying, tenderly, " Don't 
 fear ; no mouchard shall get my prize ! " her color re- 
 turns, and she remarks, naively : " Mon Dieu, the news- 
 papers will soon make me out as marvelously elusive a 
 criminal as Robert Macaire himself ! " 
 
 " Pish ! I know where to find Madame la Baronne 
 every time ! " laughs Da Messina. 
 
 And saluting his prize, he thinks no more of this 
 report, or several additional rumors of la Baronne de 
 Portalis, which come to him from time to time ; though 
 in the future crisis of his life these canards rise up be- 
 fore him, for a little time, big as Colossus ! 
 
 Therefore saying to his sweetheart that he will call 
 again at five, he goes away quite content, though he 
 leaves a most dangerous enemy behind him, not only 
 to himself, but one who will become an enemy to Estelle. 
 
 For shortly into Eugenia's heart enters a mean envy, 
 as she sees Da Messina's favorite, though taking her 
 studies, living with the luxury of a lady ; while she, who 
 but yesterday had sported a spurious title, after toiling 
 at the monotonous exercises of the dance enforced upon 
 her unremittingly by a stern taskmistress, lives in a little 
 garret-room, and fares no better than any of the other 
 dancing-girls of Madre Vicenza. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN WHISPER IN THE OPERA BOX. 
 
 Of this there is almost immediate evidence, though 
 Da Messina does not detect it. When he calls, in the 
 afternoon, Estelle, after greeting him very sweetly, im-
 
 224 ADRIENNE E PORTALIS. 
 
 mediately asks a favor : " Can't you take me to the opera 
 to-night ? I I have scarce been out of the house since 
 I came here." 
 
 " Certainly ! " he answers. Then, remembering the 
 bill, he queries, a tinge of embarrassment upon his. 
 face : " You know who sings ? " 
 
 " Certainly the beautiful Olinska ! That's one of the 
 reasons that I want to go ; I I would like to see her! " 
 
 " Very well," he says, pleasantly ; " I will take you. 
 Be dressed and ready. I will have a box for you, and 
 will call at a quarter to seven." 
 
 " Oh, thank you so much ! " Then she says, archly : 
 " In return, may I offer you a cigar? I'll darken the 
 rooms; I'll close the doors; I'll plug the keyholes! 
 Though after you have gone I must ventilate. I was a 
 little careless last evening, and this morning, when 
 Mother Paola came in, she sniffed about suspiciously ; 
 and then said, very savagely : ' French girl, do you 
 smoke accursed Austrian cigarettes ? ' ' No/ I stam- 
 mered ; ' but perhaps Pergolese may have lit a cigar.' 
 At this she cried : ' Basta, rogue, don't dare accuse that 
 patriot ! ' with such an awful snort of unbelief that I 
 had to run into my bedroom to avoid laughing in her 
 horrified face." 
 
 It does not take much cajoling to induce Carlo to 
 smoke a cigar, for which he has longed all day ; and, 
 soon after, he goes away to make arrangements for his 
 sweetheart's pleasure. 
 
 So, quite shortly, comes to Estelle a box of evening 
 gloves and a great bouquet ; and following these, at 
 the appointed time, Pergolese, to take his affianced to 
 the opera. 
 
 Dressed in the elaborate evening costume of the pe- 
 riod, with high, white silk stock; embossed velvet vest ; 
 dress-coat with immense bouffant tails; and dark 
 trousers, fitting tightly about his well-shaped legs 
 and strapped down over patent-leather pumps, and 
 silken stockings, her lover, as Estelle enters her parlor 
 to greet him, looks to her very much like a god.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 225 
 
 " You don't object," she murmurs, quite bashfully, 
 poking out a pretty foot in white, satin slipper from 
 under her white, silk jupe. " I lengthened this a little." 
 Then her eyes blaze, and she says, passionately : " When 
 I gaze at her, I want to feel I am a woman ! " 
 
 Pergolese knows quite well to whom Estelle refers, 
 but he has judgment to only reply to her question. 
 
 " Humph ! Yes," he says, meditatively, " the Aus- 
 trian officials will probably not notice that my appren- 
 tice of sixteen has grown two years older in a day ; but 
 please increase your age very gradually." Then his 
 eyes light up at his affianced's beauty, for she looks 
 more engaging in her maturity than in her childish- 
 ness, the simple, white frock, cut for evening wear, 
 giving him a view of exquisite womanhood in the del- 
 icately rounded bust and shapely arms. 
 
 " As I thought you would like to see the audience at 
 La Scala thoroughly, it being the biggest theater in 
 Italy, and knowing you brought no such thing from 
 France, permit me ! " he says, and, with lover's eager- 
 ness, tenders to his affianced a magnificent opera-glass, 
 of white ivory, mounted with gold. 
 
 " For me ? Oh, Carlo mio ! How beautiful ! How 
 exquisite ! " 
 
 Then, Mother Paola coming in, Estelle cries to her : 
 " Look at my handsome present ! " 
 
 And, as they leave, the old woman, going up-stairs, 
 tells of the generosity of Pergolese to his bound-girl. 
 This brings an awful rage to the heart of Eugenia, who 
 reclines, fatigued with the first exercise Vicenza has ex- 
 acted from her ; though her mistress, being a wise in- 
 structress, has put the travail of the dance quite lightly 
 upon the delicate limbs of her new pupil. 
 
 Lying upon her little cot in the small room that has 
 been assigned to her, la contessa sighs bitterly, as she 
 listens to the departing wheels that indicate Estelle is 
 being borne away to a scene of gayety such as Madame 
 Intrigante adores ; but, a moment after, jeers, as mer- 
 rily as aching limbs will let her ; " That was my sug-
 
 226 ADRIfcNNfi DE PORTALIS. 
 
 gestion that Estelle should see the beauty of her rival ! 
 Dissension between her and her lover is my great hope ; 
 so that some day, in her jealous torture, this pampered 
 pet may cry out something to me from the depths of a 
 wounded heart that shall give me freedom from the ac- 
 cursed Vicenza and deliverance from Bolza's wrath." 
 
 But utterly unaware of this, Estelle, this evening, is 
 quite content in Pergolese's present attention; and 
 emits a low, excited, happy cry, as she gazes from out 
 the curtains of a second-tier box upon La Scala in its 
 glory ; and quite radiantly listens to the strains of Bel- 
 lini's overture, though Pergolese has a constrained and 
 anxious brow. 
 
 As he has assisted his ward from the carriage, the 
 tenor, who was till yesterday Milan's delight, has no- 
 ticed a strange coldness in the greeting of the hackmen, 
 who were wont, upon his former returns, to doff their 
 hats to him, as if he were a god revisiting this earth. 
 
 Upon the staircase he has seen familiar faces turned 
 from his, and once he has thought a lady's voice has 
 whispered, sadly : " He is an Austrian tenor now." 
 
 But Estelle, thinking his gloom is because he fears 
 she will be disturbed by her approaching sight of his 
 former mistress, determines her manner shall not add 
 to it; and gazes upon him with trustful eyes, as he 
 points out persons of distinction entering the boxes, that 
 are now rapidly filling. 
 
 " There is il Comte Cesaresco, with his countess, over 
 there true friends of Italy, both of them ! And that 
 gentleman just entering the first-tier box is my friend 
 Gabrio Casati ! " he remarks. " Look ! That dashing 
 fellow the one handing her fan to the lady in blue 
 satin and silver gauze is young Luciano Manara, as 
 gallant as a knight of old ! And those are our bour- 
 geoise in the pit. But " he glances toward the gal- 
 lery " those fellows up there, every man and boy of 
 them, are judges of music ; and every one of them Per- 
 golese's friend ! " though there seems a tinge of doubt 
 in Da Messina's voice, as he proclaims this last.
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Just here a strange hush falls upon the chattering 
 audience. 
 
 " The Governor of Lombardy ! " explains Carlo, as 
 into the Imperial box steps stout, old Marshal Radetzky, 
 followed by a brilliant staff. " Observe the ladies are 
 all turning their heads away, to show they do not like 
 him. Tis a great mistake, in which too many of us in- 
 dulge, to be always snarling at that stalwart watch- 
 dog." 
 
 But the stern, old Austrian General, who carries his 
 white head as high as, when a boy, he fought the Turks, 
 or when, as a man, he battled with Napoleon, is deter- 
 mined to act as if there is no sedition in this turbulent 
 town ; and sits calmly gazing on the audience, though 
 he very well knows there is a volcano beneath him; 
 and, being a wise chieftain, has a troop of cavalry 
 about his carriage outside, and two regiments of in- 
 fantry in nearby barracks, ready to march at the word ; 
 and he and each officer of his staff, besides their dress 
 swords, carry, concealed, two service pistols, primed 
 and loaded. 
 
 But, after one glance at the Governor of Lombardy, 
 Estelle nervously turns her opera-glass upon the stage ; 
 for the curtain is going up, showing the moon rising 
 upon the sacred wood of the Druids. 
 
 Da Messina smiles, as he notices her delight in the 
 music and performance; and sits, gazing with tender 
 eyes upon his betrothed. 
 
 Suddenly his sweetheart gives a start, and her white 
 hand darts to her heart, as if to stay its fluttering. 
 Glancing toward the stage, Pergolese knows that Es- 
 telle, with her eyes on Norma, has seen a loveliness 
 that affrights her. 
 
 And she might well have cause for fear ! 
 
 For Olinska, draped in the white robes of the virgin 
 priestess of that barbaric Druid faith, whose sacrifice 
 for tainted vows was death, as she walks under the oaks 
 of the sacred grove, her form outlined in its perfect ma- 
 turity of graceful voluptuousness, is at her very zenith,
 
 228 ADRIENNE DE PORTAL1S. 
 
 and has a loveliness potent enough to charm the heart 
 of any man; though Pergolese, as he sits behind his 
 betrothed's gleaming shoulders, comparing the diva's 
 more meretricious charms to the beauties of the sweet 
 girl whose heart he knows beats for him, wonders how 
 the prima donna had ever been to him even a passing 
 fancy. But men change their minds, and Da Messina 
 is like the rest of them. 
 
 Then Norma, having cut with sacrificial knife the 
 sacred mistletoe, Estelle for the moment forgets all else 
 save that unearthly, mystic beauty peculiar to the 
 " Casta Diva." Accentuated by that weird, yet en- 
 chanting, chorus of DruiJ priests and virgins, it en- 
 thralls her, as this divine melody will any being with 
 ears to hear it. 
 
 But, a few moments after, when Olinska sings "Ah 
 Bella, a Me Ritorna!" it seems to Da Messina's be- 
 trothed as if this were a cry from his mistress for 
 Pergolese to return to her arms ; and, as the beautiful 
 prima donna leaves the stage, Estelle, with a scarce- 
 breathed, pathetic sigh, puts down her opera-glass. 
 
 As Da Messina notices that the ivory, against which 
 his sweetheart's fair eyes have been placed, is wet with 
 her tears, he turns his head away in shame and self- 
 abasement. Ah, if men with their first, pure love could 
 wipe out the reckless passions of their immaturity, how 
 happy would many a bridegroom be! 
 
 Then the act goes on, and to Adalgisa, the new love 
 of the Pollio, Roman proconsul, Estelle seems to give 
 her sympathy, so much that, at the conclusion of the 
 " Vieni in Roma," as if to encourage Norma's rival, she 
 tosses, during the applause, her bouquet to the lady who 
 sings the part. 
 
 Soon after, the curtain having gone down on the act, 
 she hears, just behind her, a genial voice : " Carlo, mein 
 lieber frennd, I obtained leave of absence from my glo- 
 rious uncle, and of course at once came to visit you." 
 Turning to Estelle, the Austrian officer says, cor- 
 dially : " I hope this evening has been a pleasant one to
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. 22Q 
 
 you, Mademoiselle ! I thank Pergolese for bringing 
 you to greet such a beautiful artiste," and he breaks 
 forth in wild and extravagant praise of Olinska. " Thou 
 hast no bouquet to throw to her,'' he says. " Here is 
 another one, to keep for your own sake ; and this one, to 
 toss la diva, when she makes the house wild at the 
 beauty of her voice. Some day," he continues, in Ger- 
 man frankness, '' I hope you will sing as well as she. 
 But it is not her face, it is her charm, her eyes, her lips, 
 her hair, that make la belle Sophie the most admired 
 woman on the stage ! " 
 
 At praise of one she fears, Estelle's eyes grow 
 troubled, and her pretty figure restless. Her little 
 foot is tapping the cushion under it quite viciously. 
 
 Remarking her embarrassment, and ashamed of being 
 indirectly its cause, Da Messina about this time, under 
 plea of saying a few words to old-time friends, unwisely 
 goes away. 
 
 For no sooner has he stepped from the box than 
 Franz whispers : " Oh, how I envy the grand Pergo- 
 lese! They say that la diva once loved him. Must 
 he not have been happy, my little lady ? " 
 
 As he says this, he wonders that Estelle shades her 
 face from his observation by her fan, and why her 
 eyes flash like stars as she, after a moment, remarks, 
 in attempted nonchalance : " How old is your great 
 uncle that stalwart warrior sitting over there ? " She 
 waves her fan toward the Imperial box. 
 
 " Eighty-three last birthday." 
 
 " I I should think he would be too aged for active 
 service ! " 
 
 " Ach Gott!" cries the captain, enthusiastically. 
 " Some men are never too old to fight ! " To this he 
 adds: " The Uncle Johann Wenzel rides a horse like a 
 rittmaster, and loves the ladies God bless him ! as if 
 he were a court page." 
 
 " Then I should think he must have felt embarrassed 
 when all the ladies this evening turned their heads away
 
 23O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 as he came in," says Estelle, ma'iing, in her confusion, 
 a tactless remark. 
 
 " Mein Himmel!" guffaws Franz. " One who has 
 confronted the faces of armed men by the million will 
 scarcely be afraid of women's backs! " And the Aus- 
 trian, quite delighted at his own wit, goes babbling on, 
 and in his German frankness embarrasses Estelle, whom 
 he still considers as a child. " We have grown older, 
 eh ? " he smiles, glancing at her lengthened skirt. " This 
 climate of Italy is quite wonderful. It changes child- 
 hood into girlhood in a day." 
 
 " Oh, you refer to my more mature costume?" she 
 answers, growing red. " That is a reward for my dili- 
 gence in music. Come, some afternoon, and hear me 
 sing!" 
 
 " With pleasure," answers the captain, briskly. " But 
 the curtain is rising. Still, it is only a short ballet be- 
 tween the acts ; so we will soon hear the divine Olinska 
 again. Please tell Carlo that I am anxious for him 
 to set the exact day on which he entertains but that is 
 a matter not, perhaps, best for young and innocent ears ! 
 Gnadiges fraulein, I make my adieu ! " 
 
 He kisses Estelle's gloved fingers, and is passing out 
 of the box, when, in the anteroom, he chances to en- 
 counter Pergolese. After a few whispered words, Da 
 Messina's sweetheart hears the Austrian's strident tones : 
 " Then it is Monday evening ! Madame Gerome has 
 also accepted, you say ? God be praised ! I shall soon 
 meet the most beautiful woman on the stage"! Adieu, 
 mein lieber freund! " 
 
 And Radetzky goes away, not guessing what an un- 
 fortunate pebble he has tossed into Pergolese's fountain 
 of love ; for, though he is very well aware that Da Mes- 
 sina has an affectionate regard for his bound-girl, to 
 whom he permits liberties quite uncommon for her sta- 
 tion, the idea that Estelle should be the affianced of her 
 maestro never enters the Austrian's head. 
 
 This speech in the anteroom, which is immediately 
 coupled in Estelle's bright mind with Franz's former re-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2$ I 
 
 mark in the box, has such an effect upon her that, when 
 Pergolese steps in to her, she says, affecting languor to 
 conceal grief : " If yow don't mind, would you please 
 take me home. I worked so hard at my music to-day that 
 I find myself fatigued. Of course, you can come back 
 afterward to hear Olinska sing," she adds. 
 
 " Not at all," he replies. " I will have half an hour 
 
 with you, and also a " Here he claps his teeth 
 
 together so sharply that, despite her misery, Estelle 
 laughs slightly, as he continues, bitterly : " But I don't 
 return to my friends at La Scala to-night ! " 
 
 And Pergolese is very well pleased not to return. 
 The shoulders of his friends have been too cold for him. 
 For those who did not believe he was familiar with the 
 Austrian officer, have seen Radetzky cordially welcomed 
 this evening in his box ; and the ostracism they extended 
 to their white-coated enemies is now extended to the 
 tenor, who, up to this time, had been a little god in 
 artistic Milan. 
 
 True, Casati has welcomed him to his box most cor- 
 dially, and his grip has been that of a man facing death 
 with him ; and Manara's greeting has been more cor- 
 dial even than it had been before. But these men know 
 what the others do not know. They know that Da Mes- 
 sina is risking his life for their city ; though Luciano, 
 taking Pergolese aside, whispers to him, excitedly : " My 
 dear boy, don't you think you are giving up too much 
 for your friendship for this Radetzky, who may be a 
 very good fellow, but, of course, must be at dagger's 
 point with you in a few days." This last is scarce 
 breathed into Da Messina's very ear. 
 
 " No," replies Carlo, with the same guarded tone ; " I 
 think we keep our enemies too much at a distance. 
 Some day we may need a friend in the Austrian camp." 
 
 " And some day you hope to make traitor of Ra- 
 detzky, the nephew of the Marshal? Carlo, 'tis a 
 maxim that all tenors are maniacs ; but I had made you 
 the exception to the rule."
 
 232 ADRIBNNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " You can do that still," returns Pergolese ; and with 
 this enigma leaves his friend. 
 
 But these things make Da Messina and his ward 
 quite silent, as they drive back to the Via Oriani, where, 
 being admitted by the sleepy doorkeeper into the court- 
 yard, they pass up the big stairs and enter Estelle's 
 pretty parlor. 
 
 Here, as she turns up the lamp, a little cry issues 
 from her lips ; for on the table, greeting her eyes, stands 
 a plain, steel box, quite heavy and very strong, and 
 secured by a Bramah lock, which in that day was con- 
 sidered exceedingly safe ai;d intricate. 
 
 " Look, Carlo! Something for me? But I find no 
 key to it ! " 
 
 " Here is the open sesame," answers Da Messina, and 
 unlocks the box. " The upper portion," he explains, 
 " is for any trinkets that you value that opera-glass, 
 your fan, the ring you wear about your sweet neck. 
 And this lower one " he touches a spring, and, as it 
 flies open, she gazes at him, surprised for it is full of 
 French gold. " In it," he says, " are ten thousand 
 francs for you to use at time of need, for God knows 
 what awful things may come upon this city within the 
 next few days! No no! Don't thank me! It is 
 but a portion of thy own." Then, taking her in his 
 arms, he whispers, tenderly : " If aught happens to 
 me " 
 
 " No, no my God, don't think of that ! " 
 
 " If anything happens to me, go to Captain Radetzky, 
 for if I am down, the Austrians will probably be domi- 
 nant. He has a noble heart, and will do a great deal for 
 my sake. Tell him what thou wert to me." 
 
 " Wert to you ! Misericorde, you mean if you 
 
 are " With a low cry, she puts her arms about 
 
 his neck. 
 
 But he, soothing her in the way she loves, after a 
 moment says, lightly: " Pestel Tears are making 
 your dear eyes red, my darling. This advice is only
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 233 
 
 for the very worst, which shall not come if Da Mes- 
 sina can prevent it ! " 
 
 And Estelle, having great faith in her affianced's 
 quickness of design and personal bravery, and the city 
 to her seeming, notwithstanding his words, quite peace- 
 ful, regains her spirits, and says, archly : " But what 
 am I to do with this? It is too heavy for my hands 
 to carry, even into the next room." 
 
 " Oh, then I'll help you to put it away. You have 
 several closets in your chamber ? " 
 
 " Yes two entirely unused." 
 
 " Only keep careful guard of this," he adds, as he 
 relocks the strong-box. Taking the key, which is at- 
 tached to a slight, golden chain, he places the latter 
 tenderly about her neck, and she looks so sweetly at 
 him she gets a kiss. 
 
 Whereupon the two, half laughing, pick up the box 
 and carry it quite briskly into Estelle's chamber. Here, 
 turning up the lamp, Carlo looks upon three closets, and 
 says: "Where?" 
 
 " That one to the left," she replies ; and, opening it, 
 they deposit therein Estelle's treasure-box. 
 
 " Now, for this you must have at least three cigars," 
 she whispers ; and, going to her trunk, brings out the 
 solace for which Da Messina has probably been longing. 
 And she plugging the keyholes, and looking carefully 
 to the windows, he assents, with a contented sigh. 
 Then as he sits in smoker's paradise before her, she, 
 taking chair near him, says : " Thank you so much for 
 this ! I have felt so helpless at times without a gold 
 piece in my pocket. Trust me ; I will use them as you 
 direct." 
 
 Her gratitude is unfortunate, for now Estelle does 
 not like to mention the strange suspicion Franz's words 
 have brought to her; for Da Messina is a man who 
 meets things very firmly and very straightly, and his 
 explanation would probably forever take Olinska out of 
 his sweetheart's jealous heart. 
 
 .Yet even as she looks at him tliis seems to go from
 
 234 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 her. " This man has been so considerate, so kind ! 
 Besides, when he loved her," she reflects, " he had not 
 yet seen me ! He threw her picture into the fire ; and 
 now, even if Franz's words are true, he is going to in- 
 troduce this Austrian gallant, who seems to worship her, 
 to la belle Sophie. That is not the act of a man still 
 passionate for Olinska ! " 
 
 So, after a little, he bids her a reluctant good-by, and 
 goes home through the streets that are growing silent. 
 
 But as he walks, Pergolese utters these curious 
 words : " The fools of my native city berate me for a 
 friendship that some day, perhaps, will give me infor- 
 mation that may be vital to our cause ! And yet," he 
 mutters, with an awful sigh, " Zerconi fears they will 
 hiss and hoot me off La Scala's stage next Sunday 
 night." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MADAME IAGO. 
 
 As Da Messina leaves Estelle, his sweetheart, hum- 
 ming a merry air, opens the windows of her parlor to 
 remove unpatriotic fumes; then trips blithely into her 
 chamber, to emit a low, startled cry. 
 
 " Don't fear me, dear one ! " whispers the soft voice 
 of Eugenia. 
 
 " You here? Oh, you came down to chat with me? 
 How nice of you ! " babbles the embryo prima donna, her 
 voice again growing clear and silvery after her little 
 fright. 
 
 " Yes ; I tnought you might wish my service," re- 
 plies la contessa, as she lights the lamp. " From Signer 
 da Messina's words, this morning, I presume that I am 
 to act as your maid, if you demand." 
 
 " No, no ! " cries the younger lady, in indignant sym- 
 pathy. " You are my confpanion, my friend ! We are 
 both Pergolese's bound-girls ! " 
 
 But the intrigante will not give "Estelle the slightest
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 2^5 
 
 cause for being jealous of her; and answers, craftily : 
 " Oh, I am old Vicenza's apprentice ! Dio mio, as I did 
 my toe exercises before that dragon, I. felt by every 
 muscle in me that I was indeed her girl. But I came 
 down to chat with you, to keep you from being lonely." 
 In this last Bolza's agent annunciates a deliberate lie. 
 
 Some two hours before she had taken advantage of 
 Madre Paola being in bed, and Josepha at La Scala, 
 with their few dancing-girls, who took part in the ballet, 
 to slip down quietly and tremblingly into Estelle's cham- 
 ber, and examine that young lady's trunk, hoping to 
 find in it some clew that would aid her to Da Messina's 
 undoing. 
 
 Surprised by Estelle's return, long before the opera 
 ended, Eugenia had only time to slip into one of the . 
 closets of the bedroom before Pergolese and his sweet- 
 heart entered the chamber, bearing the steel box. By 
 great good fortune, Estelle had selected another closet to 
 the one occupied by the cowering Eugenia, whose knees 
 knocked together in fear of being discovered in a new 
 transgression by her padrone. 
 
 " But we didn't see you when we came in here, car- 
 rying my strong-box," remarks Estelle, who is not over- 
 pleased, fearing that Eugenia may have overheard a 
 love scene. Opening her eyes, she asks : " Where 
 could you have been ? " 
 
 " In that closet," replies la contessa, pointing. " I 
 did not dare come out. I feared Signer da Messina. 
 He was so stern to me to-day." 
 
 " Pish ! " laughs the other. " Pergolese is no ogre ! 
 But stay down with me to-night. I am lonely here, 
 Eugenia ; I am really frightened. I have lots of room 
 for you." She points to the big, ample, inviting bed. 
 
 But the other hesitates, whispering : " Madre Vi- 
 cenza ! " 
 
 " Oh, I'll arrange that matter for you ! You know, 
 you are to come to me whenever I ask ! " cries the girl. 
 
 " Well, of course, if you want it ; you know I've got 
 to obey you," returns la contessa, quite happy at the
 
 236 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 luxury before her; for this big bed, with its dainty 
 sheets and soft, lace-edged pillows, is in great contrast 
 to the miserable cot she occupies up-stairs. 
 
 So the two, laughingly and pleasantly, help each 
 other to undress ; and both getting into the white robes 
 of night, one seems as graceful as a fairy, the other like 
 a drooping goddess, Eugenia being still languid from 
 the exercise of the dance, as enforced by Vicenza ; and 
 after a little they go quite happily to bed. 
 
 Here, with their heads on neighboring pillows and 
 their tresses mingling, Estelle naturally speaks of the 
 man she thinks about, giving a short description of her 
 visit, under Da Messina's escort, to the opera; and in 
 return receives a dexterous pin prick from Eugenia. 
 
 "A fede! " laughs Madame Intrigante, her lips quite 
 near to the ear of the sweet girl she is tormenting. 
 " When Pergolese sat in that box, looking at you one 
 minute and Olinska the next, he must have felt some- 
 thing like the Pollio of the opera divided 'twixt the 
 old love and the new." 
 
 As answer she receives a more complete understand- 
 ing of Estelle's character than had come to her before. 
 For a face, lighted by two eyes that, in the darkness of 
 the room, seem balls of fire, rises from the pillow be- 
 fore her; her tender arm is clutched in such frantic 
 fury that Eugenia winces ; a voice, hoarse with rage, 
 says : " I command you no further slur upon his love 
 for me!" 
 
 " But I can speak ? " 
 
 " Not if I tell you no ! Remember your master's 
 instructions ! Shall I have to treat you as thy pa- 
 drona?" 
 
 " Of course treat me as badly as the rest ! " sighs la 
 contessa; adding, in crafty humility: " If I displease 
 you, you know you have but to speak to that accursed 
 Vicenza, and I shall suffer ! " then sobs : " You, whom I 
 thought my my friend ! " And thus this schemer wins 
 a battle, by her very helplessness, from a tender and 
 noble heart.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 237 
 
 " I I am still your friend," murmurs Estelle, whose 
 generous soul reproaches her for having said sharp 
 words to one who dare not reply to them. " Only, 
 please please do not speak so to me ! You you can 
 not guess how you wound me." Then she cries : " I 
 know he loves me ! Look at the beautiful presents he 
 gave me to-day ! " She springs out of the bed, and 
 turning up the lamp, exhibits to the envious eyes of 
 this female lago the exquisite gifts her betrothed had 
 lavished on her. " Look at them ! Do they not prove 
 my Carlo's love ? " 
 
 " Dio, they are beautiful ! " assents the contessa, in- 
 specting the really valuable presents Estelle puts fran- 
 tically in her hands. Then, with fiendish subtlety, she 
 makes these very gifts of ardent lover nearly break his 
 affianced's heart. She looks at the baubles closely, and 
 remarks : " This fan is from Fossini, 62 Rue Richelieu, 
 Paris ; and this opera-glass, a magnificent Jumelle, from 
 Chevallier, 15 Place du Pont Neuf, Paris. And Da 
 Messina only knew you after leaving Paris ? " 
 
 For this information had drifted to Eugenia from 
 Estelle's careless words during the journey. 
 
 " These were not purchased in Milan, but in Paris 
 and before he met you ! " she continues. " Oh, you 
 are, my child, receiving the presents intended for an- 
 other! 'Twas always said Pergolese was very gen- 
 erous to Olinska." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, if I thought that ! " Estelle's white arm 
 is upraised, and she would dash the opera-glass and 
 fan upon the floor, and dance upon them with her 
 pretty feet. 
 
 But Eugenia, catching her hand, dissents : " I may 
 be mistaken. They may have been purchased in 
 Milan. Sometimes such goods are brought from Paris 
 here ; but not very often, for the duty on them is too 
 high. You are more apt to meet the Viennese manu- 
 facture in this town. But come to bed, and for God's 
 sake don't cry ! I feel it a reproach upon my foolish 
 tongue." For la contessa will not have Estelle destroy
 
 238 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Carlo's gifts. " If he guessed I chatted to his pet in 
 this way, I'd never open lip to her again," she thinks. 
 
 Having said as much on the subject of Pergolese as, 
 for the moment, she dares, Eugenia, as she renestles 
 herself in the soft bed, now gains Estelle's sympathy by 
 adding : " And in return, please please let me go to 
 sleep! Maladetto, if you had, like me, to get Up at 
 seven o'clock in the morning to commence the labors of 
 a ballerina, you would want to rest ! " 
 
 " Oh, how cruel ! I have been keeping you awake, 
 and you so fatigued. Forgive me, dear ! " entreats 
 Estelle. 
 
 " Of course I do ! I I love you ! " yawns Eu- 
 genia. 
 
 Then the snake, turning on her pillow, goes to sleep ; 
 but the dove lies restless and unhappy. The fangs 
 have wounded her a little, but the poison has not yet 
 wholly entered into her veins. 
 
 And now the tremendous labors of the Milanese lead- 
 ers, arranging armed rebellion, keep Da Messina from 
 Estelle, and aid Eugenia's purpose. This next day he 
 omits her music lesson, and only comes after dark. 
 
 As he smokes, she prattles : " Carlo mio, can't I go 
 on the stage and watch you from the wings, at La 
 Scala, on Sunday evening ? " 
 
 " No," he answers, shortly. " I do not wish you on 
 the stage. I will I will get a box for you, mia cara. 
 My man, Antonelli, will sit in its anteroom, to look after 
 you." 
 
 " Can Eugenia go with me? " 
 
 " Yes, if you want her," he replies. " In fact, you 
 had better have a companion. Still " there is a hesi- 
 tation in his manner " do you wish to hear me very 
 much?" 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" she cries. "Hear you! Why, my 
 beloved, I have been dreaming of it ever since I saw 
 your name upon the boards ; thinking each day is one 
 day nearer to my being able to applaud with my own
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 239 
 
 little hands, and throw a bouquet no, two or three 
 to Pergolese ! " 
 
 " Then I I will send you a box," he assents ; and, 
 after a short, but pleasant, interview, leaves his sweet- 
 heart. 
 
 The next day, Friday, not until the evening does 
 he lounge into his ward's pretty parlor. Apparently 
 too tired to hear her sing her exercise, he sits, smoking 
 his cigar, in a gloomy, meditative way, though gazing 
 at his betrothed with almost pathetic tenderness through 
 the blue rings of vapor. 
 
 " You seem tired, Carlo mio, and distressed," she re- 
 marks, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes my rehearsals," he answers. For he dare not 
 tell her of their preparations for a struggle to the death 
 with Austria, some of which he superintends himself; 
 how each forge and machine shop is secretly making 
 rude guns of oaken logs, bored out and sheathed with 
 steel, to take the place of artillery; how they are 
 accumulating powder, homemade and crude, con- 
 cocted of such niter and sulphur as they can quietly 
 gather up ; and how all these, being made with a se- 
 crecy begotten by the fear of death, are infinitely more 
 laborious than if done in the open light of day. There- 
 fore, he puts his sweetheart's questions off with the plea 
 of rehearsals for his Sunday evening appearance at La 
 Scala, and very lovingly, yet somewhat abstractedly, 
 taking leave of his betrothed, goes away. 
 
 After he has gone, and Estelle has purged the room 
 of suspicious odor, she rings her bell, and asks, as usual, 
 that Eugenia be sent down to her. 
 
 A few minutes after, that lady comes in, a con- 
 strained expression on her face, her blue eyes dark- 
 ened by some hidden fury, yet rather red about their 
 lids. 
 
 " Please excuse my dishabille. I was too tired, Es- 
 telle, to dress," she murmurs, as, with a loose, white 
 wrapper covering her loveliness, la contessa gazes upon 
 Jier victim, and is pleased to note that the pampered one
 
 24 ADRIENNE DE PORTALfS. 
 
 is drooping. "What is the matter, dear?" she jeers. 
 " Has Pergolese given you but little of his company 
 to-day?" 
 
 " Yes. But, since you are tired, my hard-worked 
 friend, let's go to bed at once," sighs Da Messina's 
 sweetheart. 
 
 So, the exhausted ballerina follows Estelle, who, as 
 they disrobe, eager to explain the reason of her lover's 
 negligence, continues : " You see, Carlo could only 
 come this evening ; and then he scarce heard me sing 
 he was so exhausted, like you, my pet, from rehearsal. 
 It's rehearsal, rehearsal, day after day ! " 
 
 " So you think Pergolese's rehearsals keep him from 
 you ? " sneers la contessa, as she languidly kicks off the 
 slippers from her dainty feet. " Don't you know, my 
 little foolish one, that in one rehearsal this tenor will 
 recover his part; and as for Olinska, she must have 
 sung those love duets with him fifty times upon the 
 stage, and God knows how many in private ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't hint of that ! " pleads the tormented one. 
 " In mercy, don't ! " Then, confronting her tormen- 
 tor, she says, proudly : " Carlo loves me, and proves 
 it!" 
 
 " By visiting you each night, because your parlor is 
 the one place in Milan he can enjoy a cigar, and still 
 be patriot ; yet comes no other time," Eugenia scoffs. 
 "Ma foil My poor child, doesn't it seem as if Per- 
 golese came to you simply for his smoke ? " 
 
 At this devlish insinuation, Estelle gives a shudder- 
 ing, broken cry, and droops like a wounded bird. Then 
 suddenly her head rises, her eyes blaze, indignantly ; she 
 mutters : " If that's only what he comes for, he will 
 get no more of them ! " and rushes to her trunk to throw 
 the smuggled tit-bits into the fire. 
 
 But this brings overwhelming terror to Eugenia; for, 
 deprived of his luxuries, Da Messina will surely dis- 
 cover the reason of his loss. " Don't do it ! " she 
 begs. " He knew that you had but a hundred. He 
 counts them with a miser's count."
 
 ADRTENNE DE PORTALIS. 24! 
 
 " Why not ? " says Estelle, hoarsely. " To get these 
 for him I risked imprisonment ! Oh, 'twas joy to see 
 him smoke each one! But now, if I thought that 
 he only came to me for love of them oh God of 
 Heaven! that would be too great a misery, too su- 
 preme a humiliation ! " And she struggles with la 
 contessa, who dare not have them destroyed. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! I'll do with my own what I will ! " she 
 says. " Obey me take your hands off them ! " and 
 her eyes shine in their torture like two stars of night. 
 
 Seeing Estelle's resolve, Eugenia takes another method. 
 She suddenly shudders : " My Heaven, would you get 
 me beaten ? " 
 
 "What! Has Paola dared?" 
 
 " Not yet ; but it will come ! Therefore don't gain 
 me the hatred of my padrone. If he knew he lost 
 through my foolish babbling the only cigars in Milan 
 a patriot can smoke, I should be without his protec- 
 tion from Vicenza's severity." 
 
 " But Da Messina," cries Estelle, " shall know she 
 threatens you! I'll write to him. He'll come to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 " No, no! Tell anyone but him! If Paola knew I 
 had appealed to him, she would be angered more. Only 
 ask him a favor that he will come to-morrow and see 
 me dance, and praise me to Vicenza. His indifference 
 to me makes her think he doesn't imagine I can ever 
 become of value. Therefore she is cross to me. Just 
 get him to praise me that's all. Please write now " 
 
 " Oh, I'll do that quick enough ! " cries Estelle ; and, 
 sitting down in her night robe, writes a little note to 
 her betrothed. " That will bring him ! " she says, as 
 she seals the letter. 
 
 " Did you ask him to come to see me at once? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! I asked him to come and see me. I told 
 him I must see him; I had something I must have 
 him admire. Oh, that'll bring him though you seem 
 to doubt his love for me. Then, when he is here, I'll 
 have the matter so arranged that he can not avoid you ;
 
 242 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 for, in truth, sometimes I think he doesn't have much 
 interest in you, my poor Eugenia." 
 
 And so, taking the snake in her breast, the dove 
 soothes her; and they go to sleep in each other's arms. 
 
 But, even as she closes her eyes, one thought is para- 
 mount in la contessa's brain. " Four days of jealousy, 
 and this woman has not opened her lips to me! Six 
 days but now remain, and then Bolza ! Dio mio ! 
 My only hope is in proving to Estelle that Da Messina 
 is not true. And to do this, I must have my padrona's 
 favor, so that she will grant me one request." 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 THE POPULACE CAST DOWN THEIR IDOL. 
 
 Estelle's epistle the next morning reaching Da Mes- 
 sina, he fondles it, and puts it with the other writing of 
 his love, and contrives, busy as he is, to answer it in 
 person about twelve o'clock the next day, bringing with 
 him Franz Radetzky. For in truth, outside of the 
 Central Committee, who know that he is a true patriot. 
 Pergolese has now but few companions in Milan ex- 
 cept the Austrian officer, who very well knowing what 
 this Italian is giving up for his friendship, looks at 
 him quite tenderly with his honest, German eyes. 
 
 " You said a little entertainment that I should see and 
 criticise," remarks Da Messina ; " so I brought Franz 
 with me. Is it a dramatic recitation, or some new 
 high note that you have achieved?" 
 
 " No ; I arranged it. It is Eugenia ! " cries Estelle ; 
 and, getting Carlo by himself for a moment, she hastily 
 whispers the matter to him, adding : " La contessa is 
 being costumed. If you love me, praise la contessa's 
 dancing ; otherwise Vicenza will be harsh to her." 
 
 " Oh, if you ask me, I will say Eugenia is an embryo 
 Taglioni," remarks Pergolese. " Now that you men- 
 tion it, I haven't seen her since I took her under my 
 wing. But Franz will be the better to applaud. He
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 243 
 
 < jie most enthusiastic." With this, he explains to the 
 German officer who the new ballet-girl is ; at which the 
 other says : '' Ach Gott, she must be very lovely ; she 
 was very beautiful in clothes ! " 
 
 At this suggestion Da Messina laughs, and Estelle 
 trips blushingly ahead of the gentlemen, as they all 
 go up the stairway to Madre Vicenza's salle de danse, 
 a big room, with a waxed, oaken floor. 
 
 In a corner is seated one of Paola's girls at the piano. 
 
 As the gentlemen seat themselves, Estelle suggests: 
 " I will tell Paola that we are here," and runs out of 
 the room. 
 
 A minute 01 two later she comes flying back, her eyes 
 big with excitement, and whispers to them : " Eugenia 
 is beautiful as a fairy ; the dress Tancredi, the costumer 
 of La Scala, made for her is ethereal." 
 
 Even as she speaks, Franz utters a short exclamation 
 of delight, as Mother Vicenza introduces a debutante 
 whose cheeks are blushing, and whose eyes diffidently 
 seek the polished floor. 
 
 " She is a little bashful in her fleshings and gauze 
 skirts ! " laughs the mattresse de ballet, who is leading 
 Eugenia by one hand, the other holding a long, white 
 wand. 
 
 " Now, salute your padrone and his friend," says 
 Paola, affably. And la ballerina, with averted eyes, 
 sweeps down till one gleaming knee just grazes the 
 floor. 
 
 Then Madre Vicenza waves her wand, and at its 
 signal the debutante takes pose, while even Da Messina, 
 who at first had little interest, now can not keep his eyes 
 from the lovely contessa, unveiled for padrone's com- 
 ment, criticism, and inspection. 
 
 The spirit uelle beauty of her eyes and face gives 
 lightness to the outlines of a form which is so symmet- 
 rically proportioned that it seems a fairy's, though its 
 contours have the perfect roundness of earliest maturity. 
 
 Her fair hair is bound about her graceful head in 
 simple, lustrous bands, so tightly drawn they would
 
 244 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 seem severe did not two curls, permitted to escape, dan- 
 gle upon her snowy shoulders, which rise boldly in 
 dimpled beauty from a corsage of white satin, very 
 deftly laced, to contrast - the rounded beauty of her 
 gleaming bust with the litheness of her slender waist. 
 
 Over this corsage is draped a simple, silver tissue, 
 girdled at the waist by a zone of argent. From there, 
 this silvery, floating stuff descends to just above the 
 graceful knees, in two bouffant skirts, so sheer that 
 through them shine the exquisite limbs encased by a 
 silken web so fragile it seems but a sheen over the 
 white, gleaming flesh. Her pretty feet are in light, 
 dancing slippers, sandled to the rounded ankles with 
 satin ribbons. 
 
 And now, to the music, these little feet begin to move, 
 following accurately, but almost frantically, each wave 
 of Vicenza's wand, that indicates the tempo and the 
 movement ; and the measure growing faster, the twink- 
 ling feet move quicker, the flying skirts expand, the 
 glistening limbs beat the air more frantically, the white 
 breast begins to throb, the beautiful face, which was 
 pale, grows flushed with mighty exertion, and Eugenia, 
 now dancing on very toes, looks like a sylph flying from 
 a satyr ; for a strange, appealing nervousness is on her 
 face that gives to it a wild, yet pathetic beauty. The 
 debutante is dancing for a boon, without which the spy 
 
 despairs. aJU-yvOfc 
 
 " Cospetto ! " laughs Da^vTessinayy " Eugenia looks 
 as anxious as if she were Herod&s dancing for the 
 head of John the Baptist." But he never guesses 
 she is dancing for his head. 
 
 " She looks pretty enough to even enchant a Blue- 
 beard like you," whispers Estelle. 
 
 As for Franz, his eyes follow the beautiful debutante 
 till the music ceases, and Vicenza cries : " Salute and 
 retire ! " 
 
 At this command, la contessa sweeps to the floor with 
 a graceful courtesy and one appealing glance to Per- 
 golese; then, at her padrona's signal, glides to the
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 245 
 
 door. Here, turning, she again salutes, and disappears, 
 a smile of victory upon her face ; for Franz is clapping 
 his hands boyishly, and crying : " Bravo ! Well done ! 
 She is beautiful as a dream ! " 
 
 To this Da Messina adds, quite enthusiastically: 
 " We have a fortune in this dancer, Vicenza ! " 
 
 As for Estelle, she has almost danced herself; to the 
 merry rhythm of the music, her little foot has kept time; 
 and she is now crying : " Bravo, bravo, Eugenia ! " 
 
 " Diavolo!" laughs Vicenza. " Didn't I tell you I'd 
 have her at least a coryphee in a week ! I sold a lot of 
 her foolish costumes, fit for a marchessa, to buy her 
 tights and dancing frocks, and the jade half cried her 
 eyes out. But isn't she beautiful in them ? " 
 
 " Exceedingly ! " remarks Carlo, as he leads Estelle 
 to her parlor; but Franz lingers up-stairs, and, plac- 
 ing a few gold pieces in Paola's hands, whispers : 
 " Can I engage your beautiful debutante's services 
 for Monday evening?" 
 
 " Of course ! That's what she's here for." 
 
 " Then have her at the Cova at nine o'clock." 
 
 " Thanks, Captain ! " says the woman, as he rejoins 
 Da Messina. 
 
 But after the two gentlemen leave the house, she mut- 
 ters : " Austrian gold is as good as any ; still, Pergo- 
 lese making friends with a white-coat is beyond my 
 poor brain." 
 
 They are just gone when Eugenia, in the costume 
 of the ballet, comes, with radiant face, running down 
 to Estelle, and cries : " God bless you, darling ! Paolar 
 is so delighted ! She says I'll make money for her 
 within a week, and has promised to grant me a favor 
 on Monday." Then she babbles on : " Take me to 
 see Pergolese to-morrow night you know you prom- 
 ised to; you said you had a box." 
 
 " Of course I will ! He forgot to hand me my tickets 
 it must have been because you are so beautiful, my 
 dear. I'll write to him at once," and Estelle indites 
 another little note to her affianced, asking for the loge.
 
 246 ADRIKNNE DE PORTAtlS. 
 
 But this evening Carlo does not come, and after wait- 
 ing for him longingly, his sweetheart goes drearily to 
 bed ; to shed some silent tears, as Eugenia, whose head 
 is upon the neighboring pillow, whispers a few crafty 
 and disquieting suggestions ; for no place on this earth 
 is so effective for unhealthy confidence from one fair 
 head to another as when the fair heads lie pillowed 
 side by side. 
 
 But on Sunday afternoon a note comes from the tenor 
 to Estelle, saying : " I withhold the box, mia carissima, 
 because I don't wish you to go this evening. Believe 
 me, I have never forgotten your wish, which is my 
 pleasure ; but after serious consideration, though I had 
 the tickets, I returned them, as I do not think it best for 
 you to visit La Scala to-night. God bless you, dear 
 one ! Last night I would have come, but I could not 
 look upon your pleading eyes and refuse the darling of 
 my heart." 
 
 Whereupon, flying into a tantrum, Da Messina's be- 
 trothed tears the note up, stamps her feet upon it, 
 and cries : " That for his promise ! He doesn't dare to 
 come and confront me ! " 
 
 " Perhaps he doesn't wish you," remarks Eugenia, 
 who, by ill luck, chances to be with her, " to see him 
 in those love duets with Olinska. He fears, perhaps, 
 that you may discover in his ardor that his passion for 
 la belle Sophie is more real than he would care for you 
 to know." 
 
 " But I'll see him and his mistress, too ! " says the 
 mutinous one. " I'll have a box in spite of him ! " 
 
 With this, taking a dozen pieces of the gold Carlo had 
 sent to her, she jeers : " They say Pergolese's notes are 
 golden ; I pay gold for his voice ! Eugenia, we'll have 
 a box, and a jolly good time, we two bound-girls, while 
 our padrone isn't looking. Come with me, dear one; 
 you are my only consolation." 
 
 *' But Vicenza won't let me go without Pa Messina's 
 permission," pouts la contessa. 
 
 "Oh, yes she will, if I ask it!"
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 247 
 
 And, Estelle flying up to Paola, the latter says : " Of 
 course, if you ask it, pet, and Josepha goes to keep her 
 eye on Eugenia." 
 
 With this, getting Josepha, who loves her, into the 
 room, Estelle prattles to the maidservant : " Run out 
 and get a box for La Scala to-night! You shall go 
 with us to hear Pergolese." 
 
 " Shall we have a supper in the box ? " asks the prac- 
 tical Josepha. 
 
 " Oh, yes order that also. Perhaps we may have 
 visitors. Mayhap the Austrian captain will come up. 
 He seemed to put quite pleasant eyes on you in your 
 dancing costume," she laughs to Eugenia. 
 
 Whereupon Josepha goes quite blithely on this er- 
 rand ; for, although she has heard Pergolese sing many 
 times, she is enraptured to hear him again. Besides, 
 the eatables appeal to her also. From her journey she 
 shortly returns, saying : " I could only get a box in the 
 upper tier. Everything else is engaged." 
 
 " Yes ; thank you." 
 
 Going to her chamber, Estelle whispers bitterly to 
 herself : " I'll look down upon my recreant ! Every- 
 body in Milano was to hear him sing to-night but me 
 the woman he pretends to love ! " 
 
 And the time of performance approaching, Eugenia 
 comes to her, garbed in one of the few dresses per- 
 mitted her by the economical Paola; and the two, ac- 
 companied by Josepha, walking through the streets to 
 La Scala, which is but round the corner from the Via 
 Oriani, the young ladies, being quite heavily veiled, pass 
 through its grand entrance. Its lobby and foyer are 
 now crowded with men, all in a curious Italian excite- 
 ment, vivid and picturesque ; for every one is jabbering 
 to the other in voices so intense, and with gestures so 
 fervid, that Estelle, a little frightened, runs up the stairs 
 quite hurriedly. She can not catch the meaning, their 
 chatter being too rapid for a not thoroughly educated 
 ear; though Eugenia, understanding, has a sly grin 
 upon her face,
 
 248 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 And so, followed by Josepha, who, catching the re- 
 marks of some people going into the pit, has now a 
 pallid countenance, they reach a little loge in the upper 
 tier, and look out upon La Scala, crowded, even now, 
 from pit to dome. 
 
 They are close to the gallery, and Estelle hears an 
 excited murmur rolling through it like thunder presag- 
 ing storm. The boxes, she notes, quite wonderingly, 
 have very few ladies in them, though packed with men. 
 The Imperial loge is devoid of occupants, the only 
 empty spot in the great theater. 
 
 Then the strains of the beautiful overture float up to 
 her from the orchestra, punctuated by the munching of 
 macaroons and sweetmeats in the anteroom of the box 
 by Josepha, who already has fallen to on the supper. 
 
 And the curtain rising upon the first act of " Lucia," 
 Estelle's heart begins to flutter. She is about to be tor- 
 tured by seeing the man she loves make protestations 
 to his mistress ; for that's what Estelle now thinks 
 Olinska. 
 
 But she is to be tortured in another and different 
 way. As the act drifts on, she sees the beautiful 
 Sophie upon the stage, and hears her brilliant voice 
 ring out its first, sad air of fatal presage ; then warble 
 the exquisite love song calling Edgardo to her. 
 
 Tis just before Pergolese's entrance ! An agony is 
 upon the girl's face, which Eugenia, sitting beside her, 
 yet slightly to her rear, watches with the intensity of a 
 hawk. " In Estelle's torture will words come from her 
 fair lips to betray the secret for which she has suffered 
 much without yet gaining?" is Signora di Vilermo's 
 anxious thought. 
 
 Then the house grows so still Estelle can hear the ex- 
 cited beating of her heart. Pergolese is entering ! Oh, 
 God, with what ecstasy she had hoped first to hear his 
 voice upon the stage ! And now with what sorrow ! 
 Yet here he comes, stepping through the trees, dressed 
 in the black velvet costume that is usual to Edgardo. 
 
 In another moment she will hear his voice she does
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 249 
 
 hear it! Three grand notes come floating to her in 
 the air silvery, brilliant, dominant. Then it is drowned 
 by a roar like the clatter of Pandemonium. The gallery 
 bursts out in one howling, shrieking, hissing " Tradi- 
 tore!" The boxes and the pit take up the cry : " Male- 
 detto Pergolese! Abasso ainico di Austria! " 
 
 Though a few friends clamor for him, they are 
 quelled by the multitude of hisses, as the mob dash 
 their idol from ils pedestal, and scoff and curse this 
 man whom they li^d once worshiped. 
 
 Gazing at Da Messina through her shaking opera- 
 glass, Estelle can see that even beneath its stage rouge 
 his face is pallid as death, but that, under contumely, his 
 bearing is proud and noble. 
 
 Once more he steps to the footlights and attempts to 
 sing, and again the howling of the audience beats down 
 his voice, as it does the orchestra. The bows of the 
 violins are moving, even the tympanii are being struck, 
 but no music comes to her ; only the same snarling, aw- 
 ful roar. 
 
 A moment after, as Pergolese tries apparently to 
 speak, a deluge of decayed oranges and other unpleas- 
 ant things the mob had brought to give him greeting 
 come showering down over this once pet of the Milan 
 stage, and the prima donna flees from the scene. Then, 
 as he raises his hand commandingly, a bone, thrown by 
 some patriot dastard of the upper gallery, striking him 
 on the face, a little blood flows down his cheek; and 
 amid shrieks, cat-calls, and the din of the Inferno, the 
 curtain is let down. 
 
 But here come words to Eugenia that are to her as 
 the joy of life, for Estelle is shaking her little fist at the 
 gallery, and crying : " Fools ! Idiots ! Don't you 
 know that he is risking his life for your vile cause! 
 Dastards, don't you know that he is bringing arms for 
 you to fight the Austrians! Ah, Dio, what coward 
 struck the man I love ! " 
 
 The roar of the gallery and of the house drowns these
 
 25O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 frantic phrases, save to the ears of one the one who 
 least of all should hear them the agent of Bolza. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A LETTER THAT SHAKES AN EMPIRE. 
 
 Then Estelle sinks back in her chair, and almost 
 faints. But Eugenia fanning her, she shortly recovers, 
 and asks : " You don't want to stay here, do you? " for 
 the roar of gallery and pit is still deafening. 
 
 " No, dear. I have got even more than I came for," 
 answers Madame Espia, softly. 
 
 " And so have I ! " 
 
 Veiling themselves, and calling Josepha, who is chat- 
 tering excitedly, but who economically makes up a 
 bundle of what she has left of the supper, they come 
 down the stairways, which are now crowded. As they 
 pass the foyer, they hear a rumor that the management 
 have announced from the stage that Pergolese is too in- 
 disposed to continue the performance, and have substi' 
 tuted Labari in the part. 
 
 This mention of her lover's illness affects Estelle; 
 and, as they walk home, she sighs to herself : " Mon 
 Dieu ! I turned upon him like the rest ! I disobeyed 
 him ! He feared I would be wounded at the insults 
 heaped on him; that was the reason my Carlo did not 
 wish me to see him on the stage to-night. Oh, if he 
 will but come to me, how I will soothe my future hus- 
 band ! " 
 
 For Estelle, like most women, clings closer to the 
 being she loves when he is thrown down in the battle 
 of this world. 
 
 And perchance had Pergolese come, all might yet 
 have been well with him and her; but, like many men 
 of proud disposition, he does not care to tell this being 
 of his heart that those who have worshiped him have 
 cast him down, and spat upon him.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 25! 
 
 So, in her parlor Estelle paces the floor, sometimes 
 wringing her hands a little; and Eugenia, gazing at 
 her, knows that this is no time to make suggestion that 
 Da Messina is untrue; and grins: " Cospetto, if I cast 
 doubt upon him now, my little spitfire would fly at me 
 as she would have at those hissers in La Scala's gal- 
 lery ! " 
 
 Therefore she craftily soothes Estelle by saying: 
 " Peste, this is nothing to what it would have been had 
 he lost his glorious voice ! You heard those three 
 grand notes? The finest in Italy! What matters 
 Milan, when this great artist has the whole world be- 
 fore him ! Besides, within a week, that same crowd 
 may change their fickle minds again, and cry him up 
 as they have hissed him down." 
 
 So, being a little comforted, the dethroned, tenor's 
 sweetheart is helped by Eugenia to bed ; and clinging to 
 her, she whispers : " You are my true friend ! " 
 
 Rising early the next morning, Eugenia goes up to 
 Madre Paola, and says : " Please give me my exercises 
 now." These she does so docilely, so correctly, and 
 yet so brilliantly, that Vicenza smiles : " You are im- 
 proving every day. You need take no more steps for 
 me to-day, for you dance this evening at the supper 
 this Austrian officer and Pergolese give at the Cova." 
 
 "What! I dance?" 
 
 " Yes ; they are giving a fete to some lady." 
 
 " Gran Dio ! " and Eugenia almost faints from joy ; 
 but Mother Paola thinks it is from agitation at her 
 coming debut, and whispers : " Don't be frightened, 
 child ! I'll dress you myself, and put you into a new 
 dancing frock, even prettier than the other ; " adding : 
 " You said you would ask a favor from me to-day. 
 Best ask while I'm pleased with thee. What is it?" 
 
 " Only that you permit me to go with Estelle to drive 
 in the Giardini Publica, and spend the afternoon there." 
 
 " Dio ! You want to flirt with men ! " mutters Vi- 
 cenza, suspiciously.
 
 252 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I promise you I will not look at a gen- 
 tleman ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; girls always say that till my back is 
 turned! But you can go, if I go to keep an eye on 
 you. I think I'll take an outing myself. If Estelle 
 hires a carriage, it will cost me nothing. Run and ask 
 our little princessa if she will take her friend Vicenza 
 with her." 
 
 Coming with this message to Estelle, Eugenia finds 
 the young lady with a note in her hand from Pergo- 
 lese, which tells her not to expect him this day ; but to 
 in nowise let any rumors she may hear of last night's 
 attack upon him distress her, and that now she must 
 understand his reason for not wishing her to visit La 
 Scala. 
 
 " I I don't think I'll go ; I hardly care for gayety," 
 she says, in answer to la contessa's request ; and won- 
 ders why her friend's face is so despondent. 
 
 "Why not?" dissents Eugenia, stifling a mighty 
 sigh. " Signer da Messina never comes in the after- 
 noon. He will think you are taking your declamation 
 from Madame Pacini." 
 
 " Yes, that is her time ; but I don't feel well enough 
 to act." 
 
 " A little fresh air would bring roses again to you." 
 Then la contessa pouts: " If you don't go, I lose my 
 outing." And this wins her cause with Estelle's gen- 
 erous heart. 
 
 " Well, then, dear, ask Josepha to get us a carriage ! " 
 
 So quite early this afternoon, having finished dinner, 
 the two girls, chaperoned by old Madre Paola, in a 
 rather broken-down, old chaise, rumble through the 
 streets to the pleasure spot of Milan. 
 
 Estelle is dressed very plainly, both because she does 
 not care to attract attention and also because she knows 
 Eugenia will not be permitted ornament ; that young 
 lady wearing, under her padrona's direction, the plain 
 gown in which she had signed her articles of indenture. 
 
 As they ride, were Estelle not so dispirited that she
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 253 
 
 takes little heed, she would scarce fail to notice that 
 Paola is suspicious of la contessa's object in asking 
 for this outing. 
 
 They have hardly left the house, when Vicenza, 
 catching sight of the Polish bottines that had received 
 Da Messina's condemnation, says, sharply : " Put up 
 those man-catchers on the seat beside me, my amorous 
 minx ! " 
 
 " What do you mean, madref " asks Eugenia, who 
 is sitting opposite her ruler. 
 
 " I mean those boots, tassled to catch men's eyes ! " 
 she growls ; adding, grimly : " Your beauty now be- 
 longs to me not to the gentlemen." And Eugenia, 
 poutingly complying with her demand, old Paola takes 
 from her pocket a pair of scissors ; for, being econom- 
 ical even of her time, she has brought with her some ar- 
 ticles for an afternoon's knitting. With these she coolly 
 cuts off the big, silken tassels that deck the handsome 
 boots, and with a sniff of disdain tosses them out of 
 the carriage window. " Now, you are more modest, 
 girl," she says; then whispers in the indignant con- 
 tessa's ear : " Let me catch but a glance at gallant in 
 the park, friponne, and you know what I'll do ! " Her 
 eyes are such that Eugenia hangs her head, and an- 
 swers, meekly : " Yes, mia padrona." She has no wish 
 to anger her stern guardian, fearing that, kept strictly 
 by her side, she will lose an opportunity that she values 
 almost as her soul. 
 
 A moment after, they descend from the carriage, the 
 two young ladies making pretty contrast with the grim 
 Vicenza, as they stand under the trees of the pleasure- 
 ground. 
 
 The Giardini Publica are very lovely, and this March 
 day is as balmy as a May one. 
 
 So, Vicenza keeping a hawk's eye upon her dancer, 
 the two girls wander about in listless fashion amid the 
 shrubs and flowers. But not for long; for, gazing 
 toward the chestnut trees that shade the drive, Eu- 
 genia remarks : " Dear madre, would you take us over
 
 254 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 there, where we can look at the carriages ? I'm tired of 
 babies and their nurses ! " 
 
 " Why not? " answers Paola. " I can knit comfort- 
 ably over there; and, though you'll see gallants, Eu- 
 genia, they will be on horseback, and out of reach ! " 
 
 But Vicenza need not fear the bright eyes of la con- 
 tessa this afternoon. All Eugenia seems to wish is to 
 get Estelle where she can gaze upon that broad avenue 
 of chestnut trees running from the Porta Orientale, now 
 known as the Venezia Gate, to the Porta Nuovo, at that 
 time the fashionable drive of the Milanese. 
 
 Therefore, after a few moments, Paola, being seated 
 upon a bench, with one eye on her knitting and the 
 other upon her apprentice, Eugenia leads Da Messina's 
 sweetheart, who seems to care little what she does, to a 
 comfortable spot from which they can view the caval- 
 cade. 
 
 Here Estelle raises her parasol, and appears but 
 slightly interested in the spectacle ; though all the time 
 her companion keeps pointing, and exclaiming : " Look 
 at those horses ! See, dear, there's at least a marchessa 
 in that magnificent equipage! And here's an English 
 milord, I should imagine, with two big, fat flunkies 
 riding on the rumble behind. Dio, Estelle, how boldly 
 those Austrian hussar officers ride ! " 
 
 Thus commenting on the passing show, she contrives 
 to keep Estelle's languid eyes, if not interested, at least 
 alert, though enlivened by the bright scene, for the sun 
 is shining softly through the chestnut trees upon a bril- 
 liant cavalcade that is gradually growing larger, the 
 glances of Da Messina's betrothed become gradually 
 more interested. 
 
 Encouraged by this, Eugenia keeps up her prattle as 
 to passing carriages, discontinued every now and then 
 by the watchful Paola calling her apprentice to her 
 side, and giving her some whispered caution or direc- 
 tion. Finally, she brings misery upon Eugenia by say- 
 ing : " I think I shall take you home, my child. Made- 
 moiselle, over there, seems wearied ; and I want you to
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 255 
 
 rest a little before your dance to-night. You will need 
 it. I shall have you take three encores." 
 
 " But I am brisk as an India-rubber girl, my dear 
 madre! " cries la contessa, trying to be vivacious with a 
 sinking spirit. " Just, please, a little longer, and I'll 
 dance my toes off for you ! " 
 
 " Well, then, five minutes. In that time I can finish 
 this stocking," remarks her padrona. 
 
 Whereupon, striving to keep the disappointment from 
 her face, Eugenia runs briskly to Estelle, and whis- 
 pers : " Have you seen anything very interesting yet ? " 
 then suddenly ejaculates: "Ola! That's a pretty 
 equipage and there's that Captain Radetzky, the 
 friend of our padrone." 
 
 " Yes, there's Franz ! " cries Estelle. Then her eyes 
 becoming bright, she whispers : " Perhaps Carlo will be 
 here ! " but in the next second murmurs : " No, that is 
 impossible. His note said he would be too occupied to 
 even visit me this afternoon." With this, she brings 
 consternation upon Eugenia ; for, rising, she sighs : " I 
 think I'll go home now. There aren't many carriages 
 passing. You won't mind it, dear? Besides, Paola 
 is beckoning to you." 
 
 Though there is despair in her heart, Eugenia will 
 not accept defeat so easily, and sits, doggedly prat- 
 tling on : " See that donkey cart ! " then suddenly cries : 
 " Look there ! There's some commotion ! The few 
 people in the carriages have turned their heads away 
 from that handsome equipage ! " Her voice is very 
 low ; something has got into her throat now. " What 
 can the matter be ? Can you see ? " 
 
 " No hardly ! The sun is shining in my face," re- 
 plies Estelle, shading her eyes with her fan ; then sud- 
 denly she begins to tremble, as a man, standing nearer 
 than she is to the driveway, guffaws to a companion: 
 "San Marco! They are giving that friend of Aus- 
 tria another roast! The people won't look at Signer 
 da Messina High C, though there he goes." 
 
 Her glance following the fellow's gesture, a stifled
 
 256 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 cry rises in Estelle's burning throat ; a little hand goes 
 to a wounded heart! For in a very handsome, open 
 barouche, drawn by two white horses, rides Pergolese, 
 and beside him, in arrogant beauty, the woman who 
 was once his mistress, and whom Estelle now thinks 
 must be again his mistress, Sophie Olinska. 
 
 Eugenia, who has gazed upon her victim, with every 
 sense alert, fears she will faint, for then she will give 
 no tongue; but now, to her astonishment, the pretty 
 nose rises in the air, the delicate nostrils expand, the 
 head is posed haughtily upon the erect neck, and Es- 
 telle, a strange calmness in her voice, though her lips 
 tremble like aspens, says : " Supposing we go, Eu- 
 genia. Paola will be angry with you. I believe she 
 has called you two no, three times." 
 
 A moment later they join Vicenza, to whom Estelle 
 says, half laughingly : " Did you finish your knitting, 
 Madre Paola ? . That's a very pretty stocking you are 
 making, but quite too warm for this spring weather." 
 
 " Oh," observes the dancing mistress, who knows the 
 Milanese climate very well, " this day has been too fine ; 
 soon we will have a storm. The winter isn't ended 
 yet." 
 
 As they drive home, Eugenia looking at the fair face 
 that is opposite to her, finds no sign upon it; though 
 she notices the little hand holding the fan clutches it 
 once or twice so convulsively she can hear its slender 
 pearl sticks break. 
 
 " You haven't whimpered yet to this sting," she 
 thinks. " The only time you cry out is when you get 
 in a rage, as at La Scala last blessed night, when you 
 told me a little. Diavolo ! When we are back in the 
 house, I'll see what anger forces from your secretive 
 lips." 
 
 Whereupon, some quarter of an hour afterward, as 
 her victim, in a distracted way, is pacing the floor of 
 her parlor, wringing her hands in the nervousness of 
 impotent misery, Eugenia, coming to Estelle, throws
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTAL1S. 257 
 
 her arms about her neck, and sobs : " My friend, how 
 I pity you ! " 
 
 " Don't dare to pity me ! " 
 
 The haughty tone tells la contessa that, unless she 
 drives her patient to frenzy, she will scarce obtain the 
 information she must have quickly now, for there are 
 but three days more of Bolza's mercy. 
 
 Therefore she puts Estelle rapidly to the question, 
 with as little compunction as inquisitor racked infidel. 
 
 " How can I help it," she breaks out, " when I see 
 you flaunted for a rival? My God, dear one, you 
 ought to speak to Da Messina ! " 
 
 " I I am too proud to want a love if it does not 
 exist. Why should I speak ? " 
 
 " What ! When even the ballet-girls of old Paola up- 
 stairs are babbling about it ; when it is the chatter of 
 La Scala ; when all Milan is laughing at one tenor and 
 tivo mistresses ? " 
 
 " Two mistresses ! " 
 
 Though the evening has brought darkness, Eugenia 
 can see the delicate face she is reading grow red as fire, 
 then turn pallid and ghastly. " Yes, the great prima 
 donna and the pretty protegee I" she whispers. 
 
 But here the tortured one, struggling from her arms, 
 confronts her, and commands, hoarsely : " Don't dare 
 to say mistress to me again ! Don't you know that I 
 am the promised wife of Da Messina? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " This is a gasp of astonishment from 
 la contessa. 
 
 " Why not ? Have I not the ring of his troth he 
 gave me in Marseilles the night before I first saw you, 
 when he asked me to be his honored wife ? " 
 
 " In Marseilles ? Incredible ! I heard your cries as 
 he beat you." 
 
 " No as he saved me, and took me to his heart, and 
 told me that he loved me! It was so sudden that I 
 cried to him : ' Is it because I know thy secret? ' 
 
 " Because you knew his secret ! " breaks in Eugenia. 
 Then, recollecting Estelle's unguarded words at La,
 
 258 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Scala, with that deft acuteness given to some women, 
 she makes a crafty shot that strikes Estelle's throbbing 
 heart, as she whispers : " He loved you after he dis- 
 covered that you knew of the arms. He feared that 
 you might betray it. That's why he bound you to him 
 by asking you to be his wife." 
 
 " Misericorde, can you be right?" screams Estelle, 
 her eyes opening with a mighty horror. " 'Twas just 
 after I told him that I heard the English manufacturer 
 say he would deliver the arms, wrapped in hay, at 
 Genoa, by the I5th! Grace aDieui That is why Da 
 Messina lied to me when he told me that he loved 
 me ! That is why my Carlo tricked me into believing 
 that I should be his honored wife ! " But here, casting 
 back from her white brow her locks, that have become 
 disheveled, she fights herself, muttering : " Still, has 
 he not treated me with all respect; when, as my pa- 
 drone, he had power almost sufficient to force me to 
 his arms ? I can't believe ! Oh, God, my Carlo ! He 
 he was so tender to me " 
 
 " So tender to you that he drives in open state with 
 his mistress, la belle Sophie ! So tender to you that to- 
 night he gives a fete for la diva at the Cova ! " 
 
 " Im impossible ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! When I, his dancing-girl, pirouette 
 there in Olinska's honor! " jeers Eugenia; adding, as 
 Estelle gives out a harsh, rasping moan : " Paola is 
 waiting to deck me for it. I I wouldn't tell you, dear 
 one, but it is best that you think no more of Da Mes- 
 sina." 
 
 And the torturer's arms support her victim into her 
 chamber, where Estelle falls, gasping, on the bed, her 
 lips muttering inaudibly : " To me he gave but his 
 protestations ; to her the glory of his arms ! " 
 
 But now Eugenia knows enough. Returning to the 
 parlor, she figures rapidly. Her quick brain decides : 
 " Genoa the arms on the I5th ; one day to land them ; 
 two to reach Tortone ; one day for accidents ; the pa- 
 triots will expect them here about the 20th ; they come
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 259 
 
 packed in hay ! What was that I heard from the oste- 
 ria, when that sighing creature in there slipped on cab- 
 bage leaves at mention of hay ? A contract with " 
 she presses her brow in concentrated recollection 
 " with the the Fourth Hussars. Diavolo, I remember 
 now ! This to Bolza, and I am free ! " 
 
 A few half-broken sobs from the next room tell her 
 she need fear no interruptions from her patient. If 
 she runs up-stairs, Paola will call to her. She sits 
 hurriedly down at a writing-desk, and on Estelle's paper 
 writes her communication to the head of police. 
 
 This she does not dare to blot, fearing some sharp 
 eyes may read the reversed inscription. So she waves 
 it before the fire till dry ; thinking how to get the letter 
 out of the house. As Eugenia debates this, she is 
 stricken with her helpless state. She is not permitted 
 to write; she can not pass the doorkeeper. 
 
 Suddenly an idea, born in the Lower Regions, and 
 vivid as their fires, springs into her subtle mind. She 
 seals the letter, and, filling the pen with ink, walks into 
 the chamber where Estelle is lying, tossing restlessly. 
 To her she says : " Dear one, could you do me a great 
 favor? I want so much to send a note to a friend, 
 and you know Paola does not permit me to correspond, 
 fearing that I may have a gallant. You send out let- 
 ters every day ; would you kindly address this and for- 
 ward it?" 
 
 " Yes ; I I am not too tired to do you so small a 
 favor, dear Eugenia," replies her victim ; and, rising, 
 half totters to a chair beside a nearby table. As the pen 
 is placed in her hand, she asks : " To whom ? " 
 
 " Signer Enrico Donetto, No. 17 Via Santa Marghe- 
 rita, Milano." 
 
 " Yes, but please say it slowly as I write, so I make 
 no error ; and has Donetto two n's or one ? " 
 
 " One," replies her mentor, and dictates the address, 
 which Estelle scribbles upon the envelope. 
 
 Then, ringing the bell, la contessa suggests : " Would
 
 26O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 you kindly give it to Josepha. From you it will pass 
 without question." 
 
 Whereupon the abigail coming bustling in, Estelle 
 places in her hand the letter, saying: " Here is a mark ; 
 run quickly with this ! Put it in the general post, and 
 buy chocolates with the change." And so sends forth 
 from her chamber a little note that is as a snowball roll- 
 ing down an Alpine glacier soon to become an ava- 
 lanche. 
 
 For this epistle will stir up in this city, first a fer- 
 ment, then such battle of townsmen against the dis- 
 ciplined legions of their tyrants that, as their naked 
 hands close on the Austrian bayonets, the great Empire 
 of the Hapsburgs rocks to its foundations. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SAVED BY ONE WHIFF OF A CIGAR. 
 
 Reclining upon her cot, resting for her coming exer- 
 cises this evening, the lady spy laughs : " I've placated 
 Bolza, and in a few days more he'll get me out of Vi- 
 cenza's clutches ! " 
 
 So, after a good, easy, conscienceless sleep, this even- 
 ing, about eight o'clock, after being bathed, and Josepha 
 having dressed her hair, the debutante is led in a long, 
 white wrapper and bare, slippered feet to her padrona's 
 chamber, to be decked for Da Messina's fete. 
 
 Here Eugenia, who seems in the highest spirits, see- 
 ing upon the bed a frock of softest, blue tissue, flecked 
 with silver, so short it might be for a veritable child, 
 cries, airily : " My, what a pretty jupe you've got for 
 me, dear madre!" and laughs: " Evoe, have I got to 
 wear so much? " For this, with half a dozen little, 
 transparent petticoats of blue gauze, silken fleshings, so 
 light that their sheeny web seems gossamer, and tiny, 
 white dancing slippers, will be her costume. 
 
 "Per Baccho, but I'll make you a fairy!" remarks
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 261 
 
 Paola; and, taking la contessa in her strong hands, 
 robes her with as little ceremony as a nurse would 
 dress an infant; every now and then remarking on 
 her beauty, and once chuckling : " For this first appear- 
 ance, ten golden pieces ! Cospetto, if I can but get the 
 other half of your indentures from Da Messina ! Even 
 now I feel as if you were all mine." 
 
 At this, thinking of Paola's despair when, in a day 
 or two, Bolza frees her, Eugenia laughs so merrily that 
 her padrona, giving the shoulders that gleam before 
 her a warning slap, says : " Quiet, my pet, while I put 
 this camellia in your hair." 
 
 Then, being decked to her mistress's, liking, and look- 
 ing light enough to trip upon a cloud, Vicenza, stand- 
 ing her prize before her, commands : " No word to 
 loungers about the restaurant. I go with you. Any 
 flippant conduct I will chastise, as if you were my own 
 child ! Do you understand me !" and gazes with hawk's 
 eyes upon her subject until la contessa droops her head, 
 and whispers : " Yes, mia padrona," meaning obedi- 
 ence with all her heart. 
 
 A few minutes after, in a little vestibule of the Cova 
 opening into the supper-room, where Pergolese's fete 
 is in progress, la contessa stands posed for her en- 
 trance. 
 
 To her Paola says : " Hark, that is thy music ! " for 
 the little orchestra is striking up the Hungarian polka. 
 Opening the door, she commands : " Quick, child ! 
 Run in, salute, and do thy best ! " 
 
 And Eugenia, spurred by a warning she sees upon 
 her padrona's face, flies in, and dances before the sup- 
 per party like a sylph. But even as they applaud her 
 circles and pirouettes, noting the distress upon Da Mes- 
 sina's countenance at unexpected sight of her, the balle- 
 rina laughs to herself: "Santa Maria, he must love 
 Estelle ! His looks show he fears she will hear of this 
 entertainment to Olinska. It is very curious he did 
 not make the little thing his mistress before he returned 
 to that diva over there,"
 
 262 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 So, while Pergolese once or twice gazes grimly at 
 Franz for his ballet surprise, Madre Vicenza's dancing- 
 girl makes a great triumph. 
 
 But after an encore, chancing to make her exit 
 through the wrong door, a gentleman, sitting all alone 
 in another private room, whispers a few words to la 
 contessa. 
 
 From this, with rather a startled look upon her face, 
 she comes back, stammering to Paola : " I I made 
 such a strange mistake in the door. I got in another 
 apartment, where a gentleman fs dining by himself." 
 
 " Yes, I saw," says the dancing mistress, grimly ; 
 then chuckles : " I will warrant he said you were the 
 prettiest thing in Milan this night ! " 
 
 " That's just what he did say, madre" whispers the 
 debutante, as she is being wrapped up very carefully 
 from the night air, preparatory to being taken home. 
 
 But, after the doors of the old house in the Via 
 Oriani have closed upon them, Paola, changing her 
 tone, queries : " The name of the man who spoke to 
 thee, my pet, in that private dining-room ? What said 
 he to thee ? " 
 
 And la contessa answering nothing, though there is a 
 frightened look in her violet eyes, her mistress con- 
 tinues, more sharply : " Come, come ! Whisper it in 
 my ear. Paola has managed too many friponnes to be- 
 lieve thy mistake was accidental." 
 
 To this Eugenia makes no reply ; though her grace- 
 ful knees tremble as she walks up the stairs beside her 
 gaunt mistress, whose strong hand has taken hold of 
 her delicate wrist. 
 
 Arriving at her chamber, where Josepha meets them, 
 Paola, as they divest Eugenia of her wraps, sneers : 
 ''' This child is so elated with her success ! She has a 
 gallant unknown to me ; she is so arrogant she will- 
 not favor me with his name," and gazes sternly upon 
 the fairy creature, who, in light dancing robe, seems 
 penitent enough, for her eyes, already limpid, are be-
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 263 
 
 seeching her padrona, and her lips now plead : " Please, 
 madre, I I do not know the gallant's name ! " 
 
 " Corpo di Diavolo, don't fib to me ! " growls her au- 
 tocrat ; then commands : " Josepha, if our princessa 
 down-stairs does not want her company this evening, 
 take this amorous rogue and lock her up in her cham- 
 ber no, she shall have no supper and to-morrow 
 morning bring her to me. Perhaps with a night's re- 
 flection she will t.ll her little story to her madre. If 
 she hasn't found tongue then, diavolo, I will give her 
 one! Tush, you needn't beg with those blue eyes! 
 ,Wag your tongue if you would have my mercy." 
 
 And Eugenia being led away, as the key turns upon 
 her in her chamber at length finds tongue, and cries, de- 
 spairingly : " God pity me ! In what a hideous scrape 
 I've got myself! I dare not tell Paola that it was 
 an agent of Boiza who spoke to me, and told me I 
 must remain in Vicenza's service till further command. 
 O Madonna mia, what shall I do ! Even if the doors 
 were open, I dare not run away ! They say no suspi- 
 cion must come upon my errand until they seize Pergo- 
 lese. A thousand curses upon that fool Donetto, who 
 beckoned me through the slightly opened door so slyly 
 that I must come into him ! " Then she clenches her 
 hands, and mutters viciously, imitating Paola : " If the 
 princessa down there doesn't want company ! O Madre 
 Dolorosa! If I could make Da Messina think his pam- 
 pered darling gave him to death! That would be a 
 victory ! " 
 
 Though upon this night of her success the spy's 
 slumbers are not so pleasant ; and tears fall upon her 
 pillow, as she now almost wishes she had never sent 
 the letter. 
 
 But this epistle within forty-eight hours produces 
 much more serious consequences. 
 
 The second day from this, at four o'clock, the Aus- 
 trian officer walks quite excitedly into Estelle's parlor, 
 where that young lady, who had kept her bed for
 
 264 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 twenty-four hours, is half reclining, with downcast 
 air. 
 
 " I am glad that you are alone, gnadiges fraulein," 
 he says, as he kisses the hand she languidly extends 
 to him. " I am here to ask you, as Carlo's affianced 
 wife, one question " 
 
 "Carlo's affianced wife! You know?" cries Es- 
 telle, her eyes, which had been drooping, becoming as- 
 tounded. 
 
 " Yes ; the other evening, after Da Messina had in- 
 troduced me at a petit souper to a lady with whom he 
 
 was aware I was enraptured, I said to him But, 
 
 pardon me ; you are so innocent I hardly think it wise 
 to tell you." 
 
 " Oh, please do please do ! You owe it to me now ; 
 you have said too much to stop. What did you say? " 
 begs Estelle, her face, that had been pale on Franz's 
 entrance, beginning to regain its color. 
 
 " Well, this lady had had once been in love with 
 Pergolese. To him I remarked : ' You are very gen- 
 erous in aiding a rival.' To me Carlo answered : ' No 
 rival ! I have but one love on this earth. I have been 
 debating the matter in my mind, and now I believe 
 it best, for my affianced's sake, to tell you, my inti- 
 mate, that I have but one love, the woman I am going 
 to marry.' And that was you, my little lady ! " 
 
 " O Dieu, merci ! Carlo told you that ? " cries the 
 girl, her eyes throwing off their load of torture, and 
 growing bright with happiness. " Thank you, dear 
 Franz, for whispering it to me ! " 
 
 To this Radetzky does not directly answer, but goes 
 on quietly and in low tones, as if he had some unpleas- 
 ant business on his hands : " As Da Messina's be- 
 trothed, I ask you, as woman to man, can you show to 
 me that this gentleman you love is not connected with 
 the movement that we call ' Young Italy,' which pur- 
 poses to assault the integrity of the Austrian Empire by 
 rebellion in Venetia and Lombardy? "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 265 
 
 "Can I prove to you that Carlo is not Italian?" 
 gasps Estelle. 
 
 " No ; of course I know his family is an old one in 
 Milan. But I want sure proof that your affianced is 
 not of those who would make war upon us. I myself 
 can not believe it, for Da Messina gives such open 
 friedship to me, who wear Austria's uniform, that it 
 has even lost him the friendship of his people. There- 
 fore, I beg you, as you love this man, show me some 
 little fact that will prove Pergolese is not an enemy of 
 the government my uncle represents." 
 
 " Prove to you he is not a Oh, that is a difficult 
 
 matter ! " falters Estelle, her eyes growing nervous, for 
 the German captain's manner indicates his curious de- 
 mand is very seriously made. 
 
 Noting her agitation, he says, earnestly : " Believe 
 me, I would not ask it did I not have it in me to do 
 something at which my mind rebels but my heart de- 
 mands, because it means the safety of one to whom I 
 am as a Jonathan to David " 
 
 " You you mean Carlo's safety ? Let me think, 
 dear Franz ! " Then she pleads : " Will you not do 
 what is in your mind unless you know ? " 
 
 " No ! Like every other officer, I have placed my 
 lips on my sword-hilt to the Austrian colors. That 
 oath I do not violate. Prove to me that he is " 
 
 " Oh, it is a hard problem ! " she murmurs, and 
 thinks with all her mind; then suddenly gives a little, 
 fluttering, delighted gasp : " I can do it ! " 
 
 " God bless you, dear little one ! " and he is kissing 
 her hands. 
 
 "If you saw Carlo smoking a cigar, which is con- 
 demned by every patriot Milanese ; if I proved to you 
 that he smoked every evening, but fearing to be insulted 
 by his townsmen, does so secretly would that make 
 you believe ? " 
 
 " Of course it would. A member of Young Italy 
 would as soon take poison as a cigar ! " replies Franz, 
 eagerly ; adding, in unbelief : " But that's impossible.
 
 266 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Carlo has refused, even in private, my cigar-case, till I 
 offer it to him no more." 
 
 " Impossible?" Were not the captain's manner so 
 serious, Estelle might laugh; as it is, she remarks, 
 archly : " Put your German nose quite close to these 
 curtains ; scent them carefully." 
 
 Striding to the draperies, Franz takes one big sniff. 
 " Ach Gott! They do smell suspiciously unpatriotic ! " 
 he remarks. 
 
 " Here's more evidence ! " and leading him into her 
 chamber in careless innocence, Estelle opens her trunk, 
 and whispers : " A hundred of these Regalias were 
 here when we arrived. Count you now how many ! " 
 Then, noting his astonished eyes, she smiles : " You 
 don't suppose / smoked them ? " 
 
 " Mein Himmel, they are well-nigh half consumed ! 
 Still, make me a little more certain, for this I contem- 
 plate doing is such an awful wrench of every military 
 instinct ! " Then, the veins standing out on his fore- 
 head, the representative of Austrian militarism shud- 
 ders : " Mein Gott, if my uncle knew ! " but says, de- 
 terminedly : " Prove it to me beyond a doubt ! " 
 
 " You shall see him smoke ! " whispers Estelle. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " When next he comes here." 
 
 " That must be, for his sake, very soon." 
 
 " If he loves me, my Carlo will surely come to-night. 
 Your eyes shall behold him doing the unpatriotic act," 
 she says, vivaciously ; for at conviction of Da Messina's 
 love Estelle's face, despite anxiety, is radiant. Then 
 she whispers quickly : " Wait in the street this even- 
 ing till you see the lights burn up in all my windows ; 
 at that come quietly here, and knock twice upon this 
 parlor door ; and I will arrange that, even as you enter, 
 my Carlo will have the proof between his very lips." 
 
 Here Franz's manner beats all joy out of her counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but I am afraid that will not 
 do," he answers, hesitatingly. " Believe me, I do not
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 267 
 
 doubt your word, honored lady ; but this is a matter of 
 my conscience betwixt me, my Emperor, and my God ! 
 There must be such conduct of the affair that you have 
 no opportunity to give your affianced word of warning. 
 Any man would smoke a cigar to save his life." 
 
 " To save his life ? My loved one's life ? You you 
 mean that? " she gasps, as if she can't quite realize all 
 the horror of his words. 
 
 " By my love for him, would that I did not ! " sighs 
 Franz ; then mutters : " For God's sake, give me such 
 evidence that I may save my comrade without being 
 traitor to my country ! " 
 
 At this, Estelle presses her hands to her brow, and 
 thinks with all her bright mind ; then, though her sweet 
 voice trembles, she says, simply : " You want such 
 proof that I have no previous word with him ; so that, 
 of his own accord, of his own volition, my Carlo does 
 this thing which will make you sure he is no member 
 of the party called ' Young Italy ' ? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Then come here not later than a quarter to seven 
 o'clock this evening." Her voice is low, her manner 
 agonized. " Come here, and in that chamber I will 
 prove it to you." 
 
 "Thank you, gnadiges fraulein!" and, kissing her 
 hand, the German goes away, giving a passing bow to 
 Eugenia, who has just glided quietly in. In the gloom, 
 neither have noticed her ; and even as Franz passes her 
 he does not mark the devil that dominates the anguish 
 in her eyes. 
 
 But Estelle's last few words have, unfortunately, been 
 overheard by a woman who has endured a punishment 
 which has made her burn for revenge upon the world, 
 and most of all upon her sister bound-girl, who lives in 
 the luxury of a pampered princess, while she receives 
 the discipline of her station. 
 
 For, the previous morning, la contessa had been taken 
 en peignor to her padrona's chamber, and, not daring to 
 answer Paola's questions, had received such chastise-
 
 268 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 ment as makes her a fiend. Even as Josepha had re- 
 ceived the culprit from the motherly arms of Vicenza, 
 and carried her back to her room, sobbing and whimper- 
 ing like a child, through all the streaming tears she sees 
 a devil in those blue eyes that makes her shudder, re- 
 membering tales she had heard of poison and the 
 Borgias. 
 
 And now released from confinement, the fire that 
 still flecks her tender limbs lights in her heart the fire 
 of Hades, especially against her more fortunate sister. 
 
 Therefore, this evening, a kind of demoniacal exulta- 
 tion in her fevered mind, Eugenia, while Estelle is en- 
 gaged in Paola's room, asking that the German officer 
 be permitted to come to her parlor without announce- 
 ment, takes opportunity to glide into her victim's cham- 
 ber, and conceal herself in the closet that had held her 
 so safely a few evenings before. 
 
 As with noiseless steps she passes through Estelle's 
 parlor, for some occult reason, Eugenia picks up and 
 takes with her a heavy book of bound music, the score 
 of some voluminous opera. In her hiding place, guess- 
 ing what will come to her, this lady spy sneers : " Es- 
 telle said she would prove what he demanded to Franz 
 in her very chamber. She is about to revenge herself 
 upon Da Messina for slighted love with his boon com- 
 panion and trusted comrade. Diavolo ! Under proper 
 management, this may become a tragedy, as medieval 
 as in the time of that Visconti over yonder " she nods 
 toward the Castello " who spared no man in his anger, 
 no woman in his lust." 
 
 With this, she holds her breath, fearing the beating 
 of her exultant heart may give them warning of her, 
 as she hears Estelle, a little before seven o'clock this 
 evening, show Franz into her chamber, and say to him, 
 pleadingly : " Upon your circumspection depends the 
 faith of my future husband in the honor of his coming 
 wife. Were it not to save his life, I would not do 
 this thing. Sit here ; it is the only hiding place I can 
 give you. Listen, and believe that Pergolese smokes
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 269 
 
 the unpatriotic weed without any hint from me. To 
 make you more certain, I will go to Carlo from you, just 
 as he enters, so that no word can reach him from me, 
 without your hearing it, while I present to my affianced 
 what will give you sufficient faith in him to make you 
 speak words that seem very hard to draw from com- 
 rade's lips to save another comrade's life ; one who, for 
 his sake, has taken the scoffs and jeers of his kindred." 
 
 " Were it anything but my military duty, I would not 
 ask it of you," sighs the German officer ; " but even 
 what I do now would be enough to make my comrades 
 think me traitor. And, by the God of Heaven, I will 
 not think myself traitor, too! I will know that I am 
 saving one innocent of conspiracy." 
 
 Almost as he speaks, there is a sound in the corridor 
 of approaching steps ; and Estelle, her heart beating as 
 if it would tear itself out of her fair breast, puts her 
 finger on Franz's lips, and seizes a handful of the 
 cigars. 
 
 Then, as Pergolese, with a flush of excitement on 
 his face, enters, his affianced, who now is very pale, runs 
 out to greet him ; and, as she gives him the salute of 
 sweetheart, says, archly, though there is a little quiver 
 on her lips : " Carlo mio, as usual a cigar? " 
 
 " Cospetto, with great pleasure ! I haven't had one 
 for two days ! " laughs Carlo ; and salutes the pretty 
 fingers that hold the dainties toward him. 
 
 " If you had come earlier, you would have had both 
 cigars and kisses before." 
 
 " Yes, but I have had other things upon my mind. 
 
 I " By the grace of God he checks himself ; for it 
 
 is waiting for tidings of the coming arms that has kept 
 him from his love. 
 
 But being desperately afraid that some chance word 
 by Da Messina will destroy him, Estelle stops -her lov- 
 er's mouth with a kiss, and breaks in : " Please smoke ! 
 I'll not let you say a word until tobacco has taken the 
 gloom from thy brow ! Look at me and smoke ! " 
 
 Whereupon he, putting the cigar in his lips, sits down
 
 270 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 and puffs out such clouds of vapor as he reclines in 
 smoker's paradise that Franz, sitting in the darkness of 
 the adjoining chamber, utters to himself an exclama- 
 tion of fervid joy : " Thank God, I can save him ! This 
 man I love is innocent of conspiracy against my coun- 
 try!" 
 
 Perchance, had Radetzky waited longer, some word 
 from Pergolese's patriot lips would have destroyed his 
 faith; for late this afternoon a man covered with the 
 dust of travel, brushing by him on the street, has whis- 
 pered : " Genoa ! " which told him the weapons for this 
 town were now in Italy. 
 
 But as Da Messina sits in the parlor, looking lov- 
 ingly at his betrothed, the sound of a book falling in 
 his sweetheart's chamber makes him start up, and say : 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 "I Oh, God!" 
 
 Did Pergolese see the face of his betrothed, it would 
 condemn her ; for innocence has fear as well as guilt. 
 
 But he has no thought of any intrigue, and, stepping 
 to the room, remarks : " It may be some thief, who has 
 sneaked into the house." 
 
 Yet at the door, encountering a stalwart, German 
 form, with honest eyes and pale face, coming out to 
 meet him, Carlo, starting back, mutters : " Good God ! 
 My friend ! " 
 
 Then casting astounded eyes about, he sees the white- 
 robed figure of his sweetheart sinking down before him, 
 and whispering with bloodless lips : " Oh, God, I am 
 innocent ! I I did it, my Carlo, to save thy life ! " 
 
 " That is true as the Word of God ! " says the Ger- 
 man officer. " I asked the boon from thy betrothed, 
 that I might see coming from your unwarned lips that 
 smoke which shows you are no member of the party 
 of ' Young Italy.' By her devotion to you, your pure 
 one has proved it to me. Now, my word to you ! " 
 
 As this extraordinary speech assaults his astounded 
 ears, Pergolese stands gazing from the frank eyes of 
 his comrade to the beaming truth in the pure face of his
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 love wonderingly, for he can not believe what to other 
 men might seem certain proof. 
 
 As he thinks, Radetzky's voice breaks in haughtily 
 upon him : " You can believe this or not, as you like. 
 If you doubt my honor, and the innocence of this hon- 
 ored lady, who loves you with her whole heart, I can 
 always give the satisfaction of an Austrian officer to a 
 gentleman who thinks he has been wronged. But this 
 I tell you, Carlo by Heaven, I will call you that still ! 
 I came here to warn you, on receiving certain evidence 
 that you were no conspirator ; that proof, by the bless- 
 ing of God and the devotion of your pure sweetheart, I 
 have ; and here's my warning, given to you because you 
 are a friend of friends, one who, for me, has borne the 
 flaunting and scoffing of his city. As such, I tell you 
 that, from my knowledge which has drifted to me as 
 a member of the General's staff, as the favorite nephew 
 of the great Marshal himself, who questioned me as to 
 you before he reluctantly signed the warrant that the 
 order for thy arrest is issued. Court-martials are very 
 fatal now. Fly while there is yet time ! " 
 
 " Time ! " answers Da Messina, excitedly, yet bit- 
 terly. " Impossible ! There is no time ; arrests are 
 made within the minute; trials take place within two 
 hours that is Austrian justice to Italians ! We won't 
 discuss this, I pray you." 
 
 " But I tell you there is time. Oh, God, sometimes 
 I feel that I am a traitor! But I inform you that I 
 know from the secret police, one or two of their higher 
 officers courting my favor, that, though the warrant 
 was issued to-day, for some reason I know not, you will 
 not be arrested till the 2Oth. Therefore, my David, 
 save yourself, and get you gone ! " 
 
 " The 20th ! " whispers Da Messina. " The 20th! " 
 A horrified look comes into his eyes, perhaps one more 
 terrible than had been in his features before ; for in this 
 date he sees that not only danger has come to himself, 
 but to every other patriot in Milano. 
 
 " God knows whether I ought to have told you ! "
 
 272 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 sighs Franz. " But how I despise these crawling, po- 
 lice spies, that stab a gentleman behind his back ! You 
 know we military do not favor Bolza and his mouchards 
 very much. Therefore I hand you this envelope ; the 
 handwriting seemed to me slightly familiar. Though 
 I can not recollect it, I may have seen it. But in this 
 envelope came the words that brought suspicion upon 
 you ; I had it from an agent of Bolza who fawns upon 
 the favorite nephew of the Governor of Lombardy." 
 
 The German passes the envelope to the Italian, but 
 Da Messina does not immediately look at it ; for now 
 his glance is riveted upon the fair being, who has caught 
 his other hand, and the pure face that is gazing upon 
 him, as if she were pleading at the gates of Heaven. 
 
 Noting her posture, Franz says, hoarsely : " My God, 
 you must believe her ! You must believe me ! It would 
 be too great an infamy to doubt that angel, though you 
 doubt a comrade! Carlo, I have proved my faith in 
 you by doing what might give me not only death but 
 dishonor before an Austrian court-martial. Say in re- 
 ply to me, my Carlo, by the love this sweet girl gives 
 to you ; by the love I have shown you this night, that 
 you believe both her and me ! " 
 
 " I do ! " Pergolese with one strong hand grasps his 
 comrade's, and with the other that of his love; and, 
 bringing them together in his clasp, whispers : " Franz, 
 I can't look up into your face and doubt her; I can't 
 look into her eyes and not believe you!" 
 
 So, with a muttered " Good-by till better times ! 
 Lebe wohl mein bruder! Save yourself! " and another 
 strong clasp of Carlo's hand, the German leaves the 
 room with hurried steps ; and passing down the stair- 
 way, gets out into the street. 
 
 But here he suddenly pauses, and turns back a pace 
 or two ; then continues on his way, saying : " But no ; 
 that is impossible. The book dropped in the room 
 behind me NOT IN THE CHAMBER OF ESTELLE ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " I WILL MAKE SACRIFICE ! " 
 
 Left together, Da Messina gives another glance of 
 faith at his sweetheart's face, which, even in her fear 
 for him, is radiant ; then, drawing Estelle to him, his 
 kisses show that he has no doubt of her love and truth. 
 
 But, even in his arms, she whispers : " Fly ! For 
 God's sake, take the generous warning given to you! 
 Fly!" 
 
 " How? Without a passport " 
 
 " Ah, but you can yet away you have five days ! " 
 
 " Those five days are what decide me to stay here ! 
 This is the i5th; five days means the 2Oth of March. 
 This five days' freedom is given me so that to Milan 
 may come no suspicion that Bolza has discovered that 
 the arms with which we are to strike arrive upon the 
 2Oth. That is the significance of Bolza's mercy to 
 Pergolese. If they arrest me, who made the contracts 
 for them, the arms will be held in Genoa or Tortone. 
 If they let me remain free till the hay wagons cross the 
 frontier, Foscari and every patriot driver will fall vic- 
 tims to Austria, and the weapons will be seized. With 
 them will go the last hope of my people. I must see 
 the Central Committee immediately ; I must give warn- 
 ing to those who are with me. To do this, I should 
 know who has betrayed me. This envelope Franz gave 
 me to disclose to an innocent man a secret enemy, will 
 discover to me a conspirator, perhaps someone in our 
 councils, who has betrayed us. Gran Dio! Perchance 
 some Judas in the Committee ! " 
 
 As he says this, Carlo turns the envelope over in his 
 hand, and, noting the handwriting of the address, his 
 face becomes like a death-mask; but, forcing himself 
 to compare this carefully with three little love letters 
 taken from his breast, the strong man trembles, and has 
 to clutch a table to keep from falling. 
 
 Then his eyes blaze with an awful agony ; he mut-
 
 274 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 ters : " I have discovered the Judas ! O God, what 
 finesse, what subtlety, to strike me down ! No wonder 
 the papers said La Baronne de Portalis was in England ! 
 You are a female Austrian spy, as I first guessed! 
 Threatened with my knife, by an inspiration of the 
 Devil you assumed the name of that fleeing aristocrate, 
 and thus tricked me ! God, how you have played your 
 game ! " Then he moans : " Oh, darling of my heart ! 
 Oh, traitress, that I would have taken as my bride into 
 my arms ! " next snarls, hoarsely : " But you don't es- 
 cape me ! Other men have sacrificed what they loved 
 upon the altar of their country ! Austrian mouche, thy 
 time has come ! You are under my knife again ! You 
 die here ! " and draws the same stiletto that had flashed 
 over her heart in the postchaise near Montereau. 
 
 At this, Estelle, who has been gazing upon him, 
 thinking him insane, stammers : " Die here ? What 
 do you mean ? " then gasps : " You think me an Aus- 
 trian spy, who would betray the man I love to death ? " 
 
 " Miserable wretch, you never loved me ! " 
 
 " Then, if you doubt my love, kill me ! " Her eyes 
 blaze with unutterable reproach ; her fair hand bares 
 a bosom beautiful as a marble of Canova's, but throb- 
 bing at injustice. " But first, in very common-sense," 
 she whispers, " prove that I am the wretch you say, 
 my Carlo an accursed spy, who would for Austrian 
 money doom the man she adores to death ! " 
 
 For answer, he simply passes to her the envelope the 
 German officer had given him; and she reading upon 
 it " SIGNOR ENRICO DONETTO, No. 17 VIA SANTA 
 MARGHERITA, MILAN," written in her own hand, 
 gasps, " EUGENIA ! " in voice so low that he can 
 scarcely distinguish it, as she sinks down before him 
 as inert as if his stiletto was in her heart. 
 
 At the name, as if by magic, comes to him divination 
 of the truth! 
 
 With a cry of horrified self-reproach, Da Messina 
 sinks down before the woman his condemnation had 
 tortured to insensibility, and, gathering her to his
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 275 
 
 breast, fondles her as if she were his life; and tries 
 to revive Estelle, who is now like a statute in the arms 
 she loves. 
 
 Finally, thinking he feels no pulse, he mutters, mad- 
 ly : "Good God! I've killed the tenderest heart on 
 earth ! " and dashes to Paola's room, to get her aid. 
 
 Taking this opportunity, Eugenia glides from out the 
 closet, through the chamber, and through the parlor, 
 giving one glance of hate at the pale face that lies, quiet 
 as death, upon the floor ; and so gets, trembling, to her 
 little room up-stairs. Curiously, she knows very little 
 of what happened. After she threw down the book 
 that brought about what she imagines a catastrophe 
 from the moment that Franz stepped out of the cham- 
 ber into the more distant parlor these people's voices 
 had been so low she could not catch their meaning. 
 She has been afraid from their very silence to move 
 from her closet ; but Pergolese's wild cry, as he thinks 
 Estelle dead, has given the spy such curiosity that, com- 
 ing partly forth, she has seen her opportunity of escape 
 without discovery. 
 
 Five minutes after, by the use of stimulants that 
 Mother Vicenza brings to him, Pergolese gets sentiency 
 to his sweetheart. 
 
 As she, lying upon a sofa, opens her eyes, fearing a 
 revelation from her tongue, Da Messina orders all 
 others from the room, and locks the door upon him- 
 self and his betrothed. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear one," he implores, " that, for a 
 moment, seeing thy handwriting, I said words for 
 which I could tear out my tongue ! " 
 
 " Darling, when you looked into my eyes, and asked 
 no other proof that I was pure, makes me forgive all 
 else ! " she answers ; and her pale lips upturned to his, 
 her arms opened to him, assure him not only of pardon 
 but devotion. 
 
 But, even in her embrace, he whispers : " Speak 
 quickly ! Tell me all ! " 
 
 And Estelle, describing to him what had happened^
 
 276 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 begs him to forgive her, explaining that she was nearly 
 crazy with despair and jealousy when she cried out 
 words to Eugenia that, in her agony, almost now seem 
 to her a nightmare. 
 
 But giving him all the information, Pergolese, plac- 
 ing the envelope carefully in his pocket, says to her 
 words that, as they soothe, drive her distracted. " I 
 should have been more careful, dear. I should never, 
 in the first place, by any carelessness let your ears catch 
 the secret of my country's arnis. Besides, I should 
 never, by my exertions to gain the friendship of a true, 
 German gentleman which friendship he has nobly 
 proved to me this night have given chance of wound 
 to thy dear heart. As it is, by my fault, I have brought, 
 perhaps, the shambles to those who trust me ; and have 
 God forgive me ! left my town, helpless, naked, and 
 
 unarmed, against its Austrian tyrants " He rises 
 
 determinedly. 
 
 " You go from me ? " she shudders. " My God, 
 they may arrest you in the street! I I shall never 
 see you again, my Carlo ! " 
 
 " No, I am safer for the present than any patriot in 
 this city," he answers, grimly. " The claws that are 
 over me, ready to strike, protect me till they close. 
 My liberty gives me and my city one chance; that 
 chance I take." 
 
 As he speaks, she utters a low cry of horror ; for on 
 Da Messina's face is that extreme exaltation which 
 comes to patriot when he contemplates an act of de- 
 votion to his country that may give him a martyr's 
 crown. 
 
 " Don't go ! By your face, I see you are about to die ! 
 Don't kill me too ! Give me a little hope give me one 
 chance that I shall feel thy arms again about me, and 
 be your bride ! " 
 
 Her lips are sweet enough to call a dead man back 
 to life ; her loveliness so winning in her despair that, to 
 make this fair creature bride, a lover might give up 
 paradise. Thinking this as he holds her in his arms,
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 277 
 
 Carlo says, determinedly : " I will give myself all 
 chances." 
 
 "Thank God!" 
 
 " Have you the power, dear one, to give a slight as- 
 sistance ? " 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 " Have you self-command to guard from Eugenia, 
 by word, deed, and look, that she is suspected ? " 
 
 " Only by keeping from her vile sight ! " 
 
 " Then don't let her look on you. If Bolza guesses 
 that I even suspect, with that goes my liberty and all 
 hope. At present, he thinks me a sleeping snake, and 
 lets me lie dormant." 
 
 " Yes," she answers, in simple determination. " For 
 the lover who saw a man in my chamber in the darkness 
 of night, and yet gave not even a glance which showed 
 he doubted my purity and faith to him, I can do every- 
 thing, anything ! " 
 
 With this assurance from her lips, Da Messina leaves 
 his betrothed, who, under plea of illness, locks her par- 
 lor door, and strides the room, distracted, but safe from 
 observation. 
 
 Getting out from the Via Oriani for even now it is 
 scarce eight o'clock in the evening Pergolese, taking 
 extraordinary precautions to prevent his being traced, 
 make his way cautiously, but rapidly, to the house of 
 the Central Committee. 
 
 Here, making the required salute upon the door, and 
 passing by some members of " Young Italy " who, as 
 usual, are on guard about the building, he reaches the 
 room in which he had given to the Central Committee 
 but a little over a week ago the tidings of the coming 
 arms. 
 
 As he enters, Da Messina's face and manner show 
 to his fellow-patriots that he brings them very serious 
 tidings. 
 
 Fortunately, there chance to be present this evening 
 Manara and il Conte Cesaresco, one of the most prom- 
 inent patriot leaders. The latter is remarking : " I
 
 278 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 am thinking, Luciano, that to-morrow I will go off to 
 our mountains, by the Lago di Guarda, and bring with 
 me, at the proper time, some of my Brescian peasants 
 and lake boatmen, whose brawny sinews and brave 
 hearts will do quite well about the 2Oth." 
 
 " Pardon me, Luciano," interjects Da Messina; " but 
 could you send out, without attracting attention or com- 
 ment, and get quickly here a majority of the Com- 
 mittee?" 
 
 " By your face, Carlo, it is important ! " whispers 
 Manara. 
 
 " It is life or death ! " 
 
 So, various trusted messengers being dispatched, in 
 the course of half an hour there are gathered together 
 in this old, dark, wainscoted room of the Italian pal- 
 ace, that in its time had doubtless seen conspiracy 
 against Sforza or Visconti, men who have in their faces 
 that peculiar look which indicates that they live, facing 
 each day sudden death. 
 
 " You have some news to give us, Da Messina ? " 
 asks Gabrio Casati, the Podesta of Milan. 
 
 " Yes, news that would never have come to me unless 
 I had been friend of an Austrian officer, for which you 
 have seen me flaunted in the streets and hissed off the 
 stage of La Scala. For that Austrian, if it comes to 
 battle, I pray you. My brothers, in case by any hap of 
 war Captain Franz Radetzky falls into your hands, give 
 him quarter." 
 
 " Sapristi! Not unless he surrenders in a hurry! " 
 snarls Colonel Labat. " But you said you had some im- 
 portant news to tell. This is very momentous, asking 
 mercy for a single Austrian captain, when we hope to 
 slay these white-coats by the thousands." 
 
 " That is not my cause for calling the Committee to- 
 gether," answers Da Messina, shortly. " To me has 
 leaked out the fact that, though a. warrant has been 
 issued for my arrest, it will not be served upon me 
 until the 2Oth of this month. You know what that 
 date means."
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 279 
 
 " By Heaven, the day the arms arrive ! " cries Lu- 
 ciano. 
 
 " Yes, that is the reason Bolza will not seize me until 
 our munitions of war are here. From it, I judge he 
 knows the arms are coming. As the hay wagons drive 
 through the Tosa Gate, the Austrian troops will have 
 these weapons at their mercy; and, worse than that, 
 Foscari and forty brave men who are taking their lives 
 in their hands to bring them to us. After that, we will 
 be more helpless than before. We will not even have 
 hope ; for be assured Carlo Alberto, though he has fifty 
 thousand men ready upon the frontier, will not strike 
 for us till we strike for ourselves." 
 
 At this there are some very pale faces about the lable ; 
 and one says, savagely : " By Heaven, Bolza, by your 
 own carelessness, must have discovered that you, Da 
 Messina, were importing the arms ! " 
 
 " Misericorde, we are ruined, and Italy with us ! " 
 mutters another. " By you we are doomed, helpless, 
 to the noose or fusilade ! " 
 
 " Peste!" interjects the Podesta, whose face is very 
 serious. " Reproaches against a brave man who has 
 failed do not help our cause." 
 
 " Who will not fail ? " cries Da Messina. 
 
 " Bravo ! " cries the old Republican officer, who likes 
 the courage of conviction. Then he asks, grimly : 
 " What gives you so much confidence, my young man? 
 Do you think because they won't let you be a tenor, that 
 makes you a soldier ? " 
 
 " I have hope because the populace, without arms in 
 their hands, were ready to fly at their tyrants seven days 
 ago," replies Carlo, not noticing the jibe. " You know 
 what difficulty we had to keep them from charging on 
 Radetzky's palace. In addition, we have this chance 
 Bolza is now sure we will not rise till after the 2Oth! 
 We strike on the i6th ! " 
 
 " Strike without arms ! " gasps one. 
 
 " Yes ; strike before we are arrested and slain ! " cries
 
 28O ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Luciano. " Give us your plan, Carlo my boy, though 
 it be as desperate as the horse of Troy ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " answers Da Messina, excitedly. " Better be 
 stricken down fighting than die by executioner, like so 
 many who have raised up their voices for liberty with- 
 out raising up their arms ! Let us, with naked hands 
 if need be, fly at our oppressors' throats; and if we 
 must fall, fall fighting ! " 
 
 " Diavolo, it will be with naked hands ! " replies Ca- 
 sati. " We have, as you know, but seven hundred fow- 
 ling-pieces, and what old, medieval weapons we can take 
 from the museums of the Moldi and Poldi-Possoli Pa- 
 lazzos, besides some hundred logs of wood bound with 
 steel and made into guns for barricades." 
 
 " Barricades ! That's the thing ! " growls the old 
 French officer. " Without them, to rise were mad- 
 ness ! In any other town than this Milano, I should 
 say : Fly, sauve qui pent ! But here, in these narrow, 
 crooked streets, that make angles every fifty paces, we 
 have a fighting chance. As the Austrians force their 
 way around one corner, they must meet a barricade at 
 the next. And that being defended to the utmost, when 
 that is carried, at the next angle in the street they must 
 meet another barrier! From the housetops, even our 
 women can throw down stones upon them, and boiling 
 water; while in the streets we men, with the weapons 
 that God permits us, grapple at close quarters with Ra- 
 detzky's Croats! For this will be no battle of long- 
 range artillery, but a hand-to-hand, medieval combat, 
 where brave hearts often win against arms of precision. 
 I have here," says the old military chieftain, " a plan 
 of the city, showing where each barricade must be 
 erected." 
 
 With this, to the wonder of every other conspirator 
 save himself, he digs up a flag in the ancient, stone 
 floor, and pulls out a dusty military drawing. " Ex- 
 pecting this affair," he chuckles, " it took me two years 
 to make this bonne bouche for Radetzky. Here are 
 flans for fifteen hundred barricades."
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 28 1 
 
 "So many?" 
 
 " It is because there are so many that we may win. 
 To be precise, I have noted on this map fifteen hundred 
 and twenty-three,* with directions where to find con- 
 venient material for each one. Tear down your pal- 
 aces, take out the furniture, heirlooms of centuries, my 
 Milanese nobles ! " he laughs. " Rip the benches out 
 of La Scala, my tenor; give up, tradespeople, your 
 shelves and counters to Milano ; and in our despair we 
 may win! Diable! We can't have our omelet unless 
 we break some eggs ! " 
 
 " By Heaven, you are right ! " cries Luciano. " We 
 will win ! We will strike three days before they ex- 
 pect!" 
 
 " But who will ask the people to do this desperate 
 thing ? " demands, in choking voice, Casati, a man of 
 that circumspection which comes to greater age, after 
 hasty consultation with Cattaneo and a few of the longer 
 heads. " For by the Virgin I can't propose such a 
 cruel, hopeless thing to our poor townsmen ! My God, 
 to go unarmed against disciplined troops, led by the 
 ablest officer wearing Austrian uniform ! " 
 
 " Who of you is rash enough to ask the Milanese? " 
 remarks Cattaneo. " For this demand will have to be 
 made publicly ; and, if they do not rise, the man who 
 openly suggests rebellion is surely dead by Austrian 
 court-martial within two hours ! " 
 
 " I will do it ! " cries Da Messina. " I will make 
 sacrifice for any lack of vigilance that gave the secret of 
 the people to our enemies. To-morrow night there is a 
 performance at La Scala, from which I was hissed as 
 a traitor on Sunday. On Thursday night that traitor 
 will say to Milano : ' Rise ! Follow me ! ' " 
 
 " Then if they do," replies Casati, determinedly, 
 though his face is very grave, " we will cast our lot 
 with them and die with our people ! " 
 
 * Fifteen hundred and twenty-three were the exact number of barricades 
 erected during the five days of the most awful street fighting the world nas 
 probably ever seen. From the account of the affair by Contessa- -E. M, 
 Ctiartsco. ED,
 
 282 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 Whereupon the matter is hastily arranged. The plan 
 of barricades mapped out by the old Republican officer 
 is cut into pieces, and each piece given to the leader of 
 the section of the city to which it applies. Arrange- 
 ments are made by the Committee to back up, with all 
 the force they command, the populace, if, persuaded by 
 Da Messina, they rise against their military tyrants. 
 
 So, all arrangements being completed, they separate. 
 No leader of them a coward for himself, but simply fear- 
 ing what may come upon his friends; and there are 
 tears in the Podesta's eyes, as, wringing Carlo's hand, 
 he mutters : " God bless and save you, my boy ; but the 
 Virgin help us all ! Naked hands against musketry, 
 bayonets, and artillery ! God pity my poor people ! " 
 
 But the younger members are more confident. Ce- 
 saresco says : " I go to-night, if I can pass the Austrian 
 sentries, to bring my Brescian peasants to Milan. I 
 will stir the country up. In but a few days the moun- 
 tains will come to aid the plains ! " 
 
 As Da Messina goes away, Manara joins him, and 
 whispers, hurriedly : " I will be with you to help you 
 on to-morrow night. We must make this a kind of 
 Sicilian Vespers for the Austrians." 
 
 " Yes ; but don't walk with me in the street," replies 
 Carlo. " Remember that I am marked by Bolza's po- 
 lice. Don't let a doomed man bring danger upon who 
 yet is safe." 
 
 " Diavolo ! I shall get into the same boat with you 
 to-morrow night ! " remarks Luciano, as, wringing his 
 friend's hand, he goes away. 
 
 As for the doomed one, the plunge being taken, he 
 shakes himself like a water-dog throwing off the spray, 
 and strides to the Via Oriani, to get such comfort as 
 can come to a man, who, on the morrow, is to be his 
 own executioner, from the tearful kisses of a despairing 
 sweetheart, and three big, black, strong, unpatriotic 
 cigars.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE HANDS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 At two o'clock the next day, Carlo da Messina conies 
 into his betrothed's parlor, his face unnaturally pale, his 
 eyes unnaturally bright; and, once or twice looking 
 upon the beauty of his love, the moving of his full mus- 
 tache shows that beneath it a lip is twitching. 
 
 To him, very tenderly, she says : " I I thought you 
 would come, my own, to say good-by once more to 
 me!" 
 
 " You you guess ? " he whispers, the veins expand- 
 ing in his hand that clasps her delicate wrist. 
 
 " Only this that some time before the bells sound 
 
 midnight, that O God, Carlo, you believe that 
 
 you will be no more ! " Her voice is scarce audible ; 
 tears are streaming down her cheeks, washing away the 
 traces of those shed before he came ; her soft arms are 
 clinging to him, as she pants : " Misericorde, what shall 
 I do without you? " 
 
 " This is what I feared," he answers ; then begs, in 
 tortured voice : " Please do not unman me! Let me at 
 least play out my role ! " 
 
 " Then let me play it out beside you ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! " 
 
 " What are you going to do to-night ? " she begs. " I 
 will know ! Shall I go shrieking through the streets in 
 my despair like a mad woman at some vague, indefinite 
 horror ? Tell me, so I can meet it more bravely ! " 
 
 " Then, at La Scala, the man who was hissed as 
 traitor from its stage on Sunday, to-night cries out to 
 Milan, though unarmed, to rise ! Be assured, I will let 
 the poor devils know what desperate odds are against 
 them ; and if they hold back but two minutes, you can 
 bury me, if Bolza will give you my body. I would not 
 have told you, but you have demanded it, my betrothed. 
 Pray for me that's all you can do." 
 
 " No. I will " there is a gasp in her voice, but she
 
 284 ADTUENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 goes on, determinedly " I will see you do it, Carlo! " 
 
 At this, turning to her, he mutters desperately : . " I 
 forbid you ! " 
 
 " Why ? I I can buy a seat ! " 
 
 " You shall not ! Don't think of enduring the dan- 
 ger that may come upon you in a melee in that theater ! 
 The better chance I have for life, the less will be your 
 safety ; for it will begin by a combat within the Scala's 
 very walls ! " 
 
 " Pish ! There will be no Austrian soldiers there? " 
 
 " But there will ! " 
 
 "My Heaven!" 
 
 " For I have heard from the manager some very omi- 
 nous news. Zerconi tells me that, owing to the dis- 
 turbance Sunday evening, a detail of infantry will 
 be stationed in the building ; that sentries will stand at 
 the proscenium arch. 'Tis something the head of po- 
 lice has never done before ! " 
 
 " God help us ! They must suspect you! " 
 
 " No. If they did, I should be standing in front of 
 a firing party ere now. It is some additional precau- 
 tion of Bolza, who, like most tyrants, is a coward un- 
 derneath his skin. But," remarks Pergolese, his face, 
 in its misery, lighting up a little, " I think this very 
 thing will help me more than all else. This enormity of 
 outrage, that even in their amusements the Milanese 
 must feel their tyrant's heel, will make every Italian in 
 that audience as desperate as I. But you must not 
 go!" 
 
 " Do you suppose I will let them kill you, and not 
 be there to die with you ? " 
 
 " That is what I feared. Madre di Dio, the sight of 
 your dear face will unman me ! You shall not go ! " 
 
 " I am determined ! " Her eyes, in their despair, an- 
 swer him, defiantly. 
 
 " Diavolo! You forget, if I am your lover, I am 
 also your padrone ! " 
 
 To this she murmurs, reproach in her streaming eyes :
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 285 
 
 " You, my Carlo, answer me as padrone, whea for love 
 of thee I cry : ' Let me die with you ! ' ' 
 
 But he pleads : " For God's sake, do not force me to 
 make you remember me, not as your lover, but as your 
 tyrant ! Give me your promise because thy betrothed 
 asks it, as the last sacrifice you can make for him! 
 Don't refuse me perhaps the only boon you can now 
 give me in this life ! " 
 
 At this she raises her head, and her face grows white 
 as death, though a damp of agony is upon it. She 
 whispers, her bell-like voice becoming hoarse : " Carlo, 
 I obey you ! " and receives from him a muttered farewell 
 and a kiss hot as fire from lips cold as death. 
 
 Then, with a wrench, he is gone ; and she, running to 
 the window, looks after his stalwart figure, as he walks 
 up the street, until he disappears behind the buildings ; 
 next moans : " I am bereft ! " and, throwing herself 
 down upon her bed, tosses frantically about, till the 
 pillows, sheets, and blankets are all upon the floor. Yet 
 as the hours go by she can not endure it. She cries 
 to herself : " Promise or no promise, I see what, to- 
 night, comes to my heart within that great theater! 
 Last time it was assaulted cruelly ; this time, perhaps, 
 I will have better luck. Perhaps God will let him live ! 
 Perhaps " 
 
 Getting Josepha to her, she says : " Go out and buy 
 a box at La Scala for to-night not one of the upper 
 ones, if you can avoid it; one in the second tier, close 
 to the stage, if possible." 
 
 Coming back from this errand, Josepha remarks : 
 " Yes, I got the box belonging to the Moldi family. 
 For some reason, none of the ladies will be there. The 
 Baron himself said that he would sit in the pit to- 
 night. He is a great friend of that young Manara." 
 
 " Who is a comrade of Pergolese ! " cries Estelle, 
 a little hope springing up in her. " Will you go with 
 me, dear Josepha?" 
 
 " I can't. We've got some girls in the ballet, and I
 
 286 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 have to go with them; but I think Madre Vicenza 
 would like it well enough." 
 
 So Paola, coming down, says : " My little princessa, 
 I'll go with you, if you want it. I can con?e without 
 trouble. I shall put Eugenia to bed, and lo^V her up. 
 Carlo, like a good boy, has given me her indentures. 
 She's all mine now, and says she begins to love me as 
 her mother." 
 
 So it comes to pass, this evening, that, just as the 
 house is opened, a shrinking figure, in a plain, dark 
 dress, and wrapped up modestly, is followed by a tall, 
 gaunt woman up one of the great stairways of La 
 Scala, and hides herself behind the curtains of a sec- 
 ond-tier box, so near the stage that, on the opposite 
 side, she can look behind the scenes. 
 
 Here she sits gazing out upon the empty benches of 
 the great pit, which seems slowly filling up ; for Paola, 
 who sits, chatting, behind her ear, tells her the cast of 
 the opera " I Lombardi " is a very unimportant one. 
 " Cospetto, there's not a singer in the whole bill," she 
 sneers, looking at the programme. 
 
 Then the curtain goes up; and seeing the Austrian 
 sentries, three of them at either side of the proscenium 
 arch, under a sergeant and a corporal, the old Italian 
 woman's eyes blaze like fire. She snarls : " That's the 
 reason no one is here ! These white-coats on the stage ! 
 Such outrage was never in Milan before! Corpo di 
 Diaz'olo! " And, with the awful oath floating out from 
 her old lips, gazes at the Austrian soldiers as if she'd like 
 herself to slay them. Then a little hope comes up in 
 the fluttering heart of Da Messina's sweetheart. Others 
 in the audience seem, by their excited gestures, to look 
 upon these Croats who, in armed menace, are in plain 
 sight just behind the scenes with about the same vin- 
 dictiveness as Paola. 
 
 " Carlo will have friends here," thinks the girl. Then, 
 gazing at the long, shining muskets and gleaming bay- 
 enets carried by the soldiers, she guesses they will soon
 
 AbRlENNE DE PORfALlS. 287 
 
 be directed at the heart she loves, and feels so sick and 
 faint she nearly slips from her chair. 
 
 The performance is a blank to her ; she scarce knows 
 what the orchestra is playing ; even the audience seems 
 a blur to her eyes. 
 
 But shortly after the second act begins, the emc'y 
 benches commence to fill. 
 
 " Ola! Our prudent Milanese are buying tickets at 
 reduced prices ! " scoffs Vicenza. " But how few wom- 
 en ! By San Marco, I can't see over a dozen silver 
 combs and gay-colored headdresses in the house ! " 
 
 Curiously, also, most of these coming in now are 
 men whose faces indicate there is some different busi- 
 ness in them than amusement. 
 
 " Per Baccho ! " whispers Paola, her eyes astounded. 
 " Those are brigands coming into the pit ! They look 
 more ferocious than the Saracens upon the stage. I've 
 noticed twenty times a stiletto beneath a sash ; and that 
 devil right below us wears such savage pistols under 
 his jacket. Santa Maria, half the audience are armed ! " 
 
 These words bring eager hope, mingled with hide- 
 ous anxiety, to Estelle; she begins to guess the end 
 is coming! She looks upon the stage, and sees a 
 strange melange of Pagans, Crusaders, and Lombar- 
 dian peasants ; for this opera, " I Lombardi," has as 
 improbable a plot as ever graced Italian opera, which is 
 saying a great deal. The first act is in Milano; the 
 second is in the harem of a Saracen prince ; after that, 
 toward the end of the third act, is the grand chorus of 
 Crusaders, Pilgrims, and ladies in the Lombardian en- 
 campment before Jerusalem. This scene is now be- 
 fore Estelle, and to her floats music, grand, inspiring, 
 virile, from the pen of Verdi, who, in his youth, wrote 
 the passionate melodies by which he will be remem- 
 bered. 
 
 These exalted strains seem to get into the warm blood 
 of the Italian audience and also into Estelle's beating 
 heart. " If my hero dies," she thinks, " he dies with
 
 288 ADRIiNNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 the music in his ears that he has sung, that he has 
 loved!" 
 
 But all the time her eyes gaze about for the being 
 that she loves, in this vast audience for the theater 
 now is packed from pit to dome by a black, seething 
 mass of men. 
 
 As she looks about the stage for Pergolese, she no- 
 tices that the Austrian sentries, as they stand at ease 
 on either side of the proscenium arch, are now, appar- 
 ently, greatly favored by the attentions of some chorus 
 girls. 
 
 " Diavolo! Look at the brazen, unpatriotic wenches 
 making amorous love to their enemies ! " growls Paola. 
 " If one of my girls is among them, she'll have a beat- 
 ing from me before this night is over! Santa Maria! 
 The wantons are ugly as their actions ! See the knock- 
 kneed peasant girl making love to that accursed ser- 
 geant ! Basta, that Moslem odalisque has the legs of a 
 wrestler ! Corpo di Gennaro ! The immodest strumpet 
 has let the corporal kiss her, and is laughing at him ! 
 But hark, my little one listen to our song of liberty ! " 
 
 For, at this moment, that grand chorus of the opera, 
 " O Signore, dal tetto natio ! " rises grandly on the air ; 
 and one of the chorus, garbed as a pilgrim and cloaked 
 to the eyes, sings so wondrously, so gloriously, that as 
 his tenor voice rings out with exquisite timbre and 
 potent passion over both audience and orchestra, some 
 of the Crusaders stop singing, and gaze upon him. 
 
 " Diavolo ! " cries a man in the gallery. " They've 
 got the star in the chorus ! " 
 
 But the audience now joins in this their song of lib- 
 erty, and as it closes, instead of applause, silence is on 
 the house, broken only by the subdued twanging of a 
 violin-string, which, having been broken, is being has- 
 tily repaired, and brought to pitch by a fiddler in the 
 orchestra ; for, striding to the front of the stage, comes 
 the pilgrim of the wonderful voice ! He throws off 
 his cloak, and reveals an athletic palmer of the Middle
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 289 
 
 Ages, armed, like a brigand, with a long butcher-knife 
 and two big blunderbusses stuck in his belt. 
 
 Here, recognizing him, a few commence to hiss 
 " Traditore ! " but these are quickly hushed by the 
 strong hands of men sitting beside them. The cry 
 goes up : " Listen to Pergolese ! He doesn't play 
 pilgrim in the chorus to earn his salary, but to speak to 
 us!" 
 
 With this, his voice for a moment quite low, but so 
 distinct that every word finds every ear, Da Messina 
 utters a very curious exhortation to mutiny and revolt. 
 
 " MILANESE, FELLOW-SLAVES : I am here to tell you 
 that the arms with which we were to strike our tyrants 
 down will never come to us ! " 
 
 The answer is a sad, despairing murmur, and Paola 
 groans : " This tenor is a maniac, like all the others ! " 
 And a boy in the gallery screams : " Fool, Pergolese, to 
 get yourself shot for telling us bad news ! " 
 
 But now the orator's voice, clear as a bell, comes ring- 
 ing up in patriot enthusiasm : " Knowing this, our 
 tyrants are neglectful. But one company of infantry 
 is at the office of police, and one on guard at Radetzky's 
 palace. All others are at the outside barracks, near 
 the walls, or at the Castello. Now is our time ! Fel- 
 low-slaves, if you would be slaves no more, up with 
 me, and strike the Austrians this very night ! Here is 
 the symbol of our freedom ! " and throwing to the air 
 the flag of Italy, her lover's face becomes so impas- 
 sioned, so inspired, that Estelle thinks Da Messina a 
 god! 
 
 But now two Austrian police agents are coming down 
 the aisle, calling to the sergeant, who has looked on 
 scarce believing such effrontery to be real : " Shoot 
 down that traitor ! " 
 
 God of Despair ! The sergeant is giving some hoarse 
 orders, and the long muskets of the white-coated Croats 
 are being leveled at the man she loves ; and from Es- 
 telle's pale lips arises a scream that might awake the 
 dead : " Quick, Carlo, QUICK ! "
 
 290 AfciUENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 And, as if he heard her, the pilgrim, who has already 
 a blunderbuss in his hand, shoots the Austrian sergeant 
 down. Then suddenly the amorous chorus girls, draw- 
 ing concealed stilettos from their manly bosoms, spring 
 upon the Croats, doing them to death ; and the man who 
 plays the drum in the orchestra, drawing a pistol, 
 shoots down one Austrian police agent, and Luciano 
 Manara, springing from his seat, fells the other with a 
 walking-cane. After a quick medley, six white-coated 
 soldiers, with their corporal and sergeant, lie dead and 
 bloody upon the stage of the great opera house, and 
 beside them the odalisque of stalwart legs, with half a 
 dozen Austrian bayonets stuck through his patriot 
 heart. 
 
 " Evoe, those chorus girls were brave Italian men, 
 who have slain those Austrian dogs ! " screams Paola. 
 " This is a riot ! This is a rebellion ! " then shrieks : 
 " Bravissimo, it is a revolution ! " 
 
 The women on the stage have flown from it, leaving 
 only the men, who seize up eagerly the weapons and 
 cartridge-boxes of the dead soldiers; half the musi- 
 cians have disappeared; the others, including the pa- 
 triot-drummer, draw knives and flourish pistols. These, 
 headed by Pergolese, spring over the orchestra into the 
 pit, and go streaming up the aisles as he cries : " Fol- 
 low me ! " 
 
 So, bearing the Italian flag, with Manara upon one 
 hand, and Casati, the Podesta, on the other ; and some 
 shouting, " Quick the police office ! " and others cry- 
 ing, " The palace of the Governor ! " they dash from 
 the theater. After them rushes out the whole audience 
 of La Scala, leaving but two women in the vast edifice 
 one a fainting girl, the other a gaunt, old dancing 
 mistress striving to revive her. 
 
 " Wake up ! " begs Paola. " For the Virgin, Estelle, 
 wake up, my sweet lamb! Dio mio! They will put 
 out the lights on us ! " then suddenly cries : " What are 
 these fools doing? Cospetto! They are prying up 
 all the benches ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 29 1 
 
 For a hundred men are now ripping the seats out of 
 pit and gallery, and taking them into the street to make, 
 with some court carriages they find in a neighboring 
 stable, a hasty barricade across the Via Santa Marghe- 
 rita. From this direction now comes the awful sound 
 of two quick, rattling volleys of musketry. 
 
 Then as Estelle, recovering her senses, shudders, 
 " What noise is that ? " the wounded men being brought 
 in from the outside, bloody and disfigured, tell her that 
 the combat has begun. 
 
 " Don't grieve so, little one ! " says Paola ; for Estelle 
 is crying : " Carlo, mio Carlo ! " 
 
 " Corpo di Baccho, thy hero is as safe as any ! Every- 
 one who calls himself an Italian and a man in Milano 
 has risen with him! For, peal on peal, ever), church 
 bell in the city is now sounding the tocsin of revolt ! " 
 Then she suddenly asks : " Have you gone mad, my 
 darling? " for Estelle has picked up the velvet cushions 
 of their box and tossed them on to the now empty 
 floor of the pit. 
 
 " No," answers the girl, her eyes aflame. " They 
 are for the wounded to lie upon. Oh, niisericorde ! 
 They are bringing them in now ! Come with me ! We 
 can not fight, but we can nurse my Carlo's wounded 
 heroes ! " 
 
 As they run down to aid the suffering, a wild cry 
 comes from the outside, mingled with volleys of mus- 
 ketry ; and, a moment after, a man, running in, says : 
 " They have swept the company on guard away front 
 the office of the police ! " and another shrieks, excitedly : 
 " Bolza has fled ! " 
 
 With this begins the woman's part in battle. The 
 maimed and wounded are being rapidly brought in from 
 the street. The grand theater becomes an immense 
 hospital. With them comes in Theresa Confanieri, and 
 other angels of that awful time, bringing bandages, med- 
 icine, and lint from Riva's neighboring drugstore. The 
 cushions of luxury, torn out of the boxes, become the 
 beds of the suffering. Among these angels is Estelle,
 
 292 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 trying to minister with her fair hands to the wounded 
 patriots as they are brought in, groaning. 
 
 As she is working, a man suddenly comes in, and 
 cries : " We have captured the Governor's palace, and 
 surprised Radetzky ! He has fled to the Castello ! " 
 
 Some hours after, the morning light just coming in 
 through the windows of La Scala, as Estelle is bandag- 
 ing a half-delirious silkweaver, who has lost a hand, a 
 man steps to her, and whispers : " Darling, God bless 
 you for your noble heart ! " 
 
 " Carlo safe ! " she cries. But yesterday she would 
 have swooned in his arms ; now she whispers : " One 
 moment, love, until I have finished bandaging this 
 hurt." 
 
 And he standing by, grimed with the smoke of com- 
 bat, gazes tenderly upon her ministry, and, after the 
 wounded man is succored, publicly takes her in his 
 arms, kisses her devoutly, as if she were a saint, and 
 introduces her to the Contessa Cesaresco, and other 
 ladies who chance to see the salute, saying, proudly : 
 " This dear one is to be my bride as soon as Milan 
 has within its walls no Austrian ! " 
 
 Then oh, how happy she is, even with the noise of 
 distant battle in her ears ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE TOSA GATE. 
 
 As Estelle and her lover go off to breakfast at the 
 nearby Rebecchino, this seems already the case ; no 
 Austrians are seen in the streets ; only men working, 
 as if for their lives, throwing up barricades. As these 
 doff their caps to him, even in the hurry of military 
 travail, Pergolese says, proudly : " Behold, my towns- 
 men love me once more ! " 
 
 "Santa Maria! They worship you and so do I, 
 my hero ! " laughs the gaunt Paola, who stalks beside
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 them ; and, taking Carlo in her strong arms, lifts him 
 up, and kisses him on both cheeks; then chuckles: 
 " Don't be jealous, my betrothed one, at old Madre 
 Vicenza giving her boy a patriot buss. Prettier women 
 than I wanted to salute Pergolese at La Scala." 
 
 But Estelle cries : " Look, they are all smoking now ! 
 See, Carlo, every one has pipe, cigar, or cigarette ! " 
 
 " Yes ; we, last night, captured the government to- 
 bacco manufactory," replies Da Messina, who is indulg- 
 ing in an enormous cigar. 
 
 At the Rebecchino it is the same; every patriot has 
 a halo of fumes about his head. Old Colonel Labat, 
 made more suave by nicotine, remarks, between puffs 
 of a big Bouquet Elegancia : " You did that very well 
 last night, my tenor ; but should have kept one eye 
 upon that Austrian sergeant. Diable, it was a woman's 
 shriek warned you, I think ! " 
 
 At this, Estelle's face grows bright as the rising sun ; 
 then her eyes become troubled as the Republican officer 
 goes on : " Some fools think this is the end of the 
 affair ; but I tell you it has not yet begun ! Cry out 
 to every one: 'Barricades! Barricades! BARRI- 
 CADES ! " 
 
 As he turns away, young Manara, tapping Pergolese 
 on the shoulder, and blowing a couple of rings from his 
 lips, says, almost hysterically : " Our first sweets of 
 liberty ! " then whispers : " You and I are assigned to 
 look after the Tosa Gate. Meet me at that quarter as 
 soon as you can." 
 
 So, after a very hasty meal, Da Messina leads his 
 sweetheart and the gaunt, old dancing mistress back to 
 the Via Oriani. Here more barricades are going up, 
 and, seeing two or three pianos among them, Estelle 
 whispers to her lover : " Carlo, can I sacrifice mine ? I 
 want to do a little ; " and for the suggestion gets an- 
 other kiss. 
 
 "Santa Maria!" cries the old woman. "Everything 
 that is heavy enough in my house goes into them ! " then 
 suddenly mutters : " Diavolo, my doorkeeper is work-
 
 294 ADRIENNE DE PORTALTS. 
 
 ing on those barricades ! I rrrast look after my caged 
 dancing-bird ! " and runs hastily up-stairs, where she 
 finds Josepha and the girls, who had been at La Scala, 
 safe ; likewise Eugenia. 
 
 But la contessa, being unable to restrain some tears 
 of despair when she learns that Bolza has fled, her mis- 
 tress comes running back again to Pergolese and his 
 sweetheart, and chuckles : " Eh via ! I have discov- 
 ered why that minx up there dare not tell me the name 
 of the man she gallanted with at the Cova ! Cospetto, 
 he must have been some fellow on the Austrian po- 
 lice!" 
 
 At this Carlo has a grim smile, and Estelle can't help 
 laughing, as Paola cries : " Santa Maria, I'll see that 
 the friponne doesn't run away after Bolza's man ! " 
 
 Whereupon, conducting her apprentice, whose eyes 
 are now despairing, to the little chamber that adjoins 
 her room, Vicenza commands : " Undress and go to 
 bed, my child. You won't skip into the street with 
 only a shift upon your pretty shoulders. Don the little 
 chimese that one cut tres decollete, my sweet." And 
 Eugenia, not daring to disobey, Paola takes all her 
 clothes from her, remarking, grimly : " Now I can go 
 with easy mind to kill your Austrian friends." 
 
 So, the doors of both rooms being carefully locked 
 upon her, la contessa spends five awful days in bed, 
 listening to the roar of artillery, and the volleys of mus- 
 ketry, and the sounds of combat, as it ebbs and flows 
 through the streets of the city ; at one moment cursing 
 Bolza, who has left her to her fate ; at the next shud- 
 dering: " If she discovers, that awful patriot Vicenza 
 will cut my throat ! " 
 
 But Paola is now occupied in slaying other enemies; 
 from a neighboring housetop, assisted by her girls, she 
 is showering anathemas, brickbats, and boiling water 
 upon the Austrians as they attack the little barricade 
 that closes the Via Oriani. But this is merely a pre- 
 liminary scuffle. 
 
 Early in the evening of the next day, the i8th of
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 295 
 
 March, after demanding the surrender of the city, Ra- 
 detzky makes his first attack in force. 
 
 An almost straight street runs direct from the Cas- 
 tello to within some fifty yards of the Town Hall of 
 Milan. In this straight street, his movements masked 
 by an awful storm, Radetzky makes his assault; the 
 lightnings and thunders of the heavens dimming that 
 of the Austrian artillery, before which the patriot bar- 
 ricades go down like paper; the ruins of these, being 
 strongly assailed by a column of disciplined troops, are 
 carried at the point of the bayonet ; and so, getting lodg- 
 ment near the Broletto, Radetzky finally captures the 
 Town Hall, with three hundred prisoners, and sends a 
 courier to his Emperor that he has Milano once more 
 in his grasp. 
 
 But the next day, Sunday, having massed all his 
 troops at the various gates of the town, every one of 
 which he holds, the Austrian Marshal directs a general 
 assault upon the rebellious city, intending, by his col- 
 umns fighting their way from every gate and all con- 
 verging upon the Plaza il Duomo, to squeeze the 
 patriots within a grasp of steel. 
 
 For this purpose he has some eighteen thousand 
 veterans, less some six hundred lost on the night ot 
 the riot, and in the assaults on the Broletto. Fighting 
 against a populace that are only armed with some few 
 muskets obtained when the police station and Radetz- 
 ky's palace were captured, and the archaic weapons 
 taken from the palaces of the nobility, Radetzky would 
 surely win, were it not for the barricades. 
 
 These have sprung up innumerable, as if by magic, 
 in every narrow, crooked street. In them are mixed 
 the heirloom furniture of the nobility, priceless antiques 
 of medieval art, together with the unplaced masonry 
 of the Adda palace, the counters of the shopkeepers, 
 and the paving-stones of the streets ; for the very foun- 
 dations of this hapless city are now uprooted to save it. 
 All these are defended with that desperation which
 
 296 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 makes men who say " We will be slaves no more ! " so 
 formidable, so invincible. 
 
 So the awful fight goes on, Radetzky holding the 
 walls and all the gates ; but driven back each time he 
 tries to force his way over barricades that seem to his 
 soldiers innumerable. If one is captured, the next is 
 held, and then the next, until even the savage Croats 
 give back from boiling oil poured on their heads from 
 housetops by women and boys ; while in the street be- 
 low fight the hoi-polloi of Milan side by side with 
 young nobles in their velvet coats, women jostling 
 men for the honor of killing an Austrian. 
 
 At night the red glow of burning buildirgs lights up 
 these horrors; while over all rises the clang of bells in 
 every campanile, signaling where the danger is most 
 imminent. 
 
 All this time Estelle works like an angel over the 
 ever-increasing wounded in La Scala theater ; and now 
 this is so crowded that the churches are put to the same 
 use. Each day, as the intervals of the combat permit, 
 her lover comes to her, and each time she gives a cry 
 of joy. He is to her as if returned from the dead. 
 Each time he warns her not to leave the hospitals ; for 
 she has cried to him : " Let me go with you, my Carlo ! 
 I would be happier looking at you fight than thinking 
 what may come to you unknown to me." 
 
 To this he sternly says : " You must not ! " and tells 
 her of such horrors in the suburbs, where women have 
 been captured by the Croats, who have changed, under 
 defeat, from medieval soldiers to ferocious savages, that 
 she obays him, and keeps from the actual scene of 
 combat. 
 
 So, the time rolls on ; the city kept from all commu- 
 nication with the outside world, save by toy balloons 
 that they send up, with messages attached, saying: 
 " Get us just one porta, and we are free ! " For all Lom- 
 bardy is now on fire ; but the city starves, every inch of 
 its walls and all its gates held by the Austrians. 
 
 So Estelle labors and starves with other women until
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTAL'iS. 297 
 
 the fifth day, in the morning, when Da Messina's man- 
 ner makes her anxious. At noon he comes not, and 
 his sweetheart's eyes are anguished, as she chances to 
 see young Luciano Manara talking very earnestly to 
 the Podesta on the Via Santa Margherita. This youth, 
 once the gayest dandy in Milan, at present is in sorry 
 plight; his velvet coat is rags; half his mustache is 
 burnt off by powder; his once immaculate boots are 
 cut to pieces and soaked with the blood of conflict. His 
 face has that on it which makes Estelle stride up to him, 
 after Casati has turned away, and whisper, with white 
 lips : " Carlo da Messina, your comrade and my affi- 
 anced, commands with you at the Tosa Gate ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Signorina ! " answers the young man, 
 bowing with his old-time courtly grace. 
 
 " Carlo is dead ! " she whispers, for something in his 
 manner dismays her. 
 
 " No." 
 
 "But you fear for him?" 
 
 " I fear for every patriot. Each one is my brother," 
 remarks Luciano ; then, for the girl is walking on with 
 him, he says, warningly : " The streets are filled with 
 horrors near the Tosa Gate. The air is full of bullets. 
 I beg you keep away from it." But she still keeping by 
 his side, he pauses, and begs, very earnestly : " Please 
 do not come ! In fact, as leader there, I command you 
 not to ! " 
 
 " You make a military order ; you have some mili- 
 tary reason." 
 
 " Yes. In an hour we assault the Gate. It will be 
 too awful an affair for any woman to look upon ! " 
 
 " My my Carlo ! " she gasps. " He he " 
 
 " He will lead with me, and take his chance like any 
 other brave man, my dear young lady! Pray for us 
 all some of us will stand before God this day ! But 
 you must excuse me ; I only left our men to receive the 
 last orders of the Podesta." And raising gallantly a 
 hat with an Austrian bullethole through it, and half
 
 298 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 its brim cut off by an Imperial sword, Luciano hurries 
 toward the Tosa Porta. 
 
 " Carlo leads the assault ! " mutters Estelle, a frenzy 
 of dread within her. " That's the reason he came not 
 at noon. O God, I shall not see him before he dies ! " 
 Then, half frantic with her fears, she runs after Ma- 
 nara, keeping well behind him lest he may turn her 
 back ; and so after a little approaching the place of hor- 
 ror, begins to find dead bodies in her path, one of a 
 lady whose hands have been cut off to gain her rings 
 by barbarous Croats ; for this street has been taken and 
 retaken many times. 
 
 Now she is almost in the combat. A pastry-cook, 
 still wearing his white cap, but armed with musket, 
 falls, shot, almost beside her. They are carrying two 
 or three groaning wounded into the doorway opposite. 
 Then from house to house she glides, and crouches 
 down in the shelter of a wall, almost destroyed by Aus- 
 trian cannon, to look out on the combat of the Tosa 
 Gate. 
 
 This is the weakest of all the Austrian portals; but 
 it has some open ground between it and the houses. 
 This space has been gained and occupied by the Italians. 
 
 Just here a strong hand taps her on the shoulder. 
 Looking up, she sees old Labat, decked in a Repub- 
 lican uniform of Napoleon's Army of Italy. " Sac a 
 papier! " he snarls. " What in the devil's name, girl, 
 brings you here ? " 
 
 " I am Da Messina's betrothed " 
 
 " Yes, yes I know all that. Too gallant a chap for 
 a tenor." 
 
 " I I came to see him die." 
 
 " Tonne . . . Dicu! Thou art like to get thy wish! 
 Tired of him before the orange blossoms, eh ! " he 
 chuckles. " Well, thy lad's got as good a chance of 
 death as anyone better, I think ! " 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" 
 
 " Do you see those movable barricades my inven- 
 tion that slowly crawl nearer and nearer that Gate.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALTS. 
 
 which spouts out bullets at them? Among the men 
 behind it is the hero you have come to see die. Diable, 
 it is very close now ! They have got nearly up to 
 that outer bulwark! And look up the rampart they 
 have gained the wall there, and are making a flank 
 attack! Sacre bleu! They have given me the com- 
 mand of the reserves," he sobs, tears rolling down his 
 scarred cheeks, " because I'm seventy-seven, and they 
 say too old to lead an escalade! When those fellows 
 ahead of us make assault the forlorn hope it is 
 called," says the old disciplinarian, " and are all killed, 
 we, the second line, come up, and settle the broken 
 kaiserlicks! " 
 
 " All killed ! " cries the girl, and looks with those 
 tearless eyes that women have when hope has gone, 
 upon the dread scene before her; the Tosa Gate, 
 manned by the Imperial infantry, spouting death upon 
 those movable barricades of plank and beams torn out 
 of houses that, running upon rounded, wooden logs, 
 have now crawled very close to the Austrians. 
 
 " If they could use artillery upon us, we could never 
 get there ; but I laid the plan, little one ! " growls the 
 old Republican. " See, the boys have unmasked that 
 wooden cannon, and blown the old gates off their rusty, 
 hinges ! " Then he suddenly cries : " Diable! Fool, 
 no human being can get through that hell of bullets 
 and live ! Don't you see they are going to assault the 
 Gate now ! " 
 
 For Estelle, forgetting even the fear of death, is run- 
 ning toward the man she loves. If she says anything, 
 it is drowned in the crash of musketry that now flames 
 from the portals of the Tosa ! 
 
 Just then the hero she loves springs over the barri- 
 cade on the side of the Austrians, crying : " Milanese, 
 follow me ! " 
 
 And they do follow him ! In one of those indescrib- 
 able enthusiasms such as came when Napoleon sprang 
 before his grenadiers upon the Bridge of Lodi, these
 
 3<X> ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 half-mad patriots, with a wild yell, spring into the arms 
 of death and win ! 
 
 No disciplined military mind expected such a crazy 
 attack. Though half of them go down, the other half 
 gain the Tosa Gate. Here, seeing military opportunity, 
 Labat springs forward, waves his sword to the second 
 line, and shouts : " The Old Guard at Marengo ! " 
 
 With a howl of victory and rage, the artisans, silk- 
 weavers, and ironsmiths of Milan fly after this old 
 Republican, and beat back the white-coat re-enforce- 
 ments, meeting bayonets with knives, stilettos, and 
 hammers. Down goes the Imperial flag upon the 
 Porta Tosa! 
 
 But as they scream " Milan is free ! " an Austrian 
 officer, just outside the Gate, is bending over a wounded 
 patriot. To him is running Estelle, crying : " Franz ! 
 God bless you ; you have saved him ! " 
 
 But he doesn't answer her ; for at him are spring- 
 ing half a dozen Milanese with gleaming knives. 
 
 Then, as the Imperialist, getting his back to a wall, 
 with sword uplifted, prepares to sell his life at good 
 cost to his opponents, Manara, rushing in front of his 
 men, puts aside the weapons directed at the German's 
 heart, and cries : " I saw you beat up the bayonets 
 of half a dozen Croats who, as they fled, would have 
 stabbed Carlo to death ! No, not even surrender from 
 you, who stayed to save ! Only free conduct to the 
 Austrian lines ! " 
 
 " I fear it is but little use," mutters Radetzky ; and, 
 stooping down, he kisses, sadly, the white, upturned 
 face of the man lying before him on the rampart. 
 
 " Then give me my dead ! " moans Estelle, and sinks 
 down, bending over the body of Da Messina ; but sud- 
 denly hope flames in her eyes, she whispers : " There 
 is life in him yet ! My love shall make him live ! " 
 
 So, they bear the wounded man to the old house in 
 the Via Oriani, where Estelle, with that tenderness and 
 devoted care that only women can give, nurses her 
 wounded hero very slowly back to life.
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 3OI 
 
 Some four weeks after this, Lombardy being free of 
 Austrians, and all Milan rejoicing for Carlo Alberto's 
 Sardinian army of fifty thousand men having just 
 passed through the town Estelle, using the gold that 
 had been given to her by Da Messina, takes her conva- 
 lescent lover by easy stages up into the Swiss moun- 
 tains, where their summer breezes very slowly bring 
 health to a man who, as he lies by the shores of Lake 
 Lucerne, has the misery of hearing of the patriot cause 
 cast to the ground by foolish dissensions after victory is 
 gained. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF GARIBALDIANS. 
 
 About a year after this, in early summer, when the 
 snows have melted and the Alpine roses are blooming, 
 one evening in the little theater of Geneva is sung the 
 opera of " Somnambula," in which Estelle makes her 
 debut, singing the brilliant role of the peasant girl very 
 sweetly. The house is crowded, for to the name of the 
 debutante is added that of Pergolese the first time he 
 has sung outside of Italy. 
 
 After the performance, a gentleman, coming out, re- 
 marks : " That young lady who sang Anina is not so 
 bad ; but what support she had ! Didn't you notice 
 how the great Pergolese restrained his marvelous voice 
 in all the duo passages how he upheld her less brilliant 
 efforts at loss to his own success? That great artist 
 sacrificed himself for the beautiful woman with whom 
 he sang." 
 
 "Diable, he ought to ! " a Frenchman replies. "They 
 were married only a week ago in the little church up 
 there. Parbleu, if he drowned her sweet, little voice, 
 the pretty bride might pull Pergolese^ magnificent 
 mustache ! " 
 
 But this idea of sacrifice is not unknown to the prima
 
 302 ADRIEXNE DE PORTALlS. 
 
 donna; and in their apartments at the Hotel de 1'Ecu 
 she comes to her husband, who is sitting smoking, 
 and, taking with her fair fingers the cigar from his 
 lips, replaces it with a bride's kiss; then nestles upon 
 his knee, and says : " Do you remember the first time 
 I sat here, Carlo? 'Twas in Marseilles, the morning 
 after you gave me your love." 
 
 " Diavolo, times have changed since then ! " he sighs. 
 " Then I had an estate, a home, friends, and a country ; 
 now all are swept from me ! My comrades of our rev- 
 olution for we won fair enough ; but afterward, by 
 foolish dissensions, destroyed ourselves are fugitives 
 and have, like me, to earn their bread and butter in 
 foreign lands." 
 
 " And don't have as good chance as you of doing it, 
 my Carlo ! " says Estelle, encouragingly. " You know 
 you have offers of engagements in every great cap- 
 ital of Europe. Franz, with his bridal gift, wrote that 
 they even wanted you to sing in Vienna if you would 
 only take the oath of allegiance." 
 
 " Never ! " he replies, in such a padrone tone that 
 Estelle gives her ogre a kiss. 
 
 " Apropos," he remarks, with a little smile, " I have 
 been offered an engagement in Des Italiennes." 
 
 "Paris! Mon Dien!" the bride cries, excitedly; 
 then, after a moment's delight, her eyes fill with tears; 
 she sighs : " If you accept, we shall be separated ; " and 
 her arms close about him. 
 
 " I am not altogether sure of that." 
 
 " I dare not go," she falters. La Baronne de Por- 
 talis might get put in prison. But, if you demand, I 
 will take the risk, even of French justice, to be near 
 you, my adored ! " 
 
 " Cospetto, there is no risk ! " 
 
 " No risk ? Impossible ! " Then, seeing a peculiar 
 expression on her husband's face, the bride asks, eager- 
 ly : " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that Adrienne, La Baronne de Portalis, has 
 been tried for her crimes ! "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 303 
 
 " 'Mm "Bleu ! Tried ! How when they have never 
 caught me?" The pretty criminal is getting fright- 
 ened now. 
 
 " No. They have a curious way in France of some- 
 times trying fugitives from justice, without their pres- 
 ence, in contumacy." * 
 
 " I I have been convicted ! Have I been sentenced 
 to prison or to death ? " Carlo can feel the exquisite 
 form in his arms thrill and tremble. 
 
 " Neither ! But your ex-mother-in-law has been sen- 
 tenced to pay fifty thousand francs for defaming your 
 character. La Baronne de Portalis has been declared 
 innocent! I wrote to Cremieux some time ago, asking 
 him to get such trial if possible, and then to have you 
 represented by an able avocat. Louis Napoleon, now 
 President of the French Republic, is very favorable to 
 Italian refugees. Your case was tried ; your accusers 
 did not have a leg to stand on. You, my darling, are 
 now free, and rich ! I believe you have something like 
 fifteen hundred thousand francs. The estate was worth 
 fighting for, it seems." 
 
 " Oh, you have done this for me ! " and her arms 
 close upon him again. 
 
 " Why should I not ? Am I not still thy padrone, 
 and have to look after my bound-girl's interests ? You 
 see, you had no reason for your flight. This news came 
 to me to-day ; I didn't tell you before, fearing it might 
 agitate you on your debut you should never have run 
 away." 
 
 " Oh, fancy, if I had not, Carlo, what would life have 
 been to me ! " 
 
 " Or to me ! " he whispers, tears coming into his eyes. 
 " Thank God your fears made you a fugitive ! " 
 
 With wealth arises a new idea to the brain of the 
 
 * This, we believe, is a feature of continental jurisprudence and unknown 
 in Anglo-Saxon practice, but it is quite common in France. A certain 
 prominent American, who once was candidate for the office of President of 
 the United States, was tried for some railroad bond transaction in which he 
 had taken part in Paris, and sentenced en contumace to imprisonment 
 after he had left France. It.is needless to'sayjhe never returned to Paris. ED.
 
 304 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 bride ; she asks : " You have accepted the engage- 
 ment at Des Italiennes?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I would like, Carlo," she murmurs, very hesi- 
 tatingly, " with with the consent of tnio padrone " 
 she softens the word with a pretty kiss " to leave the 
 stage, and sing only for your ears." 
 
 " What makes you wish this ? " he asks, anxiety run- 
 ning over his features. 
 
 " My voice will never make -me very celebrated. 
 That awful night in La Scala, when 'I screamed to you 
 to save yourself from the Austrian sergeant, something 
 in my agony left me, some little straining of my throat, 
 perhaps in that shriek I gave; it it will never come 
 back to me, my Carlo." 
 
 " Good God, was it for love of me you lost that 
 perfect voice ? " he falters. 
 
 " Ah, that was nothing," she says, very sweetly. " I 
 would have given my life as well. But you have 
 noticed it? I thought so. To-night I wept in my 
 heart, as I said : ' In order to make me acceptable, Per- 
 golese is destroying himself.' I I had once hoped, 
 darling, that my voice might mingle with yours ; but 
 let me give you my applause from the boxes, and live, 
 not for the public, but for you." 
 
 " It shall be as you wish," answers il cavaliere. Tears 
 are in his eyes, for he has felt the supreme glories of tre- 
 mendous artistic success, and he knows what his sweet- 
 heart bride is missing. 
 
 Then he says to her : " To-morrow we take the dili- 
 gence for Lyons. I who led you forth a fugitive will 
 take you back, free and untrammeled, to thy native 
 land." 
 
 Some months later, at the close of his first ap- 
 pearance in Paris, after that capital had bowed down 
 to Pergolese's glorious voice and said, " Italy has sent 
 to us a second Rubini," he passes out, with Estelle upon 
 his arm, from his dressing-room, receiving on the stage 
 the congratulations of his fellow-artists. As he reaches
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 the stage entrance of Des Italienes, a strong arm taps 
 him on the shoulder, a frank, German voice says: 
 " Carlo, my boy, I got a month's leave, and came 
 to Paris to hear thy voice again." With this, the 
 crowd, who have gathered about the stage entrance to 
 see the great Italian tenor and patriot, wonder why this 
 exile from Milan takes to his heart a man in the glitter- 
 ing uniform of an Austrian major ; and why this beau- 
 tiful lady by his side cries'" Franz ! Dear old Franz ! " 
 and throws her arms about the warrior, and, kissing 
 him, murmurs : " Thank you for my husband's life ! " 
 
 " Carlo, mein bruder," remarks Radetzky, " thy voice 
 is more marvelous than ever ! " as the three drive to 
 Meurice's, where Da Messina has apartments. Here, 
 over a little supper for Pergolese has declined all other 
 invitations, though he has many the trio are together, 
 as on the Via Oriani. To Franz, Da Messina tells 
 the story of Adrienne de Portalis. 
 
 " Thy other bound-girl's fate, Pergolese, is perhaps 
 as wonderful as thy Estelle's," remarks the German, 
 laughingly. 
 
 " Eugenia ! " screams Adrienne, for, with her liberty 
 and estates, Estelle has taken back her Christian name. 
 
 " Yes. You see, our dancing-girl was probably not 
 too happy with the grim, old Vicenza," continues the 
 Austrian officer, " and was much pleased when, with 
 our troops, Bolza, the head of the secret police, came 
 back to power in Milan. Excuse me," he chuckles; 
 " but this story is the laughter of every one in Lom- 
 bardy. To Bolza, la contessa fled, and cried : ' I did 
 thy mission ! You promised me immunity from Aus- 
 trian law ! ' 
 
 ' ' Certainly, Madame la Comtesse,' replied the suave 
 head of police, who, having squeezed the orange, was 
 anxious to get rid of the rind. ' I have scratched your 
 name off our books ; you are free from us.' 
 
 " With this, thanking him, with tears of joy in her 
 eyes, Eugenia turned to go her way; but at the very 
 door stood her grim, old taskmistress, Vicenza, perhaps
 
 306 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 having hint from Bolza. In she came, and said : ' 1 
 claim this apprentice under the municipal law of 
 Milan!' 
 
 " ' Woman,' screamed la contessa, savagely, ' take 
 your vile hands off of me ! I am free ! ' 
 
 " But Bolza remarked : ' Let me see the contract ; ' 
 and, looking it over, said : ' This document is un- 
 doubtedly official and correct, on stamped paper. We 
 do not interfere with municipal laws. Take thy ap- 
 prentice, old Madre Vicenza, and make her as good a 
 dancer as her mother was.' 
 
 "'Diavolo!' cried old Paola. 'Is not this noble 
 blood I have my grasp upon ? ' For already the weep- 
 ing contessa was in her stalwart hands. 
 
 " ' As noble as her mother's, who was considered 
 the best ballerina in Trieste.' 
 
 " And so, being led away, screaming and stamping 
 her feet, to the old house in the Via Oriani, your pretty 
 spy, Da Messina, has been made into the most exquisite 
 dancer Milan has probably ever seen by hard exercise 
 and some privations. But I don't think I'd better con- 
 tinue Madame is so so innocent." 
 
 " Pish ! When you thought me a child in short 
 clothes, I was a widow ! " laughs Estelle ; then begs : 
 " Tell me! Mio padrone will let me listen," she adds, 
 slipping her hand into Carlo's. 
 
 " Very well, gnadige frau! Having made her suc- 
 cess, Eugenia begged piteously that old Paola would 
 permit to her one lover; so young Hugo Esterhazy, 
 who has a principality in Bohemia, and is as rich as a 
 Lichenstein, besides being probably the handsomest 
 man in the Regiment Archduke Charles, has become 
 her slave ; purchased her indentures from old Vicenza 
 at some fabulous price; and taken la contessa in tri- 
 umph to Vienna." 
 
 At this, Estelle, clenching her little hand, says, vi- 
 ciously : " Don't laugh, Carlo ! You may pardon her 
 villainies, but / never shall ! " 
 
 " And why, little one ? "
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 307 
 
 " Because that woman, for one moment, made you 
 think I was untrue to your love." 
 
 " Please remember this, dear one : that, if "Eugenia 
 had not been a spy, we would never have known what 
 a friend we have in Franz," remarks Carlo, as the two 
 gentlemen walk off, and Da Messina astonishes Cre- 
 mieux by introducing his Austrian enemy as his 
 brother. 
 
 It is the 8th of June, 1859 a day of triumph in Mi- 
 lano. Victor Emmanuel, the King of Sardinia, and 
 Louis Napoleon, the Emperor of the French, have en- 
 tered the capital of Lombardy, from which its pop- 
 ulace, after the defeat of the Austrians at Magenta, 
 had once more torn down the Imperial banners, and 
 thrown to the breeze the flag of United Italia. 
 
 The allied armies having marched in during the 
 morning, the evening is a gala one; among its 
 features a grand performance at La Scala. 
 
 The vast house, draped from pit to dome with the 
 colors of France and Italy, is crowded by a mighty 
 audience, made brilliant by the toilets of the ladies of 
 the old Milanese nobility and the gorgeous uniforms of 
 the officers of two armies. The great Imperial box, in 
 which the stout, old Radetzky had once held state as 
 Governor-General of Lombardy, is to be occupied by 
 the Emperor of France and the King and Queen of 
 Italy, these sovereigns being attended by dazzling 
 staffs ; the young Queen by a bevy of fair women of 
 exquisite robes and noble pedigrees. 
 
 Then the strains of the national airs of France and 
 Italy, played by a vast orchestra, supplemented by the 
 band of the Imperial Guard, herald the entry of the 
 united sovereigns. Soon after the curtain goes up on 
 an empty stage. 
 
 People gaze astonished at one another ; but the im- 
 presario, coming forward, says : " The greatest tenor 
 in Italy was hissed off these boards by his country- 
 men, because he loved an Austrian ; yet from the very
 
 308 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 
 
 spot on which I stand he proved his truth to his country 
 by calling to his unarmed townsmen to rise against their 
 tyrants ! No man shall sing upon this stage till Per- 
 golese sings ! " 
 
 He points to a second-tier box, where a man not yet 
 forty, in the plain, red shirt of the Garibaldians, with a 
 captain's insignia upon his shoulders, is sitting beside 
 a lady in the very zenith of her beauty. 
 
 Many of the vast audience had seen Da Messina do 
 the deed; had heard his voice cry out to them to rise 
 for liberty ! Some had fought beside him at the Tosa 
 Gate! 
 
 The house recognizes him! The gallery and pit 
 rise up and cry : " VIVA PERGOLESE ! " 
 
 The boxes take it up. The allied sovereigns beckon 
 to this patriot, whose lovely voice in exile had charmed 
 the world. His chief, the patriot Garibaldi, cries from 
 a loge: " I command thee, Carlo ! " 
 
 In a jiffy the crowd run into his box, pick him up 
 on their shoulders, and carry him upon the stage ; while 
 Estelle sits, half laughing, half weeping, as great honor 
 is done unto the man she loves. 
 
 So, standing before them on the stage from which 
 he had been hissed, Pergolese, now at the very acme 
 of his powers, sings to them first, by the request of 
 the King of Italy, the last great scena from " Lucia," 
 and next the song of the Garibaldians. 
 
 This last he delivers with the majesty of a patriot 
 and the elan of a zouave ; and, the dramatic timbre of 
 his glorious voice putting into southern hearts romance, 
 enthusiasm, passion, the audience begin to sing with 
 him the hymn of liberty. 
 
 At its close, showers of flowers fall upon him, the 
 Queen of Italy throwing to him the bouquet presented 
 by the Emperor of France. 
 
 Being called into the Imperial box, from it, after a 
 moment, the warrior-tenor turns, wearing the Cross of 
 the Legion of Honor, given to him by the Emperor of 
 the French, and the gold medal of valor, pinned upon
 
 ADRIENNE DE PORTALIS. 309 
 
 his breast by his King ; the fair Queen of Italy saying 
 to him : " After this is over, Cavaliere, present your 
 wife to me. I am told she did an angel's part when, 
 ten years ago, this great theater was a hospital." 
 
 But as he rejoins her in their box, Estelle sees her 
 husband's brow is contemplative, and asks the reason. 
 To her he answers : " A return from exile is always 
 painful. As I stood upon the stage there, I thought of 
 my poor Luciano, who laid down his life so gallantly 
 for Italia before the City of the Seven Hills, and many 
 other noble souls who have gone from us forever." 
 
 " Yes ; but at least let us thank God, Carlo, that dear, 
 old Franz is stationed in Hungary; so your swords 
 will not clash in this war, as in the other. But that is 
 not all that ruffles you, my husband, is it ? " 
 
 " Not quite. To-night is the last time I sing in 
 public." 
 
 " Gran Dio ! Your voice was never more lovely ! " 
 
 " Yes ; that's the reason. This is my perihelion. It's 
 better to disappear in a blaze of glory like a rocket 
 than flicker out as a tallow-dip. I have sufficient for- 
 tune. In ten years from now some other gentleman 
 would sing me off the stage. Dead tenors are not 
 remembered long ; though patriots and statesmen some- 
 times live forever." Then his eyes blaze up ; he whis- 
 pers, very tenderly : " Besides, dear one, there is no 
 other fugitive Baronne for Pergolese to indenture " 
 
 " And forever afterward make happy ! " laughs Es- 
 telle. " But, Mon Dieu! put on a brighter face when 
 you present thy bound-girl to the Queen of Italy, mio 
 padrone! " 
 
 For this mutinous speech, in the anteroom of the box, 
 the fair apprentice gets a most savage kiss, 
 
 FINIS.
 
 Mr. Potter 
 
 of Texas. 
 
 AMERICAN EDITION, 
 
 ENGLISH EDITION, 
 
 "The description of the Bom- 
 bardment of Alexandria, in <Mr. 
 Potter of Texas,' is, perhaps, the 
 most stirring picture painted by 
 the pen of any writer in several 
 generations"
 
 Baron Montez 
 
 4 NOfEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 Mr. Barnes of New York," "Mr. Potter of Teaa," etc. 
 
 " Here, certainly, is a rattling story.** 
 
 N. K Times, June 5th, 1893. 
 
 "Mr. Gunter has written nothing better than the 
 volume before us, and that is high praise indeed, for 
 his writings in recent years have had a worldwide 
 reputation." 
 
 Ohio State Journal, Columbus, May 29, 1893. 
 
 * With the merit of continuous and thrilling interest" 
 Chicago Times, May 27, 1893. 
 
 i 
 
 " The latest of Mr. Gunter's popular romances will be 
 read with interest by the many who have already followed 
 the fortunes of * Mr. Barnes of New York,' and ' Mr. 
 Potter of Texas.' " 
 
 The Times, Philadelphia, Pa., May 20, 1893. 
 
 " This is a story of thrilling interest." 
 
 Christian Leader, Cincinnati, June 6, 1893.
 
 DON BALASCO 
 OF KEY WEST 
 
 BY 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 j. V *MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK"; "A PRINCESS OF PARIS"; 
 "THE KING'S STOCKBROKER," ETC., ETC. 
 
 The first thin; we have to s; / after reading this marvelous story of ad- 
 venture, intrigue, deception, Spanish brutality, Cuban patriotism, love and 
 fidelity, sacrifice and heroism, and the inexcusably cold indifference of the 
 United States Government: that cold and criminally apathetic must be thf 
 heart of the man who does not at once become an ardent sympathizer and a 
 
 beneficent actor with the Cubans struggling for life and liberty 
 
 . . The description of the West Indies by the gifted author of the seas and 
 islands, and of the people American, Spanish, and Cuban and of the climate, 
 and of the manners, and customs, and temperaments of a volatile people, is a 
 piece of word painting truly sublime and fascinating. 
 
 Christian Leader, Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 Plenty of the romance, excitement, and surprise for which Mr. Gunter's 
 Hovels are noted. Betton Journal. 
 
 Have you read Mr. Archibald Clavering Gunter's latest story? If not, 
 get a copy at once at the nearest news-stand . Before you begin it, however, 
 eat a good square meal, for you will not eat again until you have finished the 
 book. Thai is true of all his stories. The Rochester Courier. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 Sent post-paid on receipt of price. 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 What some of America s 
 ablest Critics say of 
 
 JACK CURZON 
 
 SJF 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 r 
 
 "We find a itory of great vivacity in A. C. Gunter's 'Jack Curzon.' " N. Y, Sun. 
 
 "I* full of rf ish and abound* with dramatic incident." New Haven Miming 
 Knot, 
 
 "The book ha* lot* of humor in it, is intensely interesting, and will certainly 
 meet with universal favor." Daily Journal, Phillipsburg, Pa, 
 
 "Gunter is certainly the novelist of the day, who comes nearest to Alexander 
 Dumas, and to our taste he surpasses the Frenchman. If you doubt this, throw aside 
 your encyclopedia and history, and study the Filipino question, with Jack Curzon a* 
 your guide and entertainer." The Prett-Kniclerbocker, Albany, N. Y. 
 
 "Jack Curzon will be received with pleasure in all parts of the country. . . . 
 Mr. Gunter has all the faculties of a successful novelist. He is a graceful, forceful, pun- 
 gent writer as occasion requires. He is a shrewd analyzer of character, and an excellent 
 weaver of plots in which there is a warp and woof of amusing and thrilling incident." 
 '--Oakland Tribune. 
 
 "Romance lurks in every corner of the story, and is guided with the special skill 
 for which Mr. Gunter has already acquired a reputation. The tropical nature of the 
 urrounJings of Manila are painted with spirited color, and the author's knowledge of 
 prevailing Spat ^ conditions is strongly handled. The story is throughout one of ver- 
 atile Incident, so glowingly touched with reality that the clinching argument of the 
 scenes so nearly simultaneously with the American viftory at Manila bring "Jack Cur- 
 zon" forward as one of the most absorbing novels of the season . . . Mr. Guntei 
 could not well have written a novel that would win more unanimous interest. It i* 
 equipped with every possible factor to hold human attention, and is moreover pene- 
 trated by peculiar mental virility and color. "--Boston Ideas. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or sent prepaid on receipt of price 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK-
 
 BOB COVINGTON 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 Archibald Clavering Gunter 
 
 "Of intense interest." St. Louis Star. 
 
 "There is not a dull line between the covers." 
 
 St. Louis Post-Despatch^ 
 
 4 
 
 "Better thanliMrXBarneslof 
 
 e London Times. \ 
 
 Cloth, $1.50 Paper,^50.Cents> 
 
 j^ 
 
 Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by> 
 
 Hurst & Company' 
 
 Wl 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 M. S. Bradford 
 
 Special 
 
 A MARVELOUS STORY OF THE DAY 
 
 ... BY ... 
 
 ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 Author of 
 
 " Mr. Barnes of New York," " Bob Covington," 
 "Billy Hamilton," "Jack Curzon," Etc. 
 
 The Boot is divided into three most unique yet aadacion* 
 episodes, entitled: 
 
 1. THE INVESTIGATION DOWN TOWN 
 II. THE ROMANCE UP TOWN 
 III. ADAM AND EVE IN WALL STREET 
 
 Uoth, $1.50 Paper, 50 Cents 
 
 For sale by all booksellers, or 
 sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 BY 
 
 Archibald Clavering Gunter 
 
 is divided as follows 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 A NEW ENGLAND HOTEL MAN 
 diopter 1 The Drummer of the Village Band 
 // Mrs. Russell's Dinner Party 
 /// The Deacon's Letter smells of Vice 
 " IV A Brand snatched from the Burning 
 r Venus at the V7ashtub 
 
 BOOK // 
 
 THE PASSIONS OF A HERMIT 
 Cfaftcr VI Miss Broxton decides she is not in Love 
 " VII Society drives into the Deacon's Back Yard 
 " VIII The Marble-headed Man 
 " IX Brother Ver Planck 
 " X ANewAbelard 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 THE TRIBULATIONS OF RUTHY ABBOTT 
 Chapter XI Elder Ver Planck's Washing Powder 
 xil Tell me who Ruth Abbott is I " 
 " XIII "Give the Deacon his Second Wind" 
 XIV " Down on your Knees, Squire Perkiael" 
 " XV A Prejudice cruel as Death 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 THE DEACON'S SECOND WIND 
 
 Sic him, Rover I " 
 XVII Was that Dad ? " 
 XVIII Tpmpkins's Photographic Gallery 
 XIX Tight Boots have made ye cranky, Deacon 
 XX Voices from Box B 
 XXI The Surprises of a Night 
 
 Cloth, 1.50 Paper, 50 cent* 
 
 At all Boot J/en, or tent prepaid on receipt effriet by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 PHIL CONWAY 
 
 -By 
 
 Archibald Clavering Guntcr 
 
 THIS extraordinary story of how a trip to Central 
 America nearly ruined the happiness of one of New 
 York's great speculators and financiers equals in interest 
 the famous novel "Ma. BARNES OF NEW YORK," by the same 
 author, and consequently will have the same unprecedented 
 number of readers. 
 
 The following partial list of chapters will convey in part, 
 the scope and interest of this most dramatic novel : 
 
 IN A BACHELOR'S APARTMENT HOUSE 
 
 THE REVELATION OF THE PARROT'S CAGE 
 THE BROKEN SCISSORS 
 
 THE LADY AT THE HOTEL WINDOW 
 THE WIFE OF THE REFUGEE 
 
 THE TELEGRAM SENT FROM COBAN 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE FUGITIVE 
 
 ON THE DECK OF THE NEW ORLEANS BOAT 
 THE LITTLE FLAT IN FIFTY-EIGHTH STREET 
 A TETE-A-TETE MULEBACK RIDE 
 
 His MAGNIFICENT ENEMY 
 
 THE OPEN TELEPHONE 
 A LADY VISITS THE BACHELOR'S FLAT 
 THE FAIRY BRIDAL GIFT 
 
 BEFORE THE ALTAR I BURY MY FATHER'S WRONGS" 
 
 HER LIKE FIRST, HER LOVE AFTERWARDS" 
 
 THE SURPRISES OF A NIGHT 
 
 Cloth. 1.5O Paper. SO cents 
 
 For sale by all booksellers or sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 J ti jf * Out 
 
 he C I T Y of 
 
 MYSTERY 
 
 -/\rcKibald v^lavering Counter 
 
 IN the year 1851 inaugurating the era of vast improvements in the 
 streets and boulevards in the City of Paris, there were demolished 
 in the Rue de la Tixeranderie, seventy-five buildings, among them 
 some of the most celebrated and venerable in ancient Paris. 
 
 During the destruction of one of these gloomy old edifices, 
 evidences were discovered that it had been the infamous private prison 
 mentioned by Saint Simon and other writers of the French Regency, 
 the one kept under the orders of Monsieur Marc Rene d'Argenson, 
 Lieutenant General of the Police or Paris, by his exempt officer Pomereu, 
 in which were incarcerated without process of law any unfortunate 
 persons that official thought proper to seclude. 
 
 An attempt by Parliament t correct this abuse by the arrest 
 of Pomereu himself, was instantly defeated by a lettre de cachet 
 from the Regent, and the house of mysterious disappearances re- 
 mained in its full dread mediaeval-prison significance overawing 
 personal liberty in Paris, very little known, very little talked 
 about, one of the secret, silent, ghastly of horrors of the world. 
 
 In one of the offices attached to its gloomy cells were 
 found a series of papers buried or forgotten for two centuries, 
 consisting chiefly of extracts taken from the archive of 
 the Exempt, Pomereu himself, describing some ot the 
 very private intrigues, plots and cabals of thaf. marvellous 
 epoch when Paris became the centre of the finance ot 
 the world, adding the extraordinary vivacity of spec- 
 ulations so grand and so bizarre, that they lent ro- 
 mance to the sombre yet pompous atrocities of the 
 ancient regime. 
 
 The first of these, powerful as a secret 
 of the police, and absorbing as the story 
 a great conspiracy is entitled 
 "THE CITY OF MYSTERY.' 
 
 Cloth 1.5O Taper SO CenU
 
 A Novel of Startling Interest 
 
 in the complications which have lately arisen in the 
 Far East between 
 
 RUSSIA AND JAPAN 
 
 ""Tangled Flag's" 
 
 By ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER 
 
 The hero of the story is a Japanese officer educated 
 at West Point and purchasing artillery for his govern- 
 ment from an American Connecticut arms manufactory. 
 His views on Russian aggression are typical of the ideas 
 of his country. 
 
 No novel in recent years has had a larger sale 
 
 "A rattling romance." -New York Herald. 
 
 "Mr. Gunter will retain his public as long as he turns out such boolu M 
 Tangled Flags.' " Ne-w Tor A Ma'! and Express. 
 
 " 'Tangled Flags' is a book well worthy to begin the literature of the new 
 century. Osuri ICatsuma stands forth as strongly as any of Dumas 's heroes.'* 
 The Literary News. 
 
 "While the flags of the nations are becoming entangled in Peking, it it 
 mall wonder that these people, so diverse in character and training and purpose, 
 should entangle their fortunes and affairs. But few living novelists have the 
 genius and the personal acquaintance with the scenes and events ihat will help 
 to weave them into such a satisfactory romance as 'Tangled Flags.' "-< 
 Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer. 
 
 Cloth. 1.5O faper. SO CenU 
 
 At all Booksellers or sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
 
 Hurst and Company, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.
 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed.
 
 JESffiSH REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 038 899
 
 Ufl