ONE OF THE 
 VISCONTI 
 
 EVA W-BRODHEAD 
 
 mim
 
 J. C.
 
 THE IVORY SERIES 
 
 Each, 16mo, gilt top, 75 cents 
 
 AMOS JUDD. By J. A. Mitchell 
 Editor of "Life" 
 
 IA. A Love Story. By Q 
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 THE SUICIDE CLUB 
 
 By Robert Louis Stevenson 
 
 IRRALIE'S BUSHRANGER 
 By E. W. Hornung 
 
 A MASTER SPIRIT 
 
 By Harriet Prescott Spofford 
 
 MADAME DELPHINE 
 By George W. Cable 
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 By Eva Wilder Brodhead 
 
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 By Cornelia Atwood Pratt 
 
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 UNIV. OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELF* 
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONT1 
 
 A NOVELETTE 
 
 BY 
 
 EVA WILDER BRODHEAD 
 
 Author of "Diana's Li-very," "An Earthly Paragon, 
 ' ' Ministers of Grace " 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK, 1896
 
 Copyright, 1896, by 
 Charles Scribner's Sons 
 
 TROW DIRECTORY 
 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
 NEW YORK
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 2125631
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 SCARCELY any one had expected mail at 
 Gibraltar. Indeed, the post-bag, which had 
 gone ashore filled to its utmost limit, had 
 come aboard lean and limp enough to sug- 
 gest entire emptiness. The ship for several 
 moments had been in motion. People were 
 resigning themselves anew to deck-chairs 
 and rugs, or leaning on the rails for a last 
 look at the fortress, when the attention of 
 those who sat about the main doorway was 
 rather suddenly taken by the appearance on 
 the high threshold of a steward with a 
 large violet-tinted envelope in his fat red 
 hand. Everybody who could see the en- 
 closure felt at once a stir of lively interest.
 
 4 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 There was a movement, an exclamation, a 
 growing murmur of curiosity and surmise. 
 Something rather like impatience even be- 
 gan to develop in the faces of the nearer 
 passengers, as the steward, stolidly fixed 
 in the doorway, set himself to a slow and 
 heedful study of the address, now and then 
 casting a mild, German eye up and down 
 the thronged deck. Finally they saw him 
 nod twice to himself in a reassuring manner. 
 He had caught sight, far forward, of a man, 
 who, with a gray coat thrown across his 
 shoulder in the fashion of a mantle, stood 
 gazing at the stony rise. 
 
 He was a young man to whose sharp, 
 dark face, large-nosed and thin-lipped, a 
 pair of very light hazel eyes and a crop of 
 somewhat bushy black hair contributed a 
 distinctly unusual look. Even his common- 
 place fore-and-aft cap did not entirely do 
 away with a certain suggestion about him 
 of something which might perhaps be called 
 out-of-date rather than picturesque. The 
 very animation of his attitude as he stood
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 5 
 
 draped in the long coat, with his chin lifted 
 and fingers lightly touching the guard-rail, 
 bore a hint of times outworn, of the South, 
 of Henry Clay and forensic eloquence and 
 impassioned beliefs and hot political issues. 
 A slight tremor shook the corners of his 
 shaven lip as he looked back at the sullen 
 rock, the bright blue waters, and the little 
 Spanish town, which, like a stroke of chalk 
 on a ground of indigo, lay opposite those 
 frowning heights. Behind the low houses 
 of the hamlet a mere drift of bleached 
 bones across the bay all the rippling hills 
 were fading in the freshness of the early 
 light. Every instant softened the outlines 
 of the half-dozen men-of-war in the har- 
 bor. The white ensign floating from one 
 withdrawing mast, showed barely a trace of 
 its rosy cross : a length of bunting beyond 
 it, marked with deep blue, seemed now only 
 to shadow some faint reflection of the sea or 
 sky. Distance was blurring everything. In- 
 numerable gulls which had surrounded the 
 steamer during its hour in port could still
 
 6 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 be seen whitening the bay with dim, dip- 
 ping flights ; but the shrill cries of the yel- 
 low-footed host came more and more ob- 
 scurely, mingled with the faint, far fifing of 
 some ordinance in a war-ship off the mole. 
 
 The man in the fore-and-aft cap turned 
 sharply as the steward, pausing at his elbow, 
 addressed him. 
 
 " For me ? " he asked, regarding the pur- 
 plish packet. The steward smiled the pa- 
 ternal smile common to stewards. 
 
 " So it seems ! " he said. " That is your 
 name, hein ? ' ' 
 
 "I believe so," smiled Cabell. Then, 
 scanning the angular handwriting with a 
 growing sense of familiarity, he added, " It's 
 all right, Max," but in a less interested tone, 
 for he had begun to be sure that the letter 
 was from Leilia. 
 
 The thought of Leilia was disquieting 
 and unwelcome. During the year that was 
 now lapsing to an end, Cabell had more 
 than once let his mind drift from weighty 
 matters connected with his practice of the
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 7 
 
 law, to vague but bitter speculations upon 
 Leilia and Leilia's ways, and the probable 
 effect of Leilia's actions upon the life and 
 character of her husband. It was these 
 probable effects which gave Cabell concern. 
 Regarding Leilia, he felt merely a general 
 reprobation which her protracted sojourn 
 abroad had merely made a little more defi- 
 nite. Whether there was any actual point 
 of variance between his cousin and the man 
 she had married, Cabell did not pretend to 
 know. His mediation had not been asked, 
 assuredly, and he often told himself, angrily 
 and vainly, that there was something mor- 
 ally officious in his continual worrying over 
 Fanning's supposed grievances. 
 
 Fanning himself had never said that any- 
 thing was wrong in his household. During 
 the first year of Leilia's absence, she in her 
 letters, and Fanning in his talks with Ca- 
 bell, were always speaking regretfully of the 
 separation enforced upon them by their de- 
 sire of giving Burbridge such advantages as 
 his superior talents seemed to demand. Bur-
 
 8 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 bridge had been three years old when he be- 
 gan those foreign experiences which his par- 
 ents fondly agreed in believing necessary to 
 his development. He was nearly seven now, 
 and yet Leilia's return home was as far as 
 ever from accomplishment. 
 
 "It's like this," Fanning had been used 
 to say at first. "It's like this, Dick! " 
 And pocketing his big hands, and fixing his 
 profoundly honest eyes on Cabell, he would 
 add, " that boy of ours is as smart as a 
 whip. Really, now ! I'm not led away by 
 parental fondness. He's sharp as a tack. 
 The way he's picking up French over there 
 is amazing. Why, I tell you I was stunned, 
 positively stunned when I was over in June. 
 Couldn't catch a word, not a word he 
 chatters it off so fast ! Now, me you re- 
 member how I always flunked the languages ? 
 yes, had no turn for 'em at all. Chil- 
 dren, now, they pick things up without an 
 effort. Leilia says that another six months 
 or so will fix matters in his mind securely 
 enough to make her feel justified in bringing
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 9 
 
 him home. Between you and me, Dick, I 
 hope so. I miss them like the very deuce ! 
 Of course I don't say a word; but this 
 hanging round hotels and clubs don't suit 
 me at all. I don't know why. Seems to 
 strike other fellows about right. I suppose 
 I can stand it awhile longer. In fact, I've 
 got to. I should feel like a hound if I in- 
 sisted on their leaving Paris just when Bur's 
 on the point of getting things fixed in his 
 little noddle. ' ' 
 
 It was only in the first year of his loneli- 
 ness, however, that Fanning had talked in 
 this way. During the progress of the sec- 
 ond year he said little more of his family 
 than that every one was well; and in the 
 third and following year, unless directly 
 questioned, he never spoke at all of Leilia 
 or his boy. 
 
 In these later times, Cabell, occasionally 
 running up to Cincinnati on affairs of his 
 own, had not failed to observe the very 
 great change in his old friend's manner. 
 Formerly, at sight of him on the office thresh-
 
 10 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 old, Fanning had been accustomed to spring 
 from his littered desk, and, overturning any 
 chair or waste-basket in his way, to stride 
 across the room and clasp Cabell by the 
 hand and shoulder in a vociferous outburst 
 of welcome. Nowadays, when Cabell went 
 down to the murky river region where the 
 iron-works of which Fanning was senior 
 partner massed its smoky walls, he was 
 quite sure beforehand of being greeted with 
 nothing more than a quiet friendliness. All 
 the old boyish enthusiasm had left Fanning. 
 He would say as usual, " Hello, Dick ! glad 
 to see you, old man." But his tone rang 
 empty, and his rough head and square, 
 loose frame seemed as if invested with a 
 weariness which made an aspect of warm 
 cordiality no longer easy. 
 
 Fanning was a plain man with a hint of 
 dulness in his glance, a touch of heaviness in 
 the soft modelling of his large features. He 
 looked as if his nature was one to be easily 
 understood and easily moved. Yet there was 
 in him a kind of simple dignity which made
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI II 
 
 it rather hard even for his best friend to 
 think of soliciting a withheld confidence. 
 
 "Besides," said Cabell to himself, "I 
 am the last man to expect to be asked to 
 condole with him on the unhappiness of his 
 marriage. I warned him how it would be 
 or tried to." And his mind reverted to 
 the summer in which Fanning had met 
 Leilia and had fallen in love with her in so 
 heedless and headlong a fashion. 
 
 It was the summer which had ended their 
 college life, and Cabell had brought Fan- 
 ning home with him for a fortnight's visit 
 in the old Kentucky town, never dreaming 
 that his slow, staid, sensible friend might 
 by any chance spend a moment's thought 
 on Leilia. It is always difficult for a man 
 to realize that a woman whom he himself 
 does not in the least admire, may have a 
 potent charm for some one whose intelli- 
 gence he respects. Leilia was clever enough 
 and not without a kind of prettiness ; but 
 she had been since her orphaned childhood 
 an inmate of Judge Cabell's house, and Ca-
 
 12 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 bell, having been privileged to grow up in 
 close companionship with his cousin, had 
 not been, even as a boy, blinded by her 
 graces of mind or person to the fact of 
 what he considered a rarely selfish and un- 
 certain disposition. 
 
 "Poor little Leilia ! " Cabell's mother 
 would sigh, after some gentle adjuration to 
 her son upon the necessity of exercising pa- 
 tience toward those whose natural traits 
 seem calculated most severely to try this 
 virtue, " she has not been properly disci- 
 plined. For all my strength of character, I 
 must admit that I am weak with Leilia. I 
 don't seem to be able to deny her anything. 
 She is my dead brother's child, Dick. I 
 can't forget that, even when she seems ca- 
 pricious. And when no one crosses her she 
 is really very sweet." 
 
 Leilia happened to be in one of these 
 sweet and tractable humors at the time of 
 Fanning's visit; but Cabell had no suspi- 
 cion of his friend's danger until later in the 
 summer. Then, upon a memorable day in
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 13 
 
 August, Fanning rather unexpectedly ap- 
 peared in Nicholasville, and, having taken 
 Cabell aside, seized his hand and stammered 
 out, quite pale with emotion, that Leilia had 
 promised to be his wife. 
 
 "The judge has consented and your 
 mother also," added he, breathlessly. " Say, 
 Dick! I I don't deserve such happiness. 
 I can hardly understand it. I'm over- 
 come." 
 
 Cabell was also overcome. He felt 
 stunned and aghast. Fanning was by no 
 means the sort of man he had imagined Lei- 
 lia would fancy. Her ideal of ardor and 
 elegance had nothing in common with 
 Tanning's proportions. Remembering the 
 coldness and calculation which he had al- 
 ways attributed to his cousin, Cabell felt 
 sure that the considerable estate which Fan- 
 ning's father had left him might not be 
 without its effect in constraining Leilia's 
 acquiescence. He turned pale at the 
 thought, and Fanning saw the change in his 
 thin, dark face.
 
 14 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 "Dick!" he gasped in an anguish of 
 surmise, "don't tell for God's sake don't 
 tell me that my happiness is built on the 
 ruins of any hope of yours ! Oh, if you love 
 
 her too " He staggered, throwing up 
 
 a hand as if in appeal to heaven that this 
 thing might not be. Cabell stared. His 
 comprehension of the other's thought was 
 not immediate, but suddenly he understood. 
 
 " What ! " he cried, shaken and amazed. 
 "I? to care for a girl like that cold, 
 shallow, soulless ? ' ' He arrested himself 
 in a breath. "I'm ashamed," he went on, 
 "ashamed to have spoken so so sharply. 
 But I you see I've known her always, Jim ! 
 If I thought she'd make you happy but 
 I I'm afraid " 
 
 Fanning had turned a little, and was 
 looking composedly down the street. Two 
 or three new, smart houses projected them- 
 selves on the view, but most of the buildings 
 in sight were old, and a few had pillared gal- 
 leries and little old-fashioned side-lights fram- 
 ing the doors. Toward the end of the street
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 15 
 
 the court-house showed itself in a thicket of 
 trees. Outside its enclosure a group of little 
 negroes were playing about the town pump, 
 which, in the distance, displayed the mossy 
 curb of its rotting trough and the spick- 
 and-span newness of its iron handles and 
 railings. 
 
 Fanning seemed to be regarding the ob- 
 jects in range of the law-office window ; 
 when he finally faced around there was 
 neither anger nor sorrow in the lines of his 
 large mouth. 
 
 " We are to be married in the spring," 
 he said, simply ; and Cabell knew that, as to 
 himself, he had spoken to no other purpose 
 than to lessen the esteem in which Fanning 
 held him. 
 
 Some fugitive recollection of that morn- 
 ing in the little corner building which had 
 then been the judge's office, and was now 
 his own, was wandering in Cabell's mind as 
 he recalled his eyes from the vanishing fort- 
 ress to the letter, half opened in his hand. 
 The sheet was dated at Algiers, he found
 
 1 6 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 upon unfolding it, and Leilia addressed him 
 as her dearest cousin. 
 
 "Jim has just written me," she said, 
 " that you and your mother are on your way 
 to Italy. I need not try to tell you how 
 glad I am to think of so soon seeing you 
 and dear Aunt Virginia. Of course I am 
 grieved to know that it is her failing health 
 which induces you to make the journey. 
 But Naples is so lovely ! it will do her 
 worlds of good. I have numbers of charm- 
 ing friends there. As you know, I spend a 
 part of each winter in Naples, and it really 
 seems more like home to me than Paris. 
 Burbridge has always had a delicate throat, 
 and a southern air benefits him greatly. 
 Generally he is quite another child in Italy; 
 this year, however, he has not seemed to im- 
 prove as rapidly as usual, and it is on his ac- 
 count that I have been spending a few weeks 
 in Algiers. What I am particularly writ- 
 ing to say is that your steamer stops in this 
 port, and that we are going to join you and 
 travel to Naples in your care. I hope we shall
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 17 
 
 not prove a serious charge, dear cousin ! I 
 forgot to say, though it is rather an important 
 circumstance, that I have with me a friend 
 of whom I am very fond. She is a member 
 of one of the very oldest Neapolitan fami- 
 lies in short, when I tell you that she is 
 one of the Visconti, I need say nothing fur- 
 ther. I shall be glad to have you know her. 
 She is deeply interested in America and I 
 can tell her so little ! I seem to have for- 
 gotten everything ! " 
 
 Leilia added the usual compliments, and 
 Cabell, having deciphered the last drawling 
 line, pocketed the letter, and went to find 
 his mother and inform her of the tidings.
 
 II 
 
 THE young woman who was sitting beside 
 Mrs. Cabell in a sunny corner of the deck, 
 having watched the steward's progress with 
 .JLeilia's letter, said, in an accent of politely 
 restrained interest, " I think that important- 
 looking message is for your son, Mrs. Ca- 
 bell. He is certainly opening it though 
 not with impassioned eagerness." 
 
 Mrs. Cabell lifted her head from her cush- 
 ions in a flutter of curiosity. She was well 
 on in years and very white and fragile in ap- 
 pearance, with hazel eyes like those of her 
 son, and a quantity of soft drab hair which 
 was combed into puffs at each temple. 
 These smooth puffs looked as if only their 
 small shell combs kept them from escaping 
 in bunches of sentimental ringlets such as
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 19 
 
 droop over the ears of swan-throated ladies 
 in portraits of an earlier time. 
 
 ' ' You see how composedly he is reading 
 it," added the younger woman, with a 
 bright smile on her dark little face. " Yet 
 it is certainly a woman's letter. That lilac 
 tone is positive proof! " 
 
 She began to laugh at the mild anxiety 
 which manifested itself in her companion's 
 face. 
 
 " I suppose I am very selfish," admitted 
 Mrs. Cabell, " for I often feel that it will 
 cost me a pang to give my son up. Of 
 course he will marry. I want he should 
 marry some time. But since the judge 
 died I've hoped it wouldn't be soon." 
 
 Mrs. Cabell had a sweet, thin voice and 
 she spoke with a sort of plaintive breathless- 
 ness. " I know I ought not to feel as I do. 
 I ought to encourage Richard to go out 
 more and not bury himself completely in his 
 business. I ought not to be glad that he spends 
 most of his evenings at home, and that as yet 
 he has never seemed to be specially attentive
 
 20 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 to any particular gyrl. Of course," inter- 
 posed Mrs. Cabell, thoughtfully, "there was 
 Anna Bedell. Pore Anna Bedell !" She 
 shook her head so sadly that Miss McClaren 
 felt impelled to ask, " Did she die? " 
 
 "She married," said Mrs. Cabell, with 
 a tragic intonation. She seemed about to 
 add something, but arrested herself with a 
 significant gesture; and Miss McClaren 
 observed that Cabell was threading the 
 thronged deck apparently on his way to 
 their corner, pausing now and then to speak 
 to an acquaintance. Despite the intimation 
 of reserve in his expression, his air was 
 cheerful enough to convince her that Anna 
 Bedell's marriage had not laid his life alto- 
 gether waste and empty ; and smiling a lit- 
 tle she abstracted herself in a book while 
 the young man imparted his news. It was 
 not easy, however, for her to avoid catch- 
 ing the gist of his words, or to be insensible 
 of the fact that Mrs. Cabell, in listening, was 
 becoming pale and disconcerted. 
 
 " So soon ! " murmured the older woman.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 21 
 
 "Of course I am glad we're going to have 
 Leilia and little Bur with us. But this 
 other ! this Visconti person ! I am dis- 
 turbed. I admit that I am disturbed. 
 You know why, Richard. You know that 
 I hoped not to be brought into associa- 
 tion with any one of this nationality. You 
 know what reason I have to abhor the 
 Italian character. I shall try, of course, to 
 be courteous to this friend of Leilia's. But 
 it will not be easy. I am naturally sincere. 
 I have very strong qualities, Richard. I 
 have often regretted being so forcible. I 
 fear that it will be impossible for me to con- 
 ceal my instinctive distrust and and dis- 
 like." 
 
 Rather to Miss McClaren's surprise, Ca- 
 bell began to laugh. 
 
 " Mother ! " he said, " mother ! are you 
 going to let yourself be swamped in such a 
 prejudice? Why, you've never known an 
 Italian in your life, dear little lady ! " 
 
 " I know of them, Dick." 
 
 He laughed again, appealing to Miss
 
 22 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 McClaren. "Fancy," he said, "that all 
 this fervor of detestation arises from the 
 circumstance that some years ago one of 
 our townswomen married a Roman gentle- 
 man " 
 
 " Hardly a gentleman, Richard." 
 
 " Well then, a prince ! or was he a count, 
 or a duke ? a titled personage who did not, 
 according to Nicholasville standards, prove 
 a model husband. Oh, not in the least ! 
 There is, unhappily, no accepted national 
 code upon the duties of husbands ; and the 
 prince and Anna Bedell seem to have been 
 completely at variance on these points. The 
 prince followed his own views, it appears ; 
 and the result has been to impress upon his 
 wife's family and all her friends and ac- 
 quaintances, a deep, deadly kind of belief 
 in the viciousness of Italians generally. ' ' 
 
 He paused, unpocketing a hand with 
 which to dramatize a further statement ; but 
 his mother, sitting very erect, pointed a fin- 
 ger like an ivory bodkin and protested. 
 
 " I am grieved, Dick, that you should
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 23 
 
 tell this mournful story with an air of 
 lightness ! You particularly, who were once 
 so fond of Anna." 
 
 Cabell speculated, 
 
 " Was I fond of Anna?" 
 
 " Fond ! Weren't you always saving your 
 money against Valentine's Day ? Weren't 
 you always lending her your pony ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes ! now that you recall it. I 
 must have been about eleven when I suf- 
 fered most from the effects of my passion. 
 She had other admirers, if I remember, and 
 I was early a prey to jealous torments." 
 
 "She had indeed other admirers," in- 
 sisted Mrs. Cabell, severely eying the spec- 
 tral blueness of the African coast. " I 
 don't suppose there was ever a prettier gyrl 
 raised in Jessamine County, Miss McClaren. 
 Her father made his money in tobacco, and 
 their home, some miles out of town, is 
 lovely. Mrs. Bedell often says now that if 
 they'd only been content to stay in it, all 
 their misfortune might have been avoid- 
 ed. Anna was an only daughter, you see,
 
 24 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and they were ambitious for her and took 
 her abroad to finish her education, and 
 that's how it all happened. For in Rome 
 she met this Count Orsini, and presently 
 we heard what a splendid marriage Anna 
 had made, and the Kentucky papers were 
 full of the count's family and estates, and 
 the Bedells were as proud as peacocks. 
 And after that, from time to time, we 
 learned how much Anna was admired, and 
 how the king, or was it the queen ? had 
 called her the most beautiful woman in Italy. 
 She certainly was mighty pretty ! ihew/u't- 
 est thing ! and her color was something to 
 marvel at. And her disposition was lovely, 
 too. Interested in church-work from her 
 childhood. She wasn't like you, Miss 
 McClaren ' ' 
 
 Miss McClaren started. " Don't hurt my 
 feelings! " she besought. 
 
 " I mean," explained Mrs. Cabell, hastily, 
 " that she wasn't exactly clever. She 
 could never have written about woman's en- 
 franchisement, or lectured, or made, as you
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 25 
 
 are doing, a comparative study of of the 
 condition of women ' ' 
 
 "in Southern Europe," said Miss 
 McClaren, coming to her relief. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Cabell. " I 
 should have recalled it presently. A very 
 noble work, I am sure very noble. Anna 
 couldn't have carried out any such er en- 
 terprise. But she was the most angelic 
 creature ! The judge used to say that by 
 marrying a foreigner she had secured to her- 
 self the widest opportunities for exercising 
 all the celestial virtues she might possess. 
 And so it seemed in the end. For about 
 six years ago word came that she was dead 
 only twenty, and dead ! And then Mrs. 
 Bedell came home ; she'd been with Anna 
 at the last ; and we found that instead of 
 leading a life all beauty and grandeur the 
 poor child had suffered everything in the 
 way of neglect and cruelty. I cannot go 
 over the details of the count's conduct," 
 said Mrs. Cabell, in a stammering fashion. 
 " But his actions were reprehensible to the
 
 26 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 last degree. And when Anna's eyes were 
 finally opened to to the kind of man he 
 was and the kind of life he led, she took her 
 baby in her arms and went and told him she 
 was going back to America. Mrs. Bedell 
 weeps bitterly to this day when she tells how 
 the count laughed at Anna and informed her 
 that it was no fault of his if life in the 
 world's capitals lacked the patriarchal sim- 
 plicity of rustic hamlets. He said that he 
 had never pretended to be cumbered with 
 mild domestic virtues, and that he must 
 ask her to remember that she had married 
 a nobleman and not an American sheep- 
 herder. He added that she might return to 
 her wilderness if she liked, but that his son 
 was an Orsini and would remain in Rome." 
 
 "Well, mother?" 
 
 " I am always overcome to think of that 
 interview, Dick! So of course Anna stayed 
 in Rome, too. Stayed there in that gloomy 
 dungeon of a palace till she died. They 
 called it a decline. The count, so Mrs. 
 Bedell says, was in Vienna at the time, spend-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 27 
 
 ing Anna's fortune in a princely way." Her 
 voice lapsed again in the sound of martial 
 trumpeting which echoed now along the 
 decks in token of the luncheon hour. 
 
 " I haven't much sympathy with girls who 
 marry foreigners," commented Miss Mc- 
 Claren, rising. "Marriage without racial 
 confusion is problematical enough to my 
 mind. I shouldn't despair, Mrs. Cabell ! 
 Perhaps the Visconti lady won't be just like 
 the count. And only think how useful she 
 will be to me ! I've never known but one 
 woman of that nation ; she is the wife of a 
 hurdy-gurdy man and very amiable. But 
 though I've questioned her considerably 
 through the basement window, I've never 
 been able to find out exactly how her coun- 
 trywomen regard the struggle for liberty in 
 which their sisters are everywhere engaged." 
 She concluded, turning to Cabell with one 
 of her sudden little imperative gestures, 
 " Remember ! you are to assist me in lay- 
 ing hold of the Visconti lady as soon as she 
 comes aboard ! ' '
 
 28 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 
 
 "Oh, I promise!" said Cabell, "only 
 too gladly. ' ' 
 
 Some recollection of his acquiescence 
 struck lightly through his mind upon the 
 morning when certain dim lines of blue along 
 the southern horizon began to awaken on 
 shipboard the animation which foretells ap- 
 proaching land. For an hour or two these 
 indefinite azure streaks hung vague and 
 diaphanous upon the margin of the sea ; but 
 as the sun rose higher, density and color were 
 added to the distance, and a reach of far 
 hills and valleys momently took form against 
 the pallor of the sky. As the headlands 
 lifted and lengthened, those who from deck 
 watched the changes of the faint, mysterious 
 shore could see upon it, here and there, dots 
 and dashes of white that might be villages, 
 while patches of rich shadow defined the hol- 
 lows in which the hamlets nestled. The sea 
 itself was wonderfully blue, and the ship ap- 
 peared to rest upon it without motion ; yet, 
 from a green height that sheered directly 
 from the glancing depths of the Mediterra-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 29 
 
 nean, the oval summit of a mosque rounded 
 suddenly into view, swelling like a great 
 white flower upon the dazzling sky. Then, 
 in a moment, the harbor opened; and 
 straight above it rose the city, tier on tier 
 of colorless, sharply outlined houses whose 
 lime-like walls wore a crisp, friable look in 
 the brightness of the sun. 
 
 Just beyond the circle of the bay the gra- 
 cious Moorish arch reduplicated itself in 
 numberless low scallops, forming shadowy 
 stone arcades on which a street seemed to lift 
 itself and stride away from the sea to the 
 palm-tufted heights above. Over the water 
 rolled a dull thunder of cannons, and a turn 
 of the shore brought into sight the black 
 shark -shapes of several ironclads, around 
 which smoke was rising white and soft. 
 
 A smart yacht in the offing floated the 
 stars and stripes, and hard by the stone curb- 
 ing of the sea rode a ship festooned from bow 
 to stern with endless twists of gay bunting, 
 with flags and streamers and pennants that 
 unfolded radiantly in the breeze and dyed
 
 30 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 the water all about in scarlet and purple and 
 yellow. 
 
 " Are you going ashore? " asked an ac- 
 quaintance of Cabell's, stopping beside him. 
 He was a tall man with weary eyes and a 
 lax, silken beard, which he had the habit of 
 languidly stroking. 
 
 "I am thinking of it," admitted Cabell. 
 "And you?" 
 
 "Oh, I!" breathed Mr. Dodd as if 
 rather startled. " Really, no. I've been 
 in Algiers no end of times, don't you 
 know ! It's very tiresome to reflect that 
 one has been everywhere oftener than one 
 cares to recall. Travel is a deadly bore. 
 But one can't stay at home, really ! One 
 has got to do something. Yet there is ab- 
 solutely nothing to do." He added, in a 
 depressed way: "This is my forty-eighth 
 passage, you know." 
 
 Cabell began to meditate. " Every man 
 on board seems to have spent most of his 
 time on the high seas," he commented. " I 
 didn't know there were so many Americans
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 31 
 
 who had money and time for incessant voy- 
 aging. And all of them appear to have im- 
 bibed, through these adventurings, a mild 
 contempt for their native land. That is 
 rather bad, isn't it? " 
 
 "Bad? Oh, no," protested Mr. Dodd, 
 fastening his lustreless glance on the fleet of 
 little boats approaching the ship. " I should 
 say it was rather promising, don't you 
 know ! Our nation's chief hope for the 
 future is in those discriminating spirits that 
 question her present institutions." He did 
 not concern himself with Cabell's smile, but 
 added, " One really cannot live in America, 
 you know. Personally I have some finan- 
 cial interests over there which I have to 
 look after occasionally ah ! good-morning, 
 Miss McClaren. Rather agreeable weather 
 for December ? ' ' 
 
 Miss McClaren paused. " Are all those 
 flags in our honor?" she asked. "We're 
 actually taking our place among the nations, 
 then. Please don't tell me they salute every 
 one in this way ! ' '
 
 32 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Mr. Dodd murmured his belief that the 
 cannonading was quite unusual, and as she 
 listened Miss McClaren gazed across the 
 bay. 
 
 " How pretty it all is ! " she said. " But 
 don't they do any business here? I don't 
 see a trace of traffic. It's curious." 
 
 " But very pleasant," replied Mr. Dodd. 
 " So different from New York with its fright- 
 ful warehouses, and docks and ferry-boats 
 and all that ! " Miss McClaren set a pair 
 of keen eyes upon him. 
 
 " I don't suppose there are many Amer- 
 icans who have the esthetic sense sufficiently 
 developed to make them anxious to see our 
 harbors growing full of water-lilies," she 
 speculated, coldly. 
 
 "We are indeed dreadfully utilitarian," 
 agreed Mr. Dodd. " Oh, alarmingly so ! 
 Though we may outgrow it if proper con- 
 ditions arise. There goes ashore our first 
 boat-load of sight-seers ! ' ' 
 
 " What conditions, for instance? " 
 
 " Conditions ? Oh, yes. When we cease
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 33 
 
 to be a republic. The removal of this vul- 
 garizing sentiment of equality will do much 
 for us." 
 
 " And are you looking forward to such a 
 change ? ' ' 
 
 " I think it doubtful," owned Mr. Dodd, 
 regretfully. " We had our chance after the 
 war and we didn't grasp it. Now ah ! 
 there is our friend Mr. Cabell waving his 
 hand to us yonder in the press of those 
 orange boats ! Captivating kind of fellow. 
 So delightfully young, you know, and in- 
 terested in things. A little narrow, of 
 course, and a trifle provincial and that. He 
 will age, however; he will age." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" smiled Miss McClaren, 
 angrily. " Like his poor country, he will, 
 doubtless, in time become soulless, bloodless, 
 and outworn." She flounced away, leaving 
 Mr. Dodd with an obscure sense of wonder. 
 
 Half-way across the bay Cabell' s gray 
 cap and bushy hair were still visible be- 
 tween the turbaned heads and loosely 
 swathed shoulders of his rowers. He was
 
 34 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 inspecting the passing boats, looking for 
 Leilia in them, and finding nowhere any one 
 who resembled her, either in the light shells 
 dancing seaward or among the people who 
 stood bargaining for transportation on the 
 moss-blotched curb of the shore. A wild 
 clamor, impatient and denunciatory, arose 
 from the throng of boatmen paddling in the 
 shallows. One of their number had moored 
 his skiff at the deep stone steps of the land- 
 ing, and there seemed to be a general fear 
 that he might succeed in securing to himself 
 all such passengers as were still on the bank. 
 . Only two, indeed, were left when he finally 
 pulled out, two women, who, as Cabell's 
 rowers fetched a long landward stroke, drew 
 back to escape the splashing of the oars. 
 
 Cabell, stepping on the curb, began a 
 word of apology, noting as he did so that 
 the nearer woman appeared to be a servant. 
 The other, who acknowledged his gesture 
 with a slight inclination of the head, seemed 
 to him an American girl, young, with dis- 
 tinction and charm in her look and manner
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 35 
 
 Her figure was a figure of the century, grace- 
 ful to delicacy ; and in passing, Cabell caught 
 the merest glance of a face as fresh and joy- 
 ous and smiling as a face of Boucher or 
 Mignard. There was a flat, knitted cap 
 pinned coquettishly upon this young person's 
 dark hair, but neither the fashion of her 
 head-gear nor the sweetness and gaiety of 
 her aspect, detracted from the suggestion 
 of gentle dignity which encompassed her. 
 Something definitely like pride haunted the 
 lines of the girlish countenance which lin- 
 gered in Cabell's perceptions as he stood 
 wondering if it might not be well for him to 
 yield to the solicitations of a cabman in the 
 street beyond. And as he seated himself 
 and was driven away he was for a moment 
 aware of pondering upon the unusual blend- 
 ing of majesty and sweetness in the young 
 woman's bearing. 
 
 Two weeks before, in Kentucky, it had 
 been winter. Here, summer in a plenitude 
 of fruit and blossom and soft sky and balsamy 
 air held the fancy captive, discovering new
 
 36 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 freshness and beauty at each turn of the 
 winding road. Up and up the cab rattled. 
 Presently a little park opened a reach of 
 tropical greenness in the midst of which a 
 pedestalled steed lifted its rider, and small 
 benches stood hospitably, and children 
 played, and zouaves in baggy uniforms pa- 
 raded their startling reds and blues. Out of 
 this shady expanse narrow alleys full of 
 bright shops sped like painted arrows from a 
 bent, dark bow. Still the road seemed to 
 rise and curve, and its wheeling length for- 
 ever brought in range varying aspects of the 
 bay, lying far below in a blueness which 
 made the sky look by contrast almost white. 
 Thick-set orange-trees leaned from wayside 
 gardens. Heaps of lily-like crimson flowers 
 hung over ruined walls and crumbling ter- 
 races, and often climbed as high as some 
 deep, latticed window, through which a 
 girl's dark eyes peered. Stuccoed heights 
 daubed with scrolls of scaling purple and 
 gold, zigzag roofs and rag-hung balconies, 
 women densely veiled below the eyes, little
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 37 
 
 boys in trousers resembling looped petticoats, 
 donkeys nodding under panniers of dirt, 
 fezzed personages beating instruments of 
 brass before certain shops such sights as 
 these whirled by in bewildering rapidity 
 and the harbor spread again in view its 
 sail-flecked sapphire. 
 
 When Cabell reached deck he perceived at 
 once that Leilia had arrived in his absence. 
 She was sitting beside his mother, and 
 even at the distance from which he observed 
 her, Cabell could not fail to see that how- 
 ever a prolonged foreign residence might 
 have effected in her a moral deterioration, 
 its result upon her materially had been only 
 improving. It struck him that there was 
 something a little studied in her gently at- 
 tentive poise ; but the smooth gloss of hair 
 lying against her soft, tranquil cheek and the 
 brooding quietude of her brown eyes gave 
 her so mild and madonna-like a look that 
 Cabell felt himself somewhat ashamed of his 
 suspicion. When Leilia saw him and held 
 out both hands to him in what seemed to be
 
 38 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 an instinct of the friendliest welcome, her 
 cousin blushed through his dark skin, re- 
 membering with vague amusement the chill- 
 ing rebuke he had fancied it might become 
 his duty to administer to this kind and 
 gracious lady. 
 
 "You haven't changed, Dick," said 
 Leilia. " That gravely expectant air ! how 
 well I remember it ! And are you still a 
 little absent-minded, cousin, as you used to 
 be? I fancy you must be, for you haven't 
 said yet that you are glad to see me ! " 
 
 Cabell recalled himself with a reply, which, 
 in spite of a lack of direct intention, bore a 
 flavor of compliment. 
 
 " I am far past such pretty folly," Leilia 
 smiled, shaking her head. " When you see 
 what a great boy I have to look after you 
 will realize how necessary it is for me to cul- 
 tivate a proper seriousness." 
 
 "And where is my little kinsman?" 
 asked Cabell, surveying the knots of people 
 along the deck. Advancing among them, 
 smiling with the same brightness he had
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 39 
 
 noted in seeing her upon the sea- washed 
 landing an hour before, he remarked the 
 young woman in the knitted cap to whom 
 he had made his excuses for the boatmen's 
 rudeness. Others besides himself were also 
 observing her with what appeared to be ad- 
 miring interest ; but though every one was 
 so regardful of her as she passed along, she 
 herself was heeding none except the small 
 boy dancing at her side. 
 
 "That is Bur," specified Leilia, taking 
 the direction of Cabell's eye. " He and 
 Piccarda are the greatest friends. I think 
 he is rather fonder of her than he is of me ! 
 I should be jealous if I did not love her so 
 much myself." 
 
 Cabell leaned thoughtfully upon the arm 
 of his mother's chair. 
 
 " Is that Signorina Visconti ? " he asked. 
 " Surely not ! " 
 
 " Why shouldn't it be ? " laughed Leilia. 
 
 " I don't know that I can give a logical 
 reason," Cabell mused. " Except that in 
 seeing your friend on shore just now I took
 
 40 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 her for a countrywoman of my own. Of 
 course it's a blow to my vanity to learn that 
 my penetration is not what I thought. A 
 lady of the Visconti, I judged, would be 
 high-featured and austere, with traces of blue 
 blood in her purplish complexion. I sup- 
 posed she would have a monumental heavi- 
 ness and frigidity. Now this young person 
 isn't in the least monumental ! and her 
 eyes are blue. It was a foregone conclusion 
 with me that any and all of the Visconti 
 would have an eagle glance, dark and ter- 
 rifying." 
 
 "So you have already seen Piccarda," 
 commented Leilia. ''She and my maid 
 went ahead. I had to stop for a last word 
 with Bur's physician. Isn't she charming? 
 Oh, every one spoils her ! " 
 
 Mrs. Cabell had been maintaining a con- 
 scientious reserve. She said now, in a tone 
 of reprobation, " I suppose she has a title." 
 
 Leilia shook her head. " No," she 
 said. " Titles, however, in Italy do not al- 
 ways imply distinction. Often old and
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 41 
 
 noble families are without them. The Vis- 
 conti, as of course you know, spring from 
 a stock old as the oldest, valorous in war, 
 spotless in honor. There are very few of 
 them left, only Piccarda orphaned in her 
 babyhood, and the head of the house, an 
 uncle, unmarried and by no means young." 
 Raising her voice a little she said, " Pic- 
 carda ? ' ' and Cabell presently found him- 
 self expressing the satisfaction he had in be- 
 coming acquainted with Leilia's friend.
 
 Ill 
 
 SIGNORINA VISCONTI held out her hand 
 very cordially, and said with a decided ac- 
 cent, "I have great pleasure." It perhaps 
 detracted somewhat from Cabell's gratifica- 
 tion in this statement, impersonal as it was, 
 that she added at once, " America is of such 
 interest to me ! " 
 
 At closer range, his impression of some- 
 thing aerially light and bright in her was 
 deepened ; and he began to observe that 
 though she carried herself with an effect of 
 superior height, she was really not very im- 
 posing of stature, but small of bone, small 
 of feature, with exquisitely modelled nostrils, 
 and eyes which were particularly notable by 
 reason of the sweet and flower-like folding 
 of the lids. He further noted the com-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 43 
 
 pressed oval in which her teeth were set as 
 she pursued, ' ' There is much I shall wish to 
 ask you. Leilia has already told me all she 
 knows ' ' 
 
 " Piccarda ! " interposed Mrs. Fanning, 
 "do not unmask me! I should like my 
 friends to think that I have grown in wis- 
 dom as well as years." 
 
 The Italian girl laughed with infectious 
 merriment. 
 
 " But why should you wish them to think 
 you wise? " she asked. " Is any one loved 
 better for knowing many things? Often I 
 am terrified or would you say terrorized ? 
 to find what American women know, what 
 they learn, what books they read ! If life 
 were not so short it would not matter ; but 
 it is only a little minute, and there is no 
 happiness for women in such things. We, 
 of my country, we know less, but we are 
 wiser, for we say always ' what does it make 
 of good?' " 
 
 " Your idioms, dear," said Leilia, mildly, 
 " are often rather involved."
 
 44 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 "You see?" Piccarda appealed to Ca- 
 bell, " you see how she would keep us from 
 remembering her ignorance ? Ah, Leilia ! 
 Is it not true that when I have asked you 
 to tell me of your broad prairies, your 
 great cataracts and caves is it not true 
 that you say always ' I know nothing ? ' 
 And when I have said, ' Describe to me, 
 cara mia, the great warriors of your country, 
 all feathered like mighty eagles and rushing 
 to battle with war-cries and tomahawks ' 
 when I have said this you answer only, ' I 
 can tell you not a word.' ' She pointed 
 her speech with continual little gestures, and 
 it seemed to Cabell that her slender fingers 
 were quite as voluble as her lips. 
 
 Into the wide bay before them, with its 
 yachts and iron-clads, a vagrant ship was 
 slinking a tramp ship, blotched over its 
 mean hulk in patches of brown paint, and 
 floating at the mast an ominous scrap of yel- 
 low. It was like a beggar carrying its rags 
 into a fashionable gathering, and the muffled 
 th robbings of the guns, swelling at intervals
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 45 
 
 upon the sea, were like murmurs of indigna- 
 tion from the exclusive craft in the port. 
 
 "This is a day of festival in Algiers," 
 Leilia remarked, as they turned to watch the 
 vagabond sail. 
 
 "Yes," said Cabell. "We thought at 
 first that all this was in honor of our arrival. 
 I've just learned, however, that it's only be- 
 cause a son is born to the Khedive. Bur 
 has been telling me. He knows all the for- 
 eign news don't you, Bur?" And he 
 turned to Leilia's little son, who, having 
 submitted to the embraces of his relatives, 
 stood hard by in a pensive attitude. Bur- 
 bridge, in spite of his mother's assertion, 
 seemed to be a very little boy indeed. He 
 had a soft, thoughtful face, and in his 
 cropped yellow hair a babyish ripple still 
 rounded, though there was a penetration 
 not quite child-like in the child's dark eyes. 
 
 "I was wondering," he said, pocketing 
 his hands in a manly and meditative fashion, 
 "if the Khedive was glad to have a son 
 born to him ? ' '
 
 46 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 " I suppose there isn't the slightest doubt 
 of it?" laughed Cabell, lifting the small 
 light figure. "You're not very heavy, 
 Bur!" 
 
 "Not very," agreed Bur, wriggling free 
 with some dignity. " Why do you think he 
 would be glad ? ' ' 
 
 "Why would any man be glad?" 
 smiled Cabell. "Why does any one want 
 a son ? to be a comfort to his age, perhaps ! 
 to take care of him when he's old and 
 helpless! " 
 
 Burbridge seemed to consider this. 
 
 " It will be very stupid for the son, 
 won't it?" he debated. "I wonder if my 
 father expects me to be a comfort ' ' 
 
 "Burbridge," interposed his mother, 
 softly, " now that we are out at sea, you 
 must have on a heavier coat. Go to Na- 
 nine, dear." 
 
 " In a minute, mamma. If he really ex- 
 pects it, I suppose I shall have to stay with 
 him and look after him and all that. But I 
 shan't like it "
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 47 
 
 "Burbridge ! " 
 
 " M'man, yes. I shan't like it if he 
 stays like he is now. He laughs so loud and 
 sits with his feet stretched out." 
 
 Leilia rose. A vivid color burned in her 
 cheeks ; but she laid her hand with admi- 
 rable gentleness on Burbridge's shoulder, 
 saying, /Perhaps I had better go with you. 
 The cabin may not be easy to find." 
 
 That afternoon a flurry of wind sprung 
 up, disturbing the passionless suavity of the 
 sea and driving from their perch along the 
 horizon a flock of small white clouds, which, 
 as they mounted the sky, obscured the sun as 
 if with a sudden spread of broad wings. A 
 shower began to wash aboard, spraying with 
 steely vapors the faces of such passengers as 
 remained in their rugs under the roofed por- 
 tion of the decks. With coat collars above 
 their ears a number of men tramped about 
 the slippery, windy walks ; but it was not an 
 enlivening pursuit, and after an hour of it 
 Cabell joined the throng in the smoking- 
 room, and, burying himself in a corner, con-
 
 48 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 tinned the train of thought which had added 
 to the discomfort of his wet ramblings. 
 
 Burbridge's stammering word of contempt 
 had brought Cabell a sharp, sudden recol- 
 lection of his friend. Fanning's dingy ware- 
 houses and dreary offices, Fanning's awk- 
 ward figure and plain face and sullen, sorrow- 
 ful air came swiftly upon his vision, set off 
 against another picture that of Leilia fair 
 and smiling, holding Burbridge against her 
 knee and pointing out to him some feature 
 of an arc of radiant sea, bright with sails and 
 flags and a multitude of little dancing skiffs. 
 
 " Haven't I decided that it is no business 
 of mine ? ' ' Cabell asked himself, angrily ; 
 but whether or not he could justify it, a per- 
 sistent resentment toward his cousin returned 
 to vex him. As he smoked on, waxing 
 more and more splenetic, he found himself 
 including Signorina Visconti in the ever- 
 widening sweep of his reprehension. Indi- 
 rectly she had part in Leilia's wilful es- 
 trangement, however inadequately Cabell 
 could define it.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 49 
 
 "I myself am mean and small enough," 
 he meditated, " to have perhaps felt an 
 added interest in this girl because of the 
 suggestion of valorous blood and by-gone 
 achievement and pride of place which in- 
 vests her. I ought not to come down too 
 hard on Leilia because she has exalted her- 
 self above the plane of home-bred virtues 
 and simple duties to bask in the sunny 
 heights of noble favor ! It seems as if I 
 might easily become something of a snob 
 myself." 
 
 This mood enabled him to feel a gloomy 
 satisfaction in declining to join a card-party 
 which Miss McClaren that evening arranged, 
 and upon which his absence appeared to 
 cast no shadow, as he observed upon glanc- 
 ing once or twice into the gay little salon. 
 The sight of his mother's mild face and soft 
 drab hair rather mitigated the severity of his 
 humor; but he stiffened again in regarding 
 Leilia's smiling face. Piccarda, it seemed, 
 had been guilty of some false move or other, 
 and every one was greatly amused. She, 
 4
 
 50 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 herself, in token of profound abasement, was 
 striking with a penitential hand the frills of 
 scarlet silk across her bosom, while her 
 bowed head cast off the radiance of the 
 bunched lights above it, and her lashes dis- 
 covered a gleam that was gay enough for 
 all their feigning of despair. Nothing, 
 indeed, seemed further from Piccarda's emo- 
 tional possibilities than sorrow ; and brood- 
 ing upon the matter, Cabell decided that 
 something akin to heartlessness must sure- 
 ly inhere in a nature so predisposed to be 
 joyful. 
 
 Yet, upon the following day he had occa- 
 sion to doubt his judgment in this particular 
 instance. It was early in the morning, and 
 he was stirring about the high, dry walks of 
 the steamer enjoying the freshness of the 
 air and the comparative solitude of the 
 decks, when, at a sudden turn, there came 
 to him voices, agitated and hurried, and 
 mixing, as he listened, with a varying sound 
 of sobs. In another step he saw Piccarda 
 leaning on the rail, speaking, evidently, with
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 51 
 
 some one in the regions of the steerage 
 some one who responded with long moans 
 and an occasional word of Italian, bitter and 
 brief. 
 
 Cabell paused uncertainly. He was about 
 to turn back, when Piccarda, as if to avoid 
 a painful vision, \theeled round and at once 
 saw him. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes 
 overflowing. There may have been sympa- 
 thy in the young man's look, for she said, 
 drawing her veil over her tearful face, "I 
 have been just now very sad oh, very ! 
 You see, it was this way : I was walking 
 about the boat for the good air, since my 
 stomach is not quite itself on shipboard; and 
 as I came to this place I heard a great weep- 
 ing. The steward was by, and I have asked 
 him what it is, where it is. He told me 
 that what he calls a Dago has died last even- 
 ing in the steerage, that they have buried 
 him at sea during the night, and that it is 
 his wife who mourns without ceasing. So I 
 have spoken with her. But her husband 
 was not a Dago ; he was an Italian, of
 
 52 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Naples, like me. Look ! that is she in the 
 black shawl." 
 
 Cabell saw, huddled together on the lower 
 deck, a woman who crouched against the 
 guard rail, staring blankly out upon the waste 
 of water, rocking herself and moaning as she 
 rocked. 
 
 " They were three years in America," ex- 
 plained Piccarda, ' ' and they had prospered 
 and were coming home to make a little shop 
 where cheeses and beans and such things are 
 sold. His illness was of the lungs." She 
 stopped to say something to the woman 
 below, who in reply lifted a voice of wild 
 lament. 
 
 Piccarda hid her own face, and when she 
 spoke again it was brokenly. 
 
 "She says she could have borne to lose 
 Guiseppe if it was the blessed God's will ; 
 but to have him cast into the deep seas with- 
 out a candle or a prayer or a touch of oil 
 that is what hurts most. And she is right," 
 cried the girl. "To die without the holy 
 wafer on one's lips ! this is to make
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 53 
 
 death a thing I die with fear only to think 
 of!" 
 
 A number of men had lounged into sight 
 below, smoking, chattering, now and again 
 offering some rough consolation to the woman 
 in the shawl, who merely thrust back their 
 words with a desperate hand, saying, over 
 and over, " finita ! finita ! " 
 
 A girl with broad gold hoops in her ears 
 just now appeared among the men, carrying 
 astride her hip a plump dark baby, who gur- 
 gled cheerfully over its fist. She set it upon 
 the floor and made a sign to the others, and 
 stood back, watching the child creep toward 
 the bowed, black figure. No one spoke as 
 the little thing, crawling swiftly, at length 
 laid hold of the knee of the weeping woman, 
 and lifted itself, and babbled, and dragged 
 the shawl from the wretched face. Then a 
 murmur of relief went through the press ; for 
 she who had refused to give ear to any, bent 
 suddenly and snatched the baby to her 
 heart, kissing it, speaking to it passionately- 
 
 Piccarda drew a great sigh.
 
 54 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 "Let us go away," she said to Cabell. 
 "It is better with her now. She has said 
 to her little one, ' Thou hast still thy mother, 
 my poor lamb ! ' "
 
 IV 
 
 TOGETHER they walked on in the face 
 of the shining sea. A little way down the 
 deck Burbridge came running toward them, 
 a slight, small figure which seemed scarcely 
 to touch the boards as it bounded along. 
 The boy flung himself on Piccarda impul- 
 sively, and then drew back and lifted his 
 midshipman's cap. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me ! " he besought, " chere 
 amie, forgive me ! It was dreadful of me 
 to rush against you like that. It is true, 
 as mamma says, that I am rough like my 
 father, really rough. I'm afraid I shall nev- 
 er be un homme comme il faut !" 
 
 Piccarda bent to speak to him. 
 
 " I love you best when you are not a 
 gentleman at all," she whispered, "but 
 only a little, little boy ! "
 
 56 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Burbridge kissed her hand loudly. Then 
 he straightened himself and cried, " Do you 
 know what I am this morning ? something 
 big ! I am put commander of the ship ! 
 the captain has just said so." And he 
 danced off like a whiff of thistle-down, 
 shouting, " All hands aft there ! allez vite ! 
 vite ! " 
 
 Something later in the day Mrs. Cabell 
 drew her son aside and said, with a certain 
 hesitation, " I need not remind you, Dick, 
 how singularly free from prejudice my mind 
 is?" 
 
 " No, mother ! " 
 
 " I feel as I have always felt toward Count 
 Orsini's compatriots. I haven't changed. 
 But Signorina Visconti is not typical ; I am 
 sure she is not ! and I have decided not to 
 mention to her my feeling toward her peo- 
 ple. I hope you, also, will refrain from 
 er from ' ' 
 
 " Giving you away ? very well." 
 
 " I shall not tell her about Anna Bedell ; " 
 concluded Mrs. Cabell. "It might pain
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 57 
 
 her to know what reasons we have for de- 
 testing the nation to which she belongs." 
 
 The nation to which Piccarda belonged 
 was even at that moment being interrogated 
 through her, as Cabell presently perceived. 
 Miss McClaren was in speech with her near 
 the doorway, and their voices carried dis- 
 tinctly to him. 
 
 "I am so anxious," Miss McClaren was 
 declaring, "to know if the sympathy of 
 the women of your country is with us in 
 our work ! Pardon me, signorina, for beg- 
 ging you to inform me on this point. It's 
 a subject of the deepest interest to me to 
 find out just how Italian women consider 
 our recent movements for the advancement 
 of the cause. Our national council, for in- 
 stance ! do they feel as we feel, that this 
 concentration of energy is profoundly im- 
 portant ? ' ' 
 
 Piccarda' s face wore a dim bewilderment. 
 "Your a national council?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 '' It is for the centralization of all work
 
 58 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 that has been or is being done by women, 
 with a view to its systematic progress," ex- 
 plained Miss McClaren. 
 
 "I did not know," admitted Piccarda, 
 evidently quite at sea, but listening with 
 that courteous sweetness which lies deep in 
 the Italian character. " They meet to- 
 gether for to make their work more pleasant 
 is that it? " she pursued. " In Italy we 
 do not, except " she interpolated, bright- 
 ening "the washer- women ! You shall 
 enjoy seeing them, all of a party, rubbing 
 the linen " 
 
 " The work I refer to is not of this sort," 
 Miss McClaren broke in, mildly. "The 
 Council is a union of many local councils, 
 all of which design to secure to women 
 greater privileges in the conduct of af- 
 fairs " she paused, observing that Piccarda 
 had now entirely lost her bearings. " Do 
 you not know," continued Miss McClaren, 
 going back to first principles, " that woman's 
 position has always been inferior, that she 
 has always been enslaved, and suppressed,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 59 
 
 and denied the privileges of an individ- 
 ual?" 
 
 " Dio mio ! " cried Piccarda, horrified. 
 "Is it indeed so in your country? I no 
 longer wonder that American women like 
 best to stay over here ! Now with us it is 
 very different. In Italy women have always 
 been loved and made much of, and allowed 
 to do any work they pleased. They have 
 been, since long ago, saints and warriors and 
 poets Caterina of Sienna, Caterina Sforza, 
 Vittoria Colonna. Of course now we make 
 no more saints, because the world grows 
 colder. And there is no need that we pro- 
 tect our homes with arms, like Caterina 
 Sforza. But we may make verses still, only 
 it is not amusing to make verses. And for 
 most women there are the husband and the 
 children, and for all women this is enough. 
 N' e vero?" 
 
 " I am not surprised that your views are 
 rather limited, signorina. Everything in 
 the past even religion itself has served to 
 narrow woman's outlook. We hope the
 
 60 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 future will change all this. Indeed, I under- 
 stand that measures are afoot in the council 
 for the revision of certain passages in our 
 Scriptures, and that we may soon have an 
 edition free from those allusions which have 
 detracted from the dignity of our sex." 
 
 Piccarda seemed at last to understand some- 
 thing. She made a furtive sign of the cross. 
 
 "Madonna Santissima ! " she breathed. 
 And Cabell saw her turn away with a move- 
 ment of the lips as if she prayed not to be 
 smitten down straightway for having given 
 ear to such a statement. 
 
 That night there was another party in the 
 little salon. As before, Cabell did not join 
 it, but remained out of doors, watching the 
 bright, southern stars wax large in the purple 
 sky. It was late in the evening when he 
 decided upon going below, and as he passed 
 the corner by the door, his eye was caught 
 by a movement in the dark depths of his 
 mother's chair. Looking more closely he 
 saw Burbridge, half dressed, nestling there 
 asleep.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 61 
 
 " What are you doing here in the night 
 air?" asked Cabell, rousing the child and 
 wrapping him in a rug. "Why, you are 
 cold ! your mother " 
 
 " Oh, she doesn't know I'm here," cried 
 Burbridge. " Nanine put me to bed and 
 went away. I couldn't sleep because there 
 was a noise in the cabin like rattling glasses 
 but I knew it wasn't glasses because I only 
 heard it when the boat was steady. So I 
 said to myself, ' It's either witches or brown- 
 ies ! ' and just then something cold blew 
 over me and I knew it was witches, and I 
 said ' Peste ! I've got to get out of here ! ' " 
 
 "Why should you think a whiff of air 
 meant witches? " 
 
 "Oh, they always breathe on you like that? 
 Did you never feel a witch ? They're cold 
 like a toad, and they love to snarl your hair 
 up with their bony fingers." 
 
 " Who told you all this, Bur ? " 
 
 " Oh, I studied it out ! now if only 
 brownies had been in the cabin I shouldn't 
 have cared. When I was small I was afraid
 
 62 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 of them, too, till I got acquainted. We're 
 firm friends now, especially me and the 
 Irishman. I made up to them by sprinkling 
 cake-crumbs for them under the table at 
 dinner. Mamma used to scold awful ! she 
 didn't understand, you see. She thought 
 I was growing careless, like papa." ^Bur- 
 bridge yawned against Cabell's shoulder. 
 " He'll be over again in May. He comes 
 every year, you know." 
 
 " That will be pleasant, won't it? " 
 
 "Well, no," confided Burbridge, "not 
 so very. Our apartment is small, you see ; 
 and papa is lots of trouble. He won't have 
 his chocolate in bed like us. He has to 
 have beefsteak cooked! for breakfast! 
 ugh ! and our maids hate the bother." 
 
 " But you take him out, don't you, to see 
 Paris?" 
 
 "Oh, I try to show him around!" 
 breathed the child, gloomily, " but I hate it, 
 rather ! his French is so queer ! and he will 
 talk to the waiters and it's very awkward for 
 them and for me ! Often I say, ' / will ex-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 63 
 
 plain to them, petit pe ! ' But he says, ' Oh, 
 I've got to practise on some one, Bur ! ' It's 
 dreadful. Every one knows he's American." 
 
 " Then you don't think it's a good thing 
 to be an American ? ' ' 
 
 Bur mused it for a moment. 
 
 " Maybe it isn't so bad if you stay in 
 America," he discriminated. " Every one 
 would be like you. Mamma says papa was 
 not half so trying over there. Listen ! did 
 you hear Piccarda laugh? don't you just 
 love Piccarda ? listen ! She is like a prin- 
 cess, isn't she ? not a real princess ! a real 
 one would be big, and white, and still. But 
 a fairy princess, with with dewdrops and 
 glow-worms " his head dropped drowsi- 
 ly on Cabell's shoulder, and Cabeli sighed 
 as he drew the rug over the small face, so 
 babyish in sleep, of Fanning's disdainful 
 little son. 
 
 On the morning of their arrival in Naples, 
 Cabeli was aroused long before daybreak by 
 wild cries of " Italia ! viva 1' Italia ! " from 
 hundreds of voices in the steerage below
 
 64 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 him. The steamer was motionless, and 
 glancing out he saw a starry expanse of sky 
 and a stretch of black water upon which a 
 wide circle of lamps cast streaks of shining 
 gold. All about, ships lay at anchor, and 
 as Cabell looked the portholes in the side of 
 one dark hull began to glow with sudden 
 light until the vessel seemed as if perforated 
 with fiery spots. 
 
 The first pallid gray of the rousing east 
 revealed, phantom-like and dim, the ancient 
 city lifting its hoar shape against the heights 
 whose old, monastic-looking pile crowns it 
 with majesty ; while, upon the vague shad- 
 ows to the right, Vesuvius, with a hint of 
 painful languor in the line of its hollow 
 crest, massed a swarthy bulk. That line 
 was like the swag of a flaccid muscle which 
 has once been strong, and which, through a 
 terrible strain, has lapsed to nothing ; and 
 the thread of smoke curling up from the 
 double summit toward the silvery torch of 
 the morning star was faint, also, and failing 
 like a last breath.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 65 
 
 At the first throb of daylight innumerable 
 little boats swung out from shore ; and pres- 
 ently after the sun was up, a raft-like float 
 filled with a clamor of mandolins and gui- 
 tars fetched alongside the steamer to com- 
 plicate with tinklings and strummings the 
 confusion of landing. Lei Ha had instructed 
 Cabell to secure for his mother a seat in the 
 first launch. 
 
 "Do not think of us," she said ; "re- 
 member we are on familiar soil ; but get 
 Aunt Virginia as soon as possible out of the 
 noise and rush. ' ' 
 
 Pursuing this advice, Cabell found him- 
 self quite early in the day convoying his 
 mother through the dingy corridors of the 
 custom offices, and consoling her as he was 
 able for the devastation which grimy, res- 
 olute hands were working in her luggage. 
 Beyond these damp, dark places opened a 
 square, full of sunshine and the shouts of 
 hawkers of many things, and numbers of 
 furry donkeys and a great stir of vehicles 
 and people. Stalls of green stuff stood here 
 5
 
 66 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and there ; priests in brown habits passed, 
 and several officers, picturesque in long 
 capes and with splendid cock-plumes falling 
 from their hats. A man whose baggy pock- 
 ets clanked with loose coppers, rushed 
 across the square and tore a feedbag from 
 the reluctant nose of a cab-horse on the 
 further curb, while he signalled the Ameri- 
 cans to await him. 
 
 Presently they were seated in the ragged 
 carrozzella, and rapidly threading a section 
 of narrow, climbing streets, so interesting 
 in their disorder and dirt and gaiety and 
 strangeness as to make Cabell regret to leave 
 them behind. For the way appeared to 
 lead into a cleaner part of the city, with 
 broad thoroughfares and a far less enticing 
 mixture of sights and sounds, a region open 
 and wholesome, but not so captivating as 
 the heart of the town, though the bay itself 
 came into immediate view, and beside it, 
 like a strip of velvet, the green luxuriance 
 of the villa extended long and bright. 
 
 The hotel, also, was a trifle disappointing
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 67 
 
 at the first sight, being a heavy pile of mod- 
 ern masonry, giving upon a small garden 
 which seemed to have got detached by ac- 
 cident from the end of the park across the 
 Piazza. But the blue of the adjacent waters, 
 all white with sails, and the apparent near- 
 ness of Vesuvius, all purple now upon the 
 radiant sky, reconciled Cabell somewhat; 
 and when Leilia, a few hours later, came to 
 inquire for the comfort of her kinsfolk, she 
 found things sufficiently well with them. 
 
 It fell out that Leilia lived only across the 
 Corso Umberto in a tall stone block not un- 
 like the hotel, but divided in a system of 
 apartments where a number of English and 
 American families maintained a travesty of 
 housekeeping. Leilia's front rooms gave 
 upon the villa ; at the side of the house a 
 line of street-cars ran, often disputing right 
 of way with herds of tawny goats, which, 
 twice a day, in a pastoral resonance of bells, 
 came to be milked at the doors of neighbor- 
 ing customers. The apartment was pretty 
 and light, with stencilled roses unfolding
 
 68 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 their petals on walls and ceilings, and with a 
 quantity of rugs and hangings in soft colors, 
 and various lacquered chairs and delf bowls 
 and sketches in red chalk. Notwithstanding 
 the cushions piled about, the presence of 
 books and papers, and the cheerful intima- 
 tions of a tea-table, gay with silver and por- 
 celain, it was not precisely home-like in the 
 little, fanciful drawing-room. 
 
 " Home-like for a woman, perhaps," re- 
 flected Cabell, upon the occasion of an 
 early visit to Leilia, "but for a man ! for 
 Fanning ! " 
 
 There could be little doubt that Fanning 
 must disarrange things greatly when he came 
 to see his wife and son, particularly if their 
 surroundings in Paris had the airy frailty of 
 this Neapolitan bower. 
 
 "You do not like my things!" said 
 Leilia, as she made tea for him. " Neither 
 does Piccarda. In spite of their native 
 light-heartedness Italians like big, dark, 
 empty rooms, which, if I had to occupy 
 them, would give me a suicidal depression.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 69 
 
 I depend a great deal on my environment, 
 don't you? " 
 
 "I don't think I do," said Cabell. 
 " Everything with me depends on how I'm 
 feeling inside. Whether or not my bosom's 
 lord sits lightly." 
 
 " Oh, yes! " murmured Leilia, lifting a 
 little bauble of a cup and sighing, "but if 
 this inner blessedness fails us I suppose there 
 is nothing for it but to console one's self by 
 making life's empty walls as pretty as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " According to one's own taste and pleas- 
 ure ? " asked Cabell, falling into this figure. 
 Leilia shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Why not ? if one's taste is better than 
 the taste of one's associates? I hope you 
 are not digging some deep ethical pit for 
 my unwary feet ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I was only wondering if superiority 
 in any sort doesn't imply obligation ! " 
 
 Leilia shook her head. "To instruct? 
 to ennoble? Perhaps. But how tiresome. 
 I haven't the evangelizing spirit, cousin ! I
 
 70 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 have too much respect for my personal dig- 
 nity and the intentions of others. It would 
 be easier and I should consider it cor- 
 recter form for me to sink and to stultify 
 myself than to try to exalt and remodel 
 others. Dick ! I hope you're not preparing 
 to persuade me that duty and mental dete- 
 rioration are ever one and the same ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, no!" he laughed. "Yet I can 
 fancy cases in which the cultivation of in- 
 tellectual fineness might be deterioration 
 most gross ! And I must go at once. 
 
 ' The sun is setting and the hour is late ! ' 
 
 Leilia, do you remember when you used to 
 sing that song long ago, in the parlor of 
 the old stone house at Nicholasville ? You 
 used to sing it to Fanning, I recall. It 
 was a favorite of his." He hummed a bar 
 or so and went on : " Once, just at dusk, I 
 glanced into the room with cousinly free- 
 dom, and saw you sitting at the piano, pen- 
 sively asking the shadows, ' Is it a dream ? * 
 while beside you Jim stood speechlessly rapt,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 71 
 
 with tears in his eyes ! Dear old chap ! Do 
 you remember ? ' ' 
 
 He paused, for Leilia had suddenly risen. 
 She was pale, and a kind of tremor touched 
 the lines of her lips. Cabell was aware of 
 holding his breath as he waited for her to 
 speak.
 
 CABELL had a pang of embarrassing dis- 
 quietude, in feeling that Leilia perhaps meant 
 to rebuke him for awakening memories which 
 he surmised had caused her something like 
 self-reproach. It was therefore with distinct 
 relief that he saw her recovering her usual 
 tranquillity, and heard her say, "Must you 
 really go ? " And he took leave of her with 
 a certain sense of awkwardness, and a dim 
 perception of being taken down in a very 
 quiet, but very effective way. 
 
 Though the atmosphere of Leilia's green- 
 and-white drawing-room never ceased to be 
 more or less disturbing to him, the panorama 
 of life outside that silken, sequestrated nook 
 was always a distraction. In a true modern 
 spirit he avoided the fresher and more im-
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 73 
 
 posing parts of the city, the new quarters of 
 the hill, and such institutions as the Galleria 
 Umberto, with its smart, commercial air, for 
 the dingy labyrinths of the old town, a nest 
 of shadowy, twisting alleys, and grimy bal- 
 conies, and dingy shrines, and swarming 
 humanity. Everything had its charm. Here 
 would be a tiny shop whose window was 
 reddened with coral ; there, one all golden 
 with tortoise-shell, or frosty with alabaster 
 and marble, or green with Pompeian re- 
 plicas, or fantastic with the gay coloring of 
 Neapolitan majolica. Strange straw things 
 from Ischia, carven woods of Sorrento, and 
 innumerable antiquities of doubtful origin 
 arrested Cabell's eye, mingling themselves 
 with the wares of the little windowless dens 
 whose doorways ran over with lumps of 
 white cheese, and bunches of red peppers, 
 and strings of bronze pigs' feet, and sacks 
 of macaroni resembling pine-shavings of dif- 
 ferent widths. 
 
 It was not the season of flowers, yet, in 
 wicker trays borne along on the heads of
 
 74 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 boys, quantities of stiff nosegays sunned 
 their pale blossoms. And often a fresh, 
 summery breath, stealing on Cabell from a 
 break in some grim, gray wall against which 
 he brushed in treading the foot-wide pave- 
 ment, would carry his glance into a gloomy 
 passage, where, over a heap of wintry roses 
 and a glazed pot of embers, a crone, with a 
 profile like a rust-eaten scythe, perhaps sat 
 drowsing in the charcoal fumes. 
 
 Everywhere were crowds of people, and 
 little knots of zampagnari, for it approached 
 Christmas-time, and sounds of bag-pipes and 
 flutes, echoing commonly in the strains of 
 " Santa Lucia," the " Home, Sweet Home,' 1 
 of Naples, blended now on all sides with the 
 cracking of whips, the rattling of hoofs, the 
 shouts of venders, and, at certain hours of 
 the day, with the wild clamors of the gior- 
 nalisti, flaunting damp news-sheets in the 
 faces of the multitude. As he wandered 
 through these holiday throngs, Cabell, in 
 spite of his interest in things, was at times 
 overcome with the obscure loneliness which
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 75 
 
 the unaccustomed traveller is likely to feel 
 with the recurrence, in unfamiliar scenes, 
 of familiar festivals. The air, indeed, was 
 sharp enough to verify his idea of mid-win- 
 ter, notwithstanding the mildness of the 
 alien sky and the resolute green of the trees, 
 which, while they did not seem to be grow- 
 ing, maintained a sort of dogged verdancy 
 in the teeth of breezes far more penetrating 
 than the Kentuckian had expected to en- 
 counter in the balmy south. 
 
 In the Toledo, passage was almost impos- 
 sible. All the cave-like shops were full to 
 the threshold, and along both footways, 
 moved, thick and slow, vehicles of many 
 kinds, from richly appointed equipages with 
 liveried attendants and pompous hackneys, 
 to ramshackle cabs and rough donkey carts 
 laden with garden stuff, on which a conta- 
 dina frequently reclined at ease, bareheaded, 
 with a scarlet handkerchief about her brown 
 throat. High and low, the people had the 
 same racial characteristics ; the human type 
 varied little. But between the horses in the
 
 76 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 pressed thoroughfare the difference was strik- 
 ing. It scarcely seemed as if the heavy 
 English horses with their fashionable knee- 
 movement, and docked tails, and taut checks 
 could belong to the same family as the little, 
 restless native steeds, checkless and blinder- 
 less, and having their noses clasped in an 
 antique gear of brass and their forelocks stif- 
 fened into tall cockades of blue or scarlet. 
 
 The fur-wrapped women in the deep vic- 
 torias appeared to Cabell of a definite like- 
 ness; peach-faced, wide- featured, brown- 
 eyed, with soft, small chins, heavy cheeks, 
 pointed foreheads and lustreless hair of black 
 or bronze. All of them seemed as if buried 
 in profound apathy, yet if one of them hap- 
 pened to speak to a companion, her voice 
 was so sharp, her gesture so alert as to con- 
 vey the notion of sudden and overpowering 
 wrath. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Caflisch's the 
 press was indescribable ; and as Cabell came 
 into this region his attention was taken by 
 the sight, in a carriage drawn up at the curb,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 77 
 
 of an old man sitting beside a young woman 
 at whom people were looking as they passed. 
 Cabell had an unexpected leaping of the 
 pulse at recognizing Piccarda, who had al- 
 ready seen him and was smiling toward him 
 in the old bright way he remembered so 
 well, while she spoke a word or two in the 
 ear of the old man beside her. This person- 
 age turned his head with a sort of slow dig- 
 nity, disclosing eyes that were shrewd as well 
 as rheumy, and a lower lip which in spite 
 of hanging loosely down, managed some- 
 how to maintain an expression of impres- 
 sive haughtiness. Piccarda leaned forward. 
 She seemed no longer the merely pretty girl 
 he had last seen in blue serge frock and knit- 
 ted cap, with the sea-wind teasing her dark 
 hair into damp spirals. She looked vastly 
 more womanly and more beautiful, perhaps 
 because the dark velvet and furs about her 
 enhanced that stateliness which had always 
 in some degree characterized her aspect de- 
 spite its charm of youth and delicacy. 
 
 "It is my uncle who wishes to know
 
 73 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 you," she said. "I have told him how un- 
 ceasingly you were how kind you unceased 
 to be ' ' She cast off a gesture of exas- 
 peration. " Oh, this English ! How do you 
 say when one is never tired to be kind ? ' ' 
 
 Signer Visconti's lip relaxed indulgently. 
 
 " My niece cared nothing to know your 
 tongue till of late years, when she has made 
 English friends. She did not lack instruc- 
 tion in her youth ; but she had never a love 
 for study." 
 
 " Ebbene ! It is not good that a woman 
 know everything," said Piccarda, tranquilly. 
 "And is Mrs. Cabell very well ? Will you 
 tell her I come soon to see if she falls in love 
 with Naples?" 
 
 The way, by this time, was something 
 freer and the carriage moved on, leaving 
 Cabell dimly sensible of a strange depres- 
 sion. He wondered why the sight of Pic- 
 carda should affect him with an inexplica- 
 ble sadness ; but though he meditated upon 
 it he was unable to make the analysis. He 
 could decide only that he wished to escape
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 79 
 
 the remembrance of her in this last sem- 
 blance of graciousness and state, and to re- 
 call, in its stead, the vision of a girl with wet 
 straying hair, and rough blue gown. 
 
 That night, in the cour d'honneur of 
 the hotel, he was able to consider, with 
 rather better heart, his encounter of the af- 
 ternoon. The cour d'honneur, which had 
 its name printed in large gilt letters over the 
 great door, was a pretty place, altogether 
 too cheerful for the furtherance of dispiriting 
 reveries. All about it, reaching clear to 
 the far glass roof, were tiers of softly lumi- 
 nous windows, with the flutter of curtains, 
 and here and there a woman's face to en- 
 liven their open spaces. From the lower 
 walls hung clusters of lights, which flung 
 silvery reflections on the marble floor, and 
 over the great clumps of palms interlacing 
 their split fronds around the enclosure. 
 Groups of bamboo chairs and tables assisted 
 in the court's summery intimations, which 
 were, however, more effectively sustained 
 by the red glow of a tall American stove.
 
 So ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Half a dozen native players in scarlet-and- 
 white trappings, were strumming mandolins 
 and tossing tambourines just opposite Cabell, 
 making the wide spaces ring with gay songs, 
 and quite drowning the voices of the peo- 
 ple who sat drinking coffee at various tables 
 hard by. Most of these talkers were unmis- 
 takably Americans, who seemed to be dis- 
 cussing their travels and the merits of the 
 world's health resorts. It appeared to Ca- 
 bell, now and again catching scraps of 
 conversation, that his countrymen in the 
 court had been many times everywhere, and 
 had found nothing anywhere altogether sat- 
 isfactory. A large part of his fellow-voyag- 
 ers had debarked at Naples, and he ob- 
 served that, while those who were from the 
 Eastern States appeared not to recognize 
 each other or to wish to keep up the ameni- 
 ties forced on them by shipboard, those 
 who lived farther west were extremely 
 given to general sociability, and met on 
 the basis of old friendship all those with 
 whom they had shared the voyage.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 81 
 
 "Do you know," asked his mother, at 
 his elbow, a picture of old fashions in her 
 puffed hair and black lace mantle, "how I 
 discovered on the steamer what section of 
 country the various passengers were from ? 
 It was by watching how they acted when 
 the band played the ' Star-Spangled Ban- 
 ner.' I found that those who applauded 
 with great enthusiasm were always from 
 the West, and that those who never ap- 
 plauded at all, but only looked rather 
 amused, belonged invariably east of Ohio. 
 As to the South of course, there were only 
 four Southerners aboard ; but really, Dick," 
 interposed Mrs. Cabell, proudly, " there is 
 no doubt that the noise they made at the 
 first note of ' Dixie ' was very creditable 
 very creditable indeed. A hundred Western 
 cheers were nothing compared with it." 
 She stopped to exchange civilities with Mr. 
 Dodd, who had strolled from a distant ta- 
 ble, holding his cigarette aside as if he were 
 tired of it, yet hesitated to throw it away 
 for fear of the vacuity which might follow.
 
 82 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 
 
 "Frightful nuisance this music," he 
 complained. "Do you know, Mr. Cabell, 
 that I have a grievance against you ? Really, 
 now, it was very unkind of you, that day 
 at Algiers, to leave me to er your friend 
 Miss McClaren. A singularly difficult per- 
 son ! She treated me in a most alarming 
 way, don't you know? I was quite used 
 up." 
 
 "It is something of a strain to follow 
 her. She is very clever," owned Mrs. Ca- 
 bell, with no intention of unkindness. 
 
 " Er yes. We came across the bay in 
 the same launch, and I had to suffer again 
 the neighborhood of her cleverness," pur- 
 sued Mr. Dodd. " I happened to mention 
 the fact that I never vote, and she fell foul 
 of me at once; said it was pitiable that 
 women should have to struggle for a privi- 
 lege which men possessed without appre- 
 ciating, and all that sort of thing ! She 
 didn't seem in the least to comprehend me 
 when I pointed out what a bother our con- 
 tinually recurring presidential elections are
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 83 
 
 forever disturbing values and creating a 
 vulgar excitement throughout the country. 
 Really a most trying young woman. From 
 Kansas, you say? really very trying. 
 Quite unlike our charming Italian friend. I 
 do not know," concluded Mr. Dodd, re- 
 lapsing into his usual weariness, '-when I 
 have seen a young lady who wore upon me 
 less." 
 
 A day or two afterward, when Cabell and 
 his mother returned from a visit to San 
 Martino, they found two cards elaborately 
 doubled at the ends and embossed over the 
 script of each with a coronet. To have thus 
 missed seeing Signor Visconti and his niece 
 gave Cabell a mingled feeling of relief and 
 disappointment. He said nothing, however, 
 but watched his mother's careful examina- 
 tion of the cards. 
 
 " No one could care less than I for petty 
 distinctions of rank," stated Mrs. Cabell, 
 finally. " If I save these cards to show to 
 Mrs. Bedell and a few others, it is merely to 
 indicate to them the sort of people we met
 
 84 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 abroad. I don't suppose that Orsini him- 
 self had anything more than a coronet on 
 his cards." 
 
 A little later in the week Cabell came in 
 one afternoon to find Piccarda sitting by his 
 mother's fire. The six green sticks, artfully 
 criss-crossed on the hearth, cast a fitful flush 
 upon her cheeks as she greeted him. Her 
 fur cape was thrown back. She had taken 
 off her plumed hat, and the waving of her 
 dark, rust-touched hair showed softly at the 
 low brows. 
 
 "You see that I make myself at home," 
 she smiled. " And did you suspect that I 
 was here, since you bring such a big bunch 
 of purple flowers ? ' ' 
 
 "Will you have them?" asked Cabell, 
 proffering the cluster, and quite forgetting, 
 through excess of pleasure, to express his 
 satisfaction in seeing her. 
 
 Piccarda shook her head, making with 
 one swift hand a backward gesture. This 
 apparently signified negation of an emphatic 
 sort, for she said, " We Neapolitans
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 85 
 
 we do not truly love flowers. Me I do 
 not like to be shut up with them in a room. 
 They make me sad. I think of the dead. 
 Of cold hands full of white, white lilies and 
 the sweet, sick blossoms of the orange- 
 tree." 
 
 " Orange - flowers are for the livihg, 
 too !" said Mrs. Cabell. " When you are a 
 bride " 
 
 "Ah, then ! " said Piccarda, staring into 
 the fire. " Then, indeed, I shall perhaps 
 have a few about me. ' ' 
 
 ' ' You are not like Miss McClaren ? You 
 do not despise marriage ? ' ' asked Mrs. 
 Cabell. 
 
 "Me?" inquired Piccarda, surprised. 
 ' ' Why should I ? Why should anyone ? ' ' 
 
 " Miss McClaren thinks it narrows 
 woman's outlook," faltered Mrs. Cabell. 
 Piccarda studied this view with deep medi- 
 tation in the lines of her eyelids. 
 
 " And is it so good that the outlook 
 should be wide?" said she. "The peaks 
 of a far-off mountain what are they to
 
 86 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 me? I love better the grass at my own 
 door-step. ' ' 
 
 This sentiment Cabell felt to be singu- 
 larly beautiful and noble, and his heart 
 stirred at it in a fashion that was first joyful, 
 and then painful. He was standing at the 
 window looking out upon the bay and the 
 riven sides of Vesuvius. The outer view, 
 however, hardly took his eye; though his 
 back was toward the room he could see, 
 much more plainly than he saw sea or sky, 
 the slight figure seated familiarly at his fire- 
 side. 
 
 " Do you know what we have planned to 
 do to-morrow ? ' ' his mother was asking. 
 "I have begged Signorina Visconti to go 
 with us to Pompeii, and she has promised. 
 With my taste for the antique it will be a 
 great experience for me. Indeed, the dream 
 of my young life will be accomplished when 
 I set foot in these by-ways of the ancient 
 world! " 
 
 Cabell expressed his gratification. 
 
 " It is particularly good in you," he said
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 87 
 
 to Piccarda. " For, of course, it's all an 
 old story to you." 
 
 "Oh, I have not been so often! " she 
 admitted. " I do not care much for how 
 they lived twenty centuries ago. But I am 
 glad to be going with you. It shall amuse 
 me to see you pick scraps of mosaic from 
 the floors and hide them in your pockets ! ' ' 
 
 " I shall get you to pick them up, so that 
 they may remind me of something nearer 
 and pleasanter than the time of Augustus," 
 Cabell suggested. 
 
 "Oh, very well!" agreed Piccarda. 
 "Stealing for a friend that makes not 
 much of a sin! n'e vero?" And she 
 added, becoming unexpectedly grave, " I 
 am glad you have asked me to go with you 
 to-morrow. Later later I might not be 
 able to to find the time. ' '
 
 VI 
 
 THAT night, when Cabell went to see if 
 Leilia cared to accompany them upon the 
 projected excursion, he found Burbridge ly- 
 ing among the green silk cushions of the 
 divan, large-eyed and feverish. 
 
 " His throat is wrong again," explained 
 Leilia, putting down the book from which 
 she had been reading aloud the story of a 
 certain mongoose. "Naples has been un- 
 usually cold. I am afraid I should have 
 gone to Egypt or the Riviera. Pompeii ? 
 No, Dick. I had better not think of it. 
 And since Piccarda is to be one of the par- 
 ty I am not afraid of being missed." She 
 added, presently, " I am not altogether glad 
 that Piccarda is going with you." 
 
 Cabell started.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 89 
 
 "I myself am particularly glad," he ex- 
 claimed. Leilia looked at him, folding her 
 hands in the lap of her long shining gown. 
 She did not speak as she regarded him, 
 smiling a little in a musing way which pro- 
 voked him. 
 
 "I hope," he protested, flushing, "that 
 you do not think me quite a fool ? I do 
 not pretend to extraordinary capacity, but 
 I believe I might be able to drive ducks to 
 water if any one should intrust me with the 
 mission." 
 
 " I should think you quite hopelessly un- 
 intelligent," said Leilia, continuing to smile, 
 "if you could be indifferent to Piccarda." 
 She changed the subject, and shortly after- 
 ward Cabell, pacing through the lamp-lighted 
 expanse of the Piazza, had a growing con- 
 viction that Leilia had actually presumed to 
 administer to him a word of friendly warn- 
 ing. It made him rather resentful to think 
 that his cousin should entirely fail to per- 
 ceive the delicate difference between a sen- 
 timent purely ideal and one of a more com-
 
 90 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 mon and active nature ; and as he stood 
 looking at the arc of starry gold cast by the 
 lamps of the Via Caracciolo upon the dark 
 waters beyond the sea curb, he laughed with 
 amused disgust to think that he should be 
 presenting to Leilia, or to any one, the pa- 
 thetic pageant of a bleeding heart. 
 
 The next day, however, was a day of such 
 exceeding clearness that Cabell forgot, in 
 the persuasive brightness of the skies, every- 
 thing except the beauty and strangeness of 
 the green old fields beyond the city, and the 
 beauty and strangeness of Piccarda's presence 
 beside him in the coach. The bay kept fol- 
 lowing them on the right, blue and shoaling 
 into frothy white as it reproduced the azure 
 of the sky and the airy foam of the count- 
 less little clouds. Low tracts of furrow- 
 fluted soil reached from the sea, disclosing 
 ancient well-sweeps here and there, and 
 rough stucco houses with a white cross 
 rudely daubed above the doors, and groves 
 of olive-trees, twisted and silvery, and firs, 
 so stripped of foliage that only a dark disk
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 91 
 
 balanced on the summits of the slender 
 trunks. The dense, small towns they passed, 
 built often on the eaves of towns forgotten, 
 were low piles of solid-looking yellow stone, 
 with sometimes a graceful arch above a 
 niche of portico, which ran over in green 
 vines, or in golden fringes of drying spa- 
 ghetti. Nothing new and spruce rose any- 
 where in sight along the aged country-side, 
 until the train stopped at Pompeii itself, and 
 the roof of the modern little station came 
 in view. 
 
 Beyond it, through a frail lattice of winter 
 trees, the hoar and crumbling ruins showed 
 themselves above a high green bank, facing 
 the vaporous crests of distant purple hills, at 
 the feet of which, like sown pearls, houses 
 and hamlets glistened white and far. The 
 sea was a reach of sapphire winged with 
 swelling lateen sails. Rising from it, the 
 dark bulk of Vesuvius had a look of menace 
 under the downward trend of a current of 
 smoke which had almost obscured the deli- 
 cate zigzag line of roadway marking the
 
 92 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 brown steep as with a braiding of silver. 
 Two inns stared sleepily between the sta- 
 tion and the walls of Pompeii. In the 
 sunken fields below the road, cotton was 
 growing, and in the road itself two coun- 
 trymen in donkey-carts chatted idly. A 
 dark-faced baby slept among the vegetables 
 in one of the wagons ; behind it tramped 
 a woman whose black head was bound 
 in dusky yellow, and whose coppery heels 
 shone bare in her backless slippers. 
 
 " The old life and the new come close 
 together here," said Piccarda. "Things 
 do not much alter. Those who lived yon- 
 der were as wise as we." 
 
 " Oh, my dear! " demurred Mrs. Cabell. 
 ' ' They did not know about the planets mov- 
 ing and the attraction of matter ! ' ' 
 
 "And such civilizing influences as gun- 
 powder and the printing - press weren't 
 thought of ! " laughed Cabell. 
 
 "So much the better for them," main- 
 tained Piccarda, lightly, " if there were 
 fewer things to know."
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 93 
 
 They had come to the small lodge at the 
 gates, beyond which the road rises in deep, 
 vine-clad banks. At the turn of this way 
 Piccarda stopped, with a pointing hand. 
 
 ''Behold!" she cried, "we are at the 
 gate of the sea ! Look, now, Mrs. Cabell ! 
 you stand on the very stones with Caesar." 
 
 Mrs. Cabell looked about, trembling. 
 Her fair old face wore a mute, exalted ex- 
 pression as she passed below the heavy gray 
 arch, and entered the narrow upward walk 
 between whose immemorial stones globules 
 of green moss oozed fresh and bright. 
 
 "I am greatly moved," said Mrs. Cabell, 
 pausing. " Perhaps this is the very road 
 by which Glaucus escaped ? what a solemn 
 thought ! or Nydia ? stifled with smoke 
 and ashes ! To a nature as sensitive as 
 mine, recollection of these things is over- 
 whelming. ' ' Piccarda took her thin hand 
 gently. 
 
 " They would anyway be dead long ago 
 Glaucus and the other one. Oh, long 
 ago ! " she whispered, consolingly. " Do
 
 94 ONE OF THE VISCONT1 
 
 not grieve : for after all they have escaped 
 did you not say so ? " 
 
 They had come into a region of roofless 
 walls, and broken pillars, and straight, nar- 
 row causeways, gray, pallid, silent, worn by 
 the ages to a peculiar suavity of line and 
 tone. Upon one side a great court, set with 
 fragmentary columns, and carpeted with the 
 diaphanous moss which also veiled the outer 
 walks, ranged open to the soft sky. In places 
 among the shattered pillars a fallen capital 
 kept still the exquisite chiselling of a laurel 
 bough, a wide-lipped mask, or drooping 
 garland of thick-strung roses; and these, 
 too, were gray leaf, face, and flower like 
 the ruinous walls, with the mournful gray- 
 ness of lichens which clothe old wood. 
 
 Everywhere streets, narrow as the narrow- 
 est cross-streets of Naples, struck from the 
 long vacancy of the forum, crossing each 
 other with the simple regularity of avenues 
 in a new western town. Foot-high curbs 
 lifted the straight walks, and near the cor- 
 ners were square stepping-stones, and occa-
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 95 
 
 sionally a drinking-fountain, decorated with 
 the head of a god, whose mouth still widened 
 for the issue of the stream which had ceased 
 flowing thence when the world was young. 
 
 In the stone ridge of one of these basins, 
 Piccarda pointed out the hollow, worn away 
 by the hands of those who long ago leaned 
 there to drink. 
 
 "So!" she explained, with her own 
 hand in the hollow, and with her bright, 
 warm cheek against the stone cheek of the 
 god. " Fancy me the daughter of the man 
 who keeps the wine-shop yonder where 
 those amphorae stand in a row ! I tire of 
 Falernian. I come to drink of water. See 
 me ? See my long white stola, my heaps 
 of little curls ? ' ' She laughed lightly 
 and lifted a finger, saying: "Hush! I 
 drink no more ; I stand back ; I have heard 
 the approach of a band of lictors. Look ! 
 they make way for a magistrate ! In a 
 little moment he will be in sight, and you 
 shall see how his garments are purple, his 
 head bound with bay. I even I, who see
 
 96 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 all this daily I am scared at the sight of 
 his gold sceptre with its sign of the sacred 
 bird ! ' ' She retreated a step or so, feigning 
 awe, with a hand upon her heart, with her 
 blue, dark eyes upon an unseen procession 
 coming in soundless, sandalled paces along 
 the chariot-rutted street. Though her figure 
 was so modern of outline and attire, yet, in 
 the delicate aquiline precision of her listen- 
 ing profile, for once untouched by smiles, 
 some hint of Roman pride, and austerity, 
 and steadfastness revealed itself to Cabell's 
 perceptions as he watched the little play of 
 times foredone. 
 
 " Basta ! basta ! " cried Piccarda, coming 
 gayly to herself again and leading the way 
 through the remnant of a noble house, with 
 certain streaks of deep red and brilliant yellow 
 still glorifying its broken walls, to a temple 
 over whose fluted columns and crumbling 
 altars of sacrifice a heavenly azure hung like 
 a canopy of silk. Here was a ponderous 
 basement on which once stood the lovely 
 shape of Venus ; and there, among the peb-
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 97 
 
 bles, and mosses, and dull rapilli, were other 
 broken marbles, wrought in oak-wreaths 
 and laurels, in charming arabesques, in heads 
 of sacrificial rams, filletted and garlanded ; 
 while beyond an adjacent threshold, a 
 glancing mosaic, white and black and tur- 
 quoise, spread an imperishable sheen, lustrous 
 still, though sunken and depleted. 
 
 " But do not stop here," besought Pic- 
 carda, observing Cabell lose himself in the 
 massy sculpture of a lintel hard by. " What 
 is best to see I have saved till now. Listen ! 
 do you hear a noise of voices? of spades? 
 Come ! I shall show you something." 
 
 A low hill rose near, and they began the 
 ascent ; but even before they had got them- 
 selves to the brow of the rise Cabell drew 
 up with an exclamation. Just ahead, and a 
 little way below the surface of the road, the 
 excavation of a splendid house was in prog- 
 ress, and the sudden sight of its rising walls, 
 and frescoed arches, and slight and heavy 
 columns and pilasters, struck the eye with a 
 strange, illusory effect. Two officers of the 
 7
 
 98 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 government were in charge of the operations, 
 which seemed as if being executed by a 
 number of swarthy, barefooted boys in red 
 caps. Some of these, kneeling, filled their 
 flat baskets with handfuls of the dark, moist 
 soil, which, like banks of iron filings, ruddy 
 and coarse of grain, piled itself against the 
 half-uncovered walls. Others, in a slowly 
 moving procession, like a row of figures on 
 an antique frieze, each bearing a laden 
 wicker tray upon his head, wended up a low 
 hillside, on the summit of which stood a flat 
 car heaped with earth. 
 
 In his first glance Cabell saw a row of 
 massive pillars bearing up a cornice fes- 
 tooned with flaring flowers of deep brown and 
 traced with airy spirals and floating scrolls of 
 black. To the right, three walls of a large 
 room, brilliant with color, sprung from the 
 dust, fresh as if the painter's brush-strokes 
 had not yet dried in the lovely vermilion 
 and amber. Rippling streamers and clus- 
 tered blossoms bordered the glowing spaces ; 
 and as momently the curtain of darkness
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 99 
 
 and oblivion fell away, here and there a 
 panel unfolded some vivid picture of faun 
 and nymph, of the child Bacchus laughing 
 through his viny curls, of little loves rioting 
 in a wind of roses, of Silenus drawn drunken 
 in a troop of dryads, of Pan, piping to him- 
 self in a sylvan solitude. Broken and 
 patched with new cement along the edges, 
 one portion of a wall bore upon a black 
 ground, sombre and dull, the slight, exquisite 
 figure of a dancing girl, half-veiled in misty 
 blue, and poised in an attitude of incom- 
 parable grace. Adjoining it the panel was 
 frayed into mere strips of color, interspersed 
 with long splashes of mortar ; here the slen- 
 der, girlish shape was almost lost, showing 
 only the arch of a springing foot, the curve 
 of a light ankle, the flowing end of a gar- 
 ment rosy and vaporous as the dawn. 
 
 Constantly the rich red earth yielded up 
 signs and symbols of another time. Two 
 slim pillars, white as snow and twisted 
 round with laurel, grew taller under the 
 watchers' eyes. Little vases of copper,
 
 ioo ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 blotched with blue, coins of the old world, 
 a bronze strigile, a metal hand-mirror, an- 
 cient crystals, thin and iridescent, a silver 
 armlet, trinkets of blackened ivory such 
 things as these, turned up by the boys' 
 hands in the crumbling soil, lay in a pile 
 upon a block of tufa. 
 
 The bright, dry green of the small bronzes 
 seemed to give the color-note to the soft 
 valleys and sunny hillsides stretching every- 
 where in sight. The sky hung low and 
 mild. The sea lay near, a bland sheet of 
 waveless blue. Whoever had builded this 
 dwelling that now rendered its bright page 
 to curious modern inspection, had probably 
 selected his site with regard to the beauty 
 of the broad Campanian Bay, sweeping its 
 shining waters through the fruitful lowlands 
 below the Roman town. 
 
 "He was fortunate," mused Cabell, "to 
 be able to command such an outlook." 
 
 "It is beautiful enough," replied Pic- 
 carda, gravely. "And yet perhaps he 
 was not so happy as you think. A fine
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 101 
 
 view ! does that make happiness ? Suppose 
 he had not health or friends that loved 
 him ? To be always joyful is it so com- 
 mon in these days? Perhaps in other days 
 people have been quite as discontented. 
 Look how your mother fills her pocket 
 with pebbles ! The human does not so 
 much change. What you feel, he felt, too 
 he that fastened his toga or tunic with 
 that fibula they have just dug out ! " 
 
 " Then you do not think we are particu- 
 larly happy in this generation ? ' ' asked Ca- 
 bell, leaning on the wall which kept visitors 
 from intruding upon the excavations. Pic- 
 carda looked at him, seeming to study, in 
 a far, impersonal way, the keen lines and 
 dark tints of his questioning face. 
 
 " We think too much," she said, finally, 
 with a sagacious air. "How can anyone 
 be happy so ? Me just lately I made myself 
 very sad by thinking day and night upon 
 something which it was my duty to do, and 
 which I did not quite wish to do. When I 
 went with Lei Ha to Algiers there were two
 
 102 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 nights that I lay awake, studying over this 
 thing. And, at last, I said to myself, ' Eh, 
 Dio ! you are not a man, a philosopher, a 
 deep, wise being, made for these reasonings ! 
 You are a woman, only a woman, whom 
 the blessed Lord meant should never trou- 
 ble herself with much hard thought. Strive 
 no more. Do the thing that seems right 
 and be at peace.' And at once my heart 
 felt at ease again ; it is always so when one 
 decides to yield to what is just and good." 
 
 Cabell had nothing to oppose to this 
 highly correct moral sentiment, and his 
 attention was, moreover, partly engrossed 
 by the approach of three men, who, as 
 they sauntered up the hill, spoke together 
 in voluble Italian, laughing a little, as if 
 at some passing jest. Two of them were 
 officers of the army, imposing in the hand- 
 some uniform of Italy. The third, a dark 
 young man of rather striking and authorita- 
 tive presence, was dressed in the English 
 mode, but wore his black mustache turned 
 disdainfully upward at the ends after the
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 103 
 
 military fashion of the country. They had 
 quite reached the line of the excavations 
 before Piccarda turned; and as she did 
 so, and perceived them, Cabell was sur- 
 prised to see her start, though in an 
 almost imperceptible way, while a faint 
 color swept her cheeks. She inclined her 
 head with an air of friendliness to the 
 strangers, who, as she went on down the 
 hilly walk with Cabell and his mother, 
 stood bareheaded, in attitudes of profound- 
 est courtesy. Something in the gaze of the 
 man who wore civilian's attire struck Cabell 
 disagreeably ; and that little unaccountable 
 flush of Piccarda's also troubled his reflec- 
 tions. When they came into the level 
 streets below the knoll, and he glanced fur- 
 tively at Piccarda to see if she bore still any 
 slight aspect of confusion, he was not reas- 
 sured to find her abstracted and a little pale. 
 As he looked she paused and, with an air 
 of weariness, laid her hand upon an ashen 
 pile of ancient concrete hard by. 
 
 "I meant," she said, rather slowly and
 
 104 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 absently, " to take you up to the town wall 
 so that you might have a glimpse of the 
 Street of the Tombs, and the mountains of 
 Castellammare and the plain where the old 
 Oscan graves are. But I have begun to be 
 very very tired. Perhaps we had better walk 
 no farther."
 
 VII 
 
 IN the days following their little journey to 
 the old Campanian town, and Cabell's rec- 
 ognition of the fact that, after all, his sen- 
 timent toward Signer Visconti's niece was 
 less abstract than he had fancied, the young 
 man found himself with a great sufficiency of 
 time for dwelling upon every phase of the 
 subject. 
 
 The weather had changed. Cold, dis- 
 piriting drizzles set in, and more than once 
 a ghostly fall of snow shrouded the bay in a 
 silvery mist, and whirled in a greenish veil 
 around the tall palms of the national gardens. 
 
 People sat all day in the court of the hotel, 
 rattling newspapers, writing letters, com- 
 plaining of the climate. Very few were left, 
 however, to commiserate one another on the
 
 106 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 lack of sunshine, for the first cloud had 
 brought about a general flitting, and of the 
 faces Cabell had grown familiar with on 
 ship-board, only Mr. Dodd's remained. 
 
 " The weather," remarked Mr. Dodd, one 
 morning along in January, " is, of course, 
 damnable. I don't mind it myself, for I 
 have grown accustomed to being in places 
 always a little out of season. At such times 
 the climate is usually terrible ; but one avoids 
 Americans, don't you know." 
 
 " If Miss McClaren could hear this patri- 
 otic sentiment ' ' 
 
 "Thank God she cannot!" ejaculated 
 Mr. Dodd, laying nervously hold of his 
 beard. " Did I tell you that I met her yes- 
 terday on one of Gaze's boats? Yes. We 
 got on quite peaceably till she mentioned 
 that she would shortly leave for Rome, and 
 I suggested that she would find it more en- 
 joyable a little later, when the king and 
 queen ride out daily. I said it was charm- 
 ing to see the queen who is really a very 
 interesting person, don't you know lean
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 107 
 
 forward, and smile, and bow to the people. 
 She does it in a singularly fetching way ! 
 And I added a word of regret that America 
 lacked, as yet, all these pretty pomps and 
 ceremonies. I assure you that she de- 
 nounced me. Ah ! Pardon me. ' ' He drew 
 away. A small boy in buttons had ap- 
 proached with a note, which, as Cabell 
 glanced over its contents, informed him 
 that Leilia wished to see him as soon as 
 might be. 
 
 It was with a certain alarm that he crossed 
 the Corso and mounted to her apartment ; 
 nor was he reassured, upon entering, to see, 
 in the middle of the tiny reception room, a 
 professional looking man, who, as he drew 
 on his gloves, seemed to be speaking to Leilia 
 in a consolatory way. 
 
 " I should say that there is no necessity 
 for any apprehension er at present," he 
 repeated. "You will find him quite com- 
 fortable in an hour or so." And he inclined 
 himself politely to Leilia, who leaned against 
 the mantel, with her hand over her eyes.
 
 io8 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 As the curtains fell upon him Leilia lifted 
 a tearful face to Cabell. 
 
 " Oh ! " she murmured, " Bur has been so 
 ill ! for awhile he seemed as if he could 
 not breathe a sudden attack." She mo- 
 tioned him to follow her, and led the way 
 into a little white room beyond, in which 
 a maid in a frilled cap was stirring, and 
 Bur lay among his pillows, feverish and 
 talkative. 
 
 " Qui est-ce?" he cried. Recognizing 
 Cabell he held out a hot small hand. " But 
 I am ashamed ! " he sighed, "to be ill like 
 a baby. Ah ! ah ! ah ! que je suis enfant ! 
 It is awkward, awkward. M'man is right. 
 I shall never, never be un homme comme il 
 faut ! " There was a heavy drowsiness in 
 his tone as he murmured on in a lisping 
 mixture of tongues ; and presently, still 
 holding Cabell's hand tightly in his dry 
 fingers, he fell asleep. Leilia gave a breath 
 of relief. 
 
 "He is certainly better," she said. 
 " The doctor was right. Oh, what a blessed,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 109 
 
 blessed thing to see him resting so quietly ! " 
 She threw herself into a chair as if exhausted, 
 adding: " I wish Aunt Virginia would come 
 over. She would know if he is really im- 
 proving; but I feared you would not be 
 pleased if I sent for her so early in the day. 
 May she come, Dick ? And there is another 
 thing you can do for me if you want to be 
 kind to a woman who has been up all night 
 and is quite worn out with anxiety. Pic- 
 carda and I were going somewhere at eleven 
 o'clock. Send some one to explain why I 
 cannot stop for her as we had arranged. I 
 can't write. Do it for me, Dick ! or if you 
 are going down town, as we say at home, 
 stop a moment at the Palazzo and tell her 
 yourself how troubled I have been." 
 " Certainly. If you will direct me." 
 " What ! you do not know the house? " 
 " No," said Cabell, setting a half- whim- 
 sical glance on the fire in remembering 
 Leilia's word of caution, " I have stu- 
 diously avoided looking for it. You can 
 see that it would only have added to my
 
 no ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 discomfort to go and stand in the shadow 
 of the palace where she lives. Every stone 
 of those splendid walls would symbolize for 
 me the countless barriers existing between 
 a beautiful, high-born lady, sprung from a 
 line of crusaders, and cardinals, and such, 
 and an obscure young barrister with an in- 
 considerable income. No. I haven't sought 
 out the Palazzo." 
 
 " Bah ! " smiled Leilia, faintly. " I un- 
 derstand that in Kentucky you are con- 
 sidered a person of promise. They will 
 probably send you to Congress. ' ' 
 
 " I have no aspirations in that line," 
 Cabell said, rising, " though I remember 
 setting off an anvil and going mad in a boy- 
 ish ecstasy of triumph some years since, 
 when a Kentuckian was elected Speaker of 
 the House. For myself, however, I've 
 planned out a life quiet and contemplative 
 the secluded violet sort of thing, you 
 know which appeals so strongly to the 
 stricken heart ! Like the early singers of 
 this damp, deceptive land, like Cavalcanti,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI in 
 
 and Cino da Pistoia, and the lover of Bea- 
 trice, I shall cherish an ideal, a sovereign 
 mistress, a right high and holy lady ' ' 
 
 "Dick! how you go on! and I really 
 thought that perhaps you but it isn't worth 
 discussing. Do you see what time it is ? 
 nearly eleven." 
 
 When Cabell came into the street which 
 Leilia had indicated as the whereabouts of 
 the Palazzo Visconti, he was taken aback, 
 in spite of her description of the neighbor- 
 hood, to find along the curb which rimmed 
 the bay a collection of market carts and 
 vegetable stalls. A swarm of buyers and 
 sellers, voluble and excited, harangued each 
 other over piles of salad stuff and pans of 
 cracking chestnuts ; children ran every- 
 where under foot, blending their shrill out- 
 cries with the plaints of donkeys, the shouts 
 of tradesmen and the shrill fluting of a man, 
 who, with his legs criss-crossed to the knees 
 in strips of red cotton, stood surrounded 
 by idlers across from the sea-verge. After 
 some moments of inspection, Cabell came to
 
 112 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 the conclusion that the wide stone archway 
 against the pilaster, of which the musician 
 supported himself, must belong to the Pa- 
 lazzo Visconti. The walls of the place 
 looked certainly quite as ancient as he had 
 figured them, being rough and massive 
 enough for a stronghold of the Middle Ages. 
 Indeed, as he glanced up, he half expected 
 to see windows like the narrow outlooks of 
 a fortification peering grimly down upon 
 him from the rocky facade; instead of 
 this, however, he was confronted with noth- 
 ing more formidable than several rows of 
 faded green shutters, hanging, some of them 
 a little awry ; while upon each side of the 
 pile of gray old masonry, rickety struct- 
 ures of pink stucco reared their dilapitated 
 shapes, strung from window to window with 
 a ragged wash or two, and having an oc- 
 casional tuft of cotton in the place of a 
 broken pane. 
 
 For all the meanness of its neighbors, the 
 old palace was not without dignity ; its 
 gateway was broad and heavy, and beyond
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 113 
 
 it a deep passage led into a flagged, dark 
 court, around which Cabell could see other 
 ponderous walls and lines of sunken panes. 
 Many of the paving-stones were broken or 
 tipped out of- plumb, and in the hollows 
 stood pools of water around which the vis- 
 itor had to pick his way in approaching the 
 great stone staircase on the right. In the 
 embrasure of these steps a man in faded 
 overalls was grooming a horse. He paused 
 in his occupation, and, bent half over, with 
 a dripping sponge in his hand, lifted an in- 
 quiring old face which Cabell recognized as 
 that of the personage usually occupying in 
 dove-colored livery the box of the Visconti 
 equipage. 
 
 This functionary of the house put down 
 his sponge, wiped his hands on his hips, and 
 taking Cabell's card between two rheumatic 
 fingers, motioned him to follow. 
 
 Up the time-worn steps they went slowly. 
 From the open roof above a streak of capri- 
 cious sunshine fell down upon the hoar inner 
 walls, picking out flecks of greenish gold
 
 114 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 along the baluster, and a variety of colors in 
 the patched garments of Cabell's convoy. 
 At the first landing a passage opened upon a 
 little stone room like a cell, in which a desk 
 stood, and through the single open window 
 of which stole the fresh odors of a cavernous 
 garden, all terraced with mossy slabs and 
 growing with unkempt grass and a clump of 
 orange-trees. Deep in the jungle of dark, 
 damp green, springing with its stalks of 
 golden fruit, Cabell, left by himself in the 
 ante-room, saw a dry, lichen-padded fountain 
 base, in the middle of which stood a mar- 
 ble cupid, cracked and yellow, with a sheaf 
 of time-blunted arrows across his dusky, 
 dimpled shoulder. From the smile of this 
 mossgrown love, Cabell was recalled by the 
 footsteps of the servant, who ushered him 
 into a vast apartment hung with dim, faded 
 tapestries, and commanding through the 
 loopings of its heavy curtains little glimpses 
 of the bay, shot with the white sails of innu- 
 merable fisherboats. 
 
 Contrasted with these narrow slips of sky
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 115 
 
 and sea, the gloom of the interior, with its 
 few massive chairs and isolated central divan, 
 was at first so intense as scarcely to permit 
 the figures in the lofty ceilings to disclose 
 their outlines. It was only after a moment 
 that the vague mixtures of dull reds and 
 blues overhead and along the walls began to 
 show here a lifted face, there a prayerful 
 hand, everywhere a slowly wakening life. 
 In the lessening darkness Cabell was becom- 
 ing aware that a lady with a pretty heart- 
 shaped face, pearl-threaded hair, and an 
 astonishing ruff was regarding him from a 
 frame of gold ribbons just opposite, when 
 the curtains of the door stirred a little and 
 Piccarda came in, smiling, extending her 
 hand, startling the shadows, waking the 
 silence. 
 
 When, however, she heard what Cabell 
 had to say the light left her face. She laid 
 her palms suddenly together, and said, " But 
 I ought not to feel surprised. I have felt 
 it would be so with the little one with 
 Bur. He will not get well." And as
 
 Il6 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Cabell began gently to expostulate, she went 
 on, saying, " I know, I know how it will be ! 
 I have read it all in the face of the doctor 
 at Algiers. He said little, only a nod, a 
 look. Leilia would not understand. Me 
 I have understood that it is too long 
 that Bur's throat is weak. It is no longer 
 only a weak throat. Oh, poor little child ! " 
 There fell a sorrowful sort of silence. 
 
 " Then/' murmured Cabell, strangely im- 
 pressed, " Fanning has got to know about 
 it." He had not realized that he spoke 
 aloud till he met Piccarda's eyes fixed upon 
 him in a kind of comprehending and sym- 
 pathetic way. Her lips moved. 
 "Yes ... but ..." 
 " I know," breathed Cabell, seeing that 
 in her mind also there struggled some misty 
 sense that Fanning's coming would mean any- 
 thing but comfort and support to the wom- 
 an over whom this shadow seemed to hang. 
 Piccarda leaned forward, supporting her chin 
 in a thoughtful hand, and staring through 
 the shadowy space with troubled eyes.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 117 
 
 " I can see nothing plainly any more," 
 she said, almost sharply. "Everything 
 baffles, baffles ! and not so long ago things 
 seemed clear enough." She tossed off a sig- 
 nificant gesture. " Perhaps Leilia needs 
 him more than she suspects now that her 
 skies are fair. In time of storm then a 
 woman must always feel how weak a thing 
 God has made her. He must come to her 
 Mr. Fanning." 
 
 Cabell rose. " Yes," he agreed, simply ; 
 but his mind dwelt on Fanning's right to 
 hear of the sorrow which menaced his house, 
 rather than upon anything so doubtful as 
 Leila's need of her husband, whatever might 
 befall. 
 
 On his way home he sent Fanning a 
 message. He knew that there was a certain 
 degree of officiousness in this proceeding, 
 but he felt himself quite justified until a day 
 or so after, when Leilia showed him Fan- 
 ning's reply to the cablegram. 
 
 " He will sail on the first steamer, you 
 see," said Leilia, quietly. " I suppose you
 
 n8 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 felt that you were quite right in taking such 
 a step without consulting me? " 
 
 Cabell looked at Burbridge sitting in the 
 sunshine of the window, with his sketch-book 
 open on his slim black legs. The boy was a 
 little pale, but there was about him no sign 
 of illness more alarming than his lack of 
 color, and Cabell recognized his own posi- 
 tion as somewhat embarrassing. 
 
 " My interference seems very questiona- 
 ble," he admitted. " But I felt that if any- 
 thing happened " 
 
 ' ' Happen ? what should happen ? ' ' 
 
 " Weren't you a little nervous yourself? " 
 
 "I am a foolish woman," said Leilia, 
 coldly. " If you can save Jim this voyage, 
 it will perhaps be well. He would be vexed 
 to find he had left his affairs for nothing. ' ' 
 
 Bur looked up. 
 
 "Is papa coming?" he asked, in an 
 aghast sort of voice. " Oh, goodness ! I 
 thought we only had to have him in summer. 
 To have him in winter, too ! That will be 
 a double dose. ' '
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 119 
 
 Cabell got up with a darkening brow. 
 
 " I shall try to prevent his coming," he 
 said, coldly. 
 
 In spite of his indignation and the worry 
 of trying to reach Fanning with a second 
 message, he was strangely sensible of an un- 
 dercurrent of happiness. He did not know 
 how immediately it arose from his perception 
 that Piccarda lived in far less splendor than 
 he had figured ; he only felt it an unaccount- 
 able joy to remember the pools in the dark 
 old court, the broken stairway, and tangled 
 garden, and solitary retainer in mended 
 cottons. Upon these remnants of past 
 greatness he found himself rearing a fairy 
 fabric whose pinnacles, day by day, rose in 
 added clearness and beauty. His visionings 
 were helped by frequent sights of Piccarda ; 
 she came often to sit awhile with Mrs. Ca- 
 bell, and these little visits, made usually in 
 Cabell's absence, seemed to him to leave 
 a sweet and haunting presence in the un- 
 homelike rooms of the hotel. It was 
 hardly necessary that Mrs. Cabell should
 
 120 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 say, " Piccarda has been here." Cabell felt 
 that the very air told him if she had lately 
 breathed it. 
 
 One day, Mrs. Cabell, having made this 
 announcement, added, " Shall you mind 
 going to the Palazzo Visconti on Friday ? 
 Piccarda wants us. She said her uncle would 
 be seeing a few of his old friends, and that 
 he hoped to have us join them. I prom- 
 ised. I know you wouldn't mind." 
 
 " Mind ! " cried Cabell, with an uplifted 
 look which caused his mother to regard him 
 with slowly dawning comprehension, as he 
 threw himself in a chair and began to lose 
 himself again in a world of aged walls, and 
 glowing orange-shoots, and sunken steps and 
 crumbling eaves. 
 
 But in point of fact, when their carriage 
 drew up in the wide court on the night of 
 the little gathering, Cabell had a sensation 
 of surprise at the brightness of the place, 
 whose gray dilapidation had so strongly im- 
 pressed him. All the flags were dry now, and 
 trimly swept ; lights mellowed the rows of in-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 121 
 
 ner windows ; a length of gay carpeting hid 
 the hollowed steps of the grand stairway, and 
 swept a reach of crimson through the land- 
 ing between rows of palms, curiously banked 
 about, like a child's garden, with big conch- 
 shells. These, set fantastically on end, 
 seemed to be pointing alert pink ears in sus- 
 picion of footsteps. Over them, shedding 
 iridescent lustre from the rosy enamel of 
 their lining, a great Venetian lantern, 
 wrought of twisted iron and thick dull glass, 
 spent rays of emerald and violet and red. 
 
 " I thought the evening was to be very 
 informal)" palpitated Mrs. Cabell, rejoining 
 her son at the door of the room in which 
 she had left her wrappings. " But there are 
 flowers everywhere, and I hear a great many 
 voices. I fear my black silk gown may look 
 rather plain." 
 
 A sound of light laughter and a confused 
 murmur of voices broke upon them as the 
 door ahead swung open in the hand of a dig- 
 nified attendant, who seemed to be the same 
 man Cabell had seen swabbing the chestnut's
 
 122 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 legs upon his earlier visit to the Palazzo. 
 The large space beyond was lighted with 
 bunches of wax-tapers, whose mild radiance 
 flickered upon the dark hangings of the walls, 
 the cloudy heights of the pictured ceil- 
 ings, and a mingling of people who seemed 
 for the greater part well past middle life. A 
 few girls seated upon the central divan, 
 topped at present with a tropic greenness of 
 palms, were surrounded by several young 
 officers slight, dark men, such as Cabell 
 saw daily riding in the bridleways of the 
 Villa or drilling squads of countrymen in 
 the open places of the city. Signor'Visconti 
 stood near the door, complacent and impres- 
 sive, with an order upon his breast repre- 
 senting a kneeling angel who bore aloft a 
 lily. He bent deferentially over an aged 
 lady, whose white hair and parchment throat 
 were strung with jewels quaintly set in some 
 pale, silvery metal. Several lean, brown 
 gentlemen, with stars and ribbons on their 
 lapels, and with tightly waxed gray or white 
 mustaches, were moving about ; but Cabell, as
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 123 
 
 he entered was aware only of a starry range 
 of candles, and an uncertain background of 
 dull tapestries, and faded canvases, and gilt 
 scrolls, and scattered flowers, upon which no 
 single individuality was at all definite until 
 Piccarda stepped forward from a little group. 
 She was dressed in some soft fabric of 
 deep red, and whether or not it was by con- 
 trast with the richness of the crimson, her 
 face looked pale in its framing of dark hair ; 
 yet as she spoke to him, Cabell's heart rose, 
 for there was a little tremor in her voice, and 
 her eyes did not meet his with their usual 
 frankness. Though he would have chosen to 
 stand indefinitely before her, he found him- 
 self presently talking with Signer Visconti, 
 being presented to an amiable young woman 
 in white muslin, to a pretty, well-stayed girl 
 of the ordinary peach-faced type, to old 
 ladies in snuffy brocades, with antique gems 
 on their bony fingers, to officers whose gold 
 trimmings glittered as they bowed, and 
 finally to a small, dry kernel of a man, whom 
 Signer Visconti addressed as Prince. Cabell,
 
 124 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 while he replied to this gentleman's ques- 
 tions concerning the American gold-fields, 
 watched Piccarda's crimson - robed figure 
 moving from group to group. He had just 
 observed, with a kind of rapt contentment, 
 that she was leaning above his mother with 
 some word which had brought a certain 
 gravity to both faces, when the door swung 
 back, admitting the dark, authoritative young 
 man with whom Piccarda had spoken at 
 Pompeii, at the base of the excavations. 
 
 This personage wore to-night a white 
 flower in his coat, and his small, black, con- 
 temptuous mustache was turned up in the 
 fashion which Cabell had noted before as 
 admirably comporting with the young man's 
 general air. A little uncomfortably, he saw 
 the new-comer approach Piccarda and lift 
 her hand to his lips ; he saw, too, that her 
 eyes fell, and the sight of the white, averted 
 cheek and drooping profile made his senses 
 whirl. Through the maddening confusion 
 of his mind he presently remarked that the 
 prince was looking at him rather question-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 125 
 
 ingly, as if he had been asking about some- 
 thing, and was rather surprised at his com- 
 panion's protracted silence. 
 
 " I was speaking," said the prince, ami- 
 ably, " of Orsini's good fortune. You 
 know him? " And at Cabell's negation he 
 explained, "It is he who had just entered. 
 Conte Orsini, of Rome. His wife, I re- 
 member was a countrywoman of yours 
 oh, beautiful ! very beautiful ! but like the 
 
 marbles of the Greeks, a little, a trifle " 
 
 he paused, seeking an epithet, which he 
 finally decided to express by means of a 
 gesture conveying the idea of weight. 
 
 "Altogether without the grace, the life, 
 the charm of the Signorina. Eh, Dio ! She 
 is enchanting, but yes ! " 
 
 Cabell had started. A flashing memory 
 of Anna Bedell struck upon him. For an 
 instant her mild, beneficent beauty, all dust 
 now and forever perished, reshaped itself 
 before him. This, then, was the count ; 
 he who had tortured that soft, unsagacious 
 heart, laughed at its anguish and broken it,
 
 126 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and who now, in the flower of his manhood, 
 untouched with years or memories, stood 
 looking ardently down on Piccarda's face. 
 
 " Orsini has been for a year a most de- 
 termined suitor to the Signorina," smiled 
 the prince, fingering his fob and observ- 
 ing the girls in the neighborhood of the 
 divan. " She has required time to con- 
 sider, I am told. It seems a little hard to 
 understand why. Of course, we all know 
 that the Visconti, though of illustrious 
 lineage, are not less poor than the rest 
 of us, which," laughed the prince, " is 
 saying little ! The Orsini are decidedly 
 younger, but the Conte has estates, besides 
 much money from his late wife. He is a 
 parti, oh, very decidedly ! and he has not 
 been without his successes in life by any 
 means ! " He gurgled out a small appre- 
 ciative laugh, still regarding the girlish 
 throng under the palm, and failing to see 
 that Cabell's thin dark face had been chang- 
 ing as he listened. 
 
 "You spoke just now of the count's
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 127 
 
 good fortune," Cabell began, in a restrained 
 kind of voice. 
 
 "Yes," said the prince, preparing to 
 cross the room, " yes, oh, yes. You know 
 do you not ? that Visconti to-night virtu- 
 ally announces the betrothal of his niece to 
 Orsini ? no ? I supposed it was generally 
 understood. ' '
 
 VIII 
 
 As they rode homeward through the dark 
 streets, Mrs. Cabell, in spite of her desire to 
 talk over the matters of the evening, did not 
 venture to infringe upon her son's resolute 
 silence. She felt even a little awe when a 
 passing lamp revealed the cold abstraction 
 of his face; and turning hastily away she 
 set her gaze upon the Villa, through the 
 shadowy length of which a white colonnade 
 sped dim and ghostly. 
 
 The next morning, as they sat together 
 after breakfast, Mrs. Cabell said, rather unex- 
 pectedly, "I'm sure that Piccarda doesn't 
 know about the count. ' ' 
 
 "Know about him?" repeated Cabell, 
 in a tone of question. He looked worn, 
 and he did not raise his eyes in speaking,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 129 
 
 but leaned over the fire operating a pair of 
 useless little bellows. 
 
 "She doesn't know the kind of man he 
 is. Oh, I thought I should faint last night 
 when the old lady who sat next me the 
 Marchesa something or other told me 
 about the engagement ! I have dwelt upon 
 it ever since, with all the force of my natu- 
 rally strong character, and I have concluded 
 that I must talk to Piccarda. I I have 
 grown very fond of Piccarda. I cannot sit 
 by with folded hands and see her marry a 
 wicked, cruel " 
 
 "Mother ! " broke in Cabell, tossing the 
 bellows aside. " Don't think of interfering 
 in this, I beg ! We are not her natural 
 guardians. Signor Visconti certainly knows 
 quite as much as we concerning Count 
 Orsini. This betrothal is a carefully con- 
 sidered family affair, and as for for Sig- 
 norina Visconti, I am told that she has not 
 accepted the count without due delibera- 
 tion. It is a marriage that will insure her 
 what most people most care for in life. ' ' 
 9
 
 130 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 "It will insure her what she is too sim- 
 ple - hearted and true to care for at all ! " 
 quavered Mrs. Cabell. 
 
 " Well," said Cabell, turning slowly from 
 the fire, which had now gone out in a whirl 
 of smoke, "are you sure, since she seems 
 to you without these ambitions, that she is 
 not marrying him simply because she loves 
 him?" 
 
 " Loves him ! a man who has such pro- 
 pensities? Who has led such a life? " 
 
 Cabell laughed a not altogether cheerful 
 laugh. "When men are loved for their 
 virtues, social conditions will have largely 
 changed," he remarked. "Besides, mother, 
 we ought to give this particular man his 
 due. Perhaps he isn't such a fiend as you 
 fancy. ' ' 
 
 "Dick! when I have seen Mrs. Bedell 
 cry by fhe hour ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes. But Anna was an only daugh- 
 ter, and her death greatly unsettled her 
 mother. I won't maintain that the count was 
 an ideal husband, according to our simple and
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 131 
 
 primitive standards ; but according to the 
 standards of a higher civilization than ours, 
 perhaps he was a model of such virtues as 
 are expedient and fashionable. At any rate, 
 whatever the count was and is, you may be 
 sure that Piccarda that Signorina Viscon- 
 ti's uncle knows about it, and that he be- 
 lieves this marriage to be for her happi- 
 ness. And there can be little doubt that Or- 
 sini loves Piccarda disinterestedly enough." 
 He interrupted himself and rose. " Don't 
 worry over it." And as he kissed her 
 troubled forehead, he added : "I am going 
 out now to walk. Suppose you pay a little 
 visit to Leilia and see why she was not at 
 the Palazzo last night? " 
 
 The day was very bright, insomuch that 
 the Swiss concierge standing in the doorway, 
 with the sun glittering upon the crossed keys 
 of his collar, remarked its beauty. 
 
 "This afternoon will see much of car- 
 riages along the Corso," said he to Cabell. 
 " All the great people will be out, and a 
 fine show of splendid horses, and footmen,
 
 132 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and rich trimmings. And, as always, some 
 guests of our house, they will say to me, 
 ' My God ! what a wealthy city this will 
 be ! what liveries, what coronets upon the 
 panels, what luxury ! ' ; The concierge 
 paused to pull down a corner of one eye. 
 "Bah! it is poor, poor, poor this place. 
 There is no money. There is nothing. 
 Once it was all good country and much 
 things grew, and there was not such taxes 
 and so many soldiers to keep up ; but now, 
 long since, the nobles they must starve and 
 pinch if they keep their carriage. And they 
 eat of cheese-parings before they will walk. 
 Bah ! in my country we can work. But 
 noble people cannot work ; they can only 
 starve." 
 
 Cabell wandered through the park oppo- 
 site, and watched without interest the drill- 
 ing of a squad of heavy young peasants, 
 with simple, honest faces and exceedingly 
 thick ankles, which looked the thicker for 
 the yellow leggings casing them. The noise 
 and gaiety of the streets oppressed him, and
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 133 
 
 he finally got into one of the little cars 
 which mount the rise behind the city, and 
 take their way through a cold upper realm 
 of decent cleanliness and prosperous re- 
 spectability. Here was stillness enough, and 
 rows of blank-faced villas, and numbers of 
 large hotels that stared pompously down at 
 the city below, with its press of irregular 
 roofs and sea- washed rim. A young woman 
 who entered the car at one of the upper sta- 
 tions, looked at Cabell, smiling. It was 
 Miss McClaren with a sketch-book in her 
 hands ; and taking a seat near Cabell, she 
 said : " How are you enjoying Naples ? " 
 
 Cabell roused himself to a reply, and Miss 
 McClaren said that, for her own part, she 
 feared that she should never get away. 
 
 " I find a perfect mine of information in 
 the Pompeian frescoes," she pursued. " The 
 whole sentiment toward woman in that day 
 is faithfully rendered in these decorations. 
 I have been greatly surprised to find that in 
 those far-off times she was rather highly 
 respected. Do you want to look over my
 
 134 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 
 
 sketches? I think it not improbable that I 
 may next winter deliver a course of lectures 
 under the administration of the national 
 council. If I choose ancient Italy for my 
 subject, these little drawings, you see, will 
 be of great use. ' ' At this point she began 
 to laugh, as if something of an amusing 
 nature had suddenly recurred to her. 
 
 " Do you remember," she broke out, " my 
 efforts to project some idea of the council 
 upon the mediaeval darkness of Signorina 
 Visconti's mind? She crossed herself, you 
 know, and said, ' Mother of God ! ' when 
 I mentioned the possibility of a revised bi- 
 ble. What a proper little soul she was, with 
 her conservative notions and small, trustful 
 piety ! As unprogressive as as ' ' 
 
 " As a rose ! " smiled Cabell 
 
 " Well, yes. For she was a charming 
 creature in spite of her density. By the by, 
 there is a bronze bust in the Museum, quite 
 near the Narcissus, that looks amazingly 
 like Signorina Visconti. Perhaps you've 
 seen it ? No ? You'll find it set down in
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 135 
 
 the guide-book as a bust of a lady, proba- 
 bly a member of the family of the Emperor 
 Claudius." 
 
 As the car stopped in the neighborhood 
 of the Museum, and Miss McClaren rose, 
 Cabell said, "Take me with you ! I haven't 
 a thing in the world to do." 
 
 " Don't expect me to waste my valuable 
 time in amusing you ! " laughed Miss Mc- 
 Claren. 
 
 " Why ? To keep a man contented, isn't 
 that quite as noble a work as to try to con- 
 vince women that they ought to be discon- 
 tented?" 
 
 " A glorious discontent is the way to 
 heaven," she quoted, still smiling. " Prog- 
 ress and satisfaction are altogether incom- 
 patible. But see here ! I refuse to be led 
 into an argument. I know beforehand what 
 your points would be. Instead of carrying 
 your batteries, I shall show you the bronze 
 bust." And she gave him a luminous 
 glance. 
 
 They went through the great, damp court
 
 136 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and came presently to the corner where, upon 
 its stone column, rests the presentment of the 
 lady who was one of the house of Claudius. 
 Through a doorway one might see the slight, 
 rapt figure of the Narcissus, poised in an at- 
 titude of eternal listening, tranced of eye 
 and lip, with grape-vines in his ringed hair 
 and a goat-skin on his supple shoulder. But 
 Cabell did not see the Narcissus, for the 
 lady of the house of Claudius had captured 
 him with her faint smile. 
 
 "Isn't it like her?" asked Miss Mc- 
 Claren. 
 
 "Yes," replied Cabell, quite unconscious 
 of the depth of his tone and the fixity of 
 his gaze. " It's very like." 
 
 " I shall leave you to study it," she said. 
 " My love to Mrs. Cabell, and good-by." 
 
 He returned to his observance of the dark, 
 delicate profile. The lightness of the sil- 
 vered eyes, the compression of the little 
 chin, the very line of lip and eyelid re- 
 minded him so strangely of Piccarda, that 
 he felt glad to be rid of Miss McClaren's
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 137 
 
 penetrating glance. He could see Piccarda 
 again as he had seen her on the stone land- 
 ing at Algiers, with the little knit cap on 
 her ruffled hair; or on shipboard, bending 
 pitifully above her poor countrywoman ; or 
 beautiful and stately beside her uncle in the 
 Christmas multitude of the Via di Roma; 
 or watching a spectral clan of lictors advanc- 
 ing in the streets of the old Oscan town. 
 Most vividly of all he saw her, " gowned in 
 goodly crimson," standing with white and 
 downcast face before her betrothed in the 
 taper-starred dimness of the long drawing- 
 rooms of her uncle's house. There was bit- 
 terness in the last picture; and he turned 
 from the portrait bust with a contraction of 
 the heart, feeling that not even the earlier 
 of his memories of Piccarda were any longer 
 sweet to dwell upon. Whether or not she 
 loved the young Roman, his dark, disdain- 
 ful presence shadowed now, and must al- 
 ways shadow, Cabell's thoughts of her. 
 
 He went back through the great halls, 
 passing with empty vision the old frescoes,
 
 138 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 and inscriptions, and archaic marbles. 
 Scarcely a footstep beside his own woke the 
 vaulted silence. Sometimes a guard, muf- 
 fled in his coat-collar, looked up from a 
 brazier or scaldino ; sometimes an artist 
 glanced from his copy at the solitary fores- 
 tier, rambling dull-eyed through the vacant 
 ways. As Cabell approached the Hall of the 
 Flora a sound of voices took his ear ; and 
 crossing aaother threshold he saw, standing 
 over the mosaic of the battle of Alexander, 
 a man and woman engaged in the lively ar- 
 gument whose echoes had already reached 
 him. 
 
 ' ' I regret that I cannot pretend to agree 
 with you, " the woman, who seemed to be 
 Miss McClaren, was saying. There was a 
 camel' s-hair brush behind one ear, and a 
 streak of India ink along one cheek ; but she 
 held her head very haughtily indeed, as she 
 repeated, " I have only been away from my 
 native land a short time, and I have still a 
 germ of patriotism in my breast." 
 
 "I'm sure," rose Mr. Dodd's nerveless
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 139 
 
 tones, " that I cannot recall what I have 
 said to elicit er so much warmth. I 
 intended merely to suggest, apropos of this 
 animated battle-scene, that another war in 
 America would do much to reduce her com- 
 merce, and thereby free her from the rank 
 spirit of trade which degrades her at present. 
 I said only that if some one would arise 
 among us, and declare himself emperor, and 
 overthrow the state, our poor, lumbering, 
 ignorant land might er " 
 
 " Get beaten into shape." 
 
 " Er I don't think I used just that ex- 
 pression." 
 
 " We need not discuss it ah, Mr. Cabell ! 
 You haven't stolen anything from the room 
 of the bronzes? It really wouldn't be safe, 
 you know. To leave Italy with a veritable 
 antique would be almost as difficult as to 
 enter Italy with a package of cigarettes. " 
 
 "I have the honor," said Mr. Dodd, 
 stiffly raising his hat, " to wish you good- 
 day." 
 
 "Are you going? au revoir, then, for
 
 140 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 we are sure to meet again. It's strange, 
 Mr. Cabell, how Mr. Dodd and I are always 
 running across each other ! " 
 
 "It seems," reflected Mr. Dodd, gloomily, 
 "like fate." 
 
 "Fate is usually cruel," responded his 
 antagonist, with a dawning smile. Cabell 
 stopped a moment to inspect her wash-draw- 
 ing of the Flora's gigantic but charming 
 head, and presently rejoined Mr. Dodd in 
 the outer court. 
 
 "In the excitement of the moment I 
 quite forgot to express my sympathy with 
 you," said Mr. Dodd, as they walked on. 
 " I was rather surprised to see you here ; 
 but I suppose you felt it necessary to get 
 away from the confusion that always ac- 
 companies these sad events. Really a very 
 distressing thing ! A bright child, quite a 
 bright child ! I understand that his death 
 was alarmingly sudden." 
 
 " Of whom do you speak? " asked Ca- 
 bell, stopping short. Mr. Dodd stopped 
 also, looking bewildered.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 141 
 
 " Why, of Mrs. Fanning's little boy," he 
 specified. " As I left the hotel just now the 
 concierge told me of it. I believe he said 
 it happened only in the last hour. Can it 
 be that you had not heard ? ' ' 
 
 Cabell went straight to Leilia's dwelling. 
 His mother met him at the door and drew 
 him into the small ante-room out of the 
 way of the weeping, excited maids. 
 
 " I was here when it happened," ex- 
 plained Mrs. Cabell, sobbing. " Leilia and 
 I were sitting together, and she was telling 
 me that Bur had passed another trying 
 night, but was better. And I had asked 
 her if she knew of Piccarda's betrothal to 
 the man who had been Anna Bedell's hus- 
 band ; and she said she knew of it. I said, 
 ' Does Piccarda know what kind of person 
 he is ? ' Said she, ' Piccarda must know that 
 he is a man of the world.' Then I cried 
 out, ' Leilia, that is putting it mildly. His 
 morals are bad ! ' ' But his manners are 
 good ! ' said she. And she went on to say 
 that Piccarda was fond of the count's little
 
 142 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 boy, and while she might not be foolishly 
 infatuated with the count himself, she doubt- 
 lessly found him agreeable enough. Leilia 
 added that she considered it a very good 
 marriage for Piccarda, and that she had done 
 all she could to further it. I was looking at 
 her in horror. I'm an old-fashioned woman, 
 Dick, and in spite of my really acute pene- 
 tration, there are some things I cannot see 
 through. I was looking at her, as I say, in 
 horror, when we heard a cry, and Nanine ran 
 into the room, throwing her hands up, gasp- 
 ing, moaning. It seems she had gone to put 
 a coverlet on Bur, and found him breathing 
 
 strangely. It was all over in a minute " 
 
 " Poor little chap ! and Leilia? " 
 
 " She? oh, she takes it dreadfully. Pic- 
 carda is with her now they sent for her at 
 once. Hark ! was that the door-bell ? ' ' 
 
 Nanine was passing along the hallway, 
 and they heard in an instant the sound of 
 the latch, an exclamation, and the tones of a 
 man's voice. Cabell started and rose ; for 
 the voice in the hallway was Fanning' s.
 
 IX 
 
 IT had rained all night, and the city was 
 washed to dull gray, with occasional hints 
 of terra-cotta in its rising circles. Vesu- 
 vius was mantled in a crinkled sheet of 
 snow which, melting into a strip of white 
 sky, drew the summits up to indefinite 
 heights. Out in the bay a heavy surge 
 tossed against the breakwater, flinging a 
 smoky white far back upon the heaving deep 
 green. The Castello dell' Ovo to-day had 
 all the deep tones of newly wrought bronze. 
 Over its riven brown walls the sea tossed in 
 a passion of foam, seeming to contribute a 
 tremulous movement to the stern old pile. 
 
 The coldness of the storm - washed sky 
 gave everything a dreary aspect ; its forlorn 
 shadows reached even to the room where
 
 144 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Leilia lay staring at the rose-scattered ceil- 
 ing, as she had lain, staring, ever since Bur 
 died, the day before. She did not speak 
 or look up at the sound of a rap on the 
 door. A voice outside said, softly, " It's I 
 Piccarda." Then Leilia turned her head 
 a trifle, murmuring, " Come in." 
 
 Piccarda entered. She came and leaned 
 over the bed, touching Leilia's hair, saying, 
 " Cara mia ! O cara mia ! it is hard for 
 you. And who shall try just yet to comfort 
 you ? I will not attempt it, Leilia. I have 
 only come to tell you that there is some one 
 here who bears the burden with you. He 
 came yesterday. He has not wished to 
 break in upon your grief, but now I have 
 told him that it is best for you to see him 
 that he must come ' ' 
 
 Leilia flung up a sudden hand. Her eyes 
 held an aghast interrogation. But Pic- 
 carda, half way across the room, did not 
 look around nor stop ; and as she closed 
 the door behind her Leilia fell back trem- 
 bling, with the wide sleeve of her gown over
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 145 
 
 her eyes. Shortly after there was a step on 
 the threshold. Fanning, with one hand 
 pocketed, stood there, glancing about the 
 unfamiliar prettiness of his wife's room, and 
 at his wife herself, lying with covered eyes 
 and averted face. His hair was rough, his 
 attire careless as usual ; even his expression 
 preserved the composure common to it ; and 
 as Leilia looked up at length half fearfully, 
 and caught this air of unconcern, which, 
 instead of sorrow, or rebuke, or anger 
 marked his bearing, something stung her 
 sharply. For a moment they observed 
 each other. Then, almost hoarsely, she 
 broke out: "You can look like that ? so 
 indifferent? I've thought of many things 
 you might say and do when you should 
 learn what has happened. But I need not 
 have concerned myself, it appears. You are 
 cold, hard. Oh, my little one ! my boy ! 
 my baby ! he lies in his grave clothes, 
 and you you, his father ! you can stand 
 here without a tear unmoved, tranquil ! " 
 In the gray light Fanning's face seemed 
 
 10
 
 146 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 to shake, and a sudden fire flashed in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Tranquil?" he repeated. "Yes, I'm 
 tranquil enough ! why shouldn't I be? Has 
 anything happened that I'm not very well 
 used to ? Has anything new occurred to me ? 
 not Bur's death, surely. Death's an old 
 thing to me. I've met its face often enough, 
 God knows, not to be startled by it. I've 
 lived in company with it for months, years. 
 Haven't I seen your love for me die, and 
 Bur's love, too ? Haven't I seen all my hopes 
 perish, one by one? Haven't I lived in the 
 dust of vanished joys, trying to hide from the 
 world what I knew so bitterly well myself 
 that I had a wife who scorned me, a son who 
 despised me ? Work as I might, all my 
 efforts only put it in the power of these two 
 to raise themselves higher and higher above 
 me God ! what am I talking about ? Tran- 
 quil, am I ? Well, there was a time when 
 I was anything else ! when I cared, cared ! 
 when your cold letters, your half-tolerant 
 greetings, your relieved farewells went into
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 147 
 
 my heart like iron ; when his little babyish 
 contempt and scoffing flayed me, tore me. 
 But I've got over it all. Men who suffer 
 much get seared finally. It must be so ; for 
 I certainly don't feel now as a man should 
 feel whose son lies dead." 
 
 His glance had left Leilia, had wandered 
 off to the distant, darkening sky, the shad- 
 owy palm tops of the Villa, the ominous 
 reach of sea. The stern set of his rugged 
 features, the half-bitter, half-indifferent lift 
 of his chin, even the resolution of his step 
 as he paced once or twice across the room, 
 impressed Leilia with a sort of awe. 
 
 " I didn't know you really cared," she 
 faltered. "I didn't think I didn't sus- 
 pect ' ' 
 
 "Oh, well," he said, not unkindly, 
 "don't bother over the matter. I'm sur- 
 prised that I should speak as hotly as I did. 
 What does it all matter ? Good-night, Leilia. 
 Perhaps I'd better send some one to light 
 your candles." He shut the door, and in 
 a moment she heard him talking over some
 
 1 48 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 ordinary topic with Cabell in an adjoin- 
 ing room. 
 
 Cabell himself, in these days and those 
 that followed, was considerably bewildered 
 at the bearing of his old friend. Once, two 
 or three weeks after Bur's death, Fanning, 
 in turning over the child's sketch-book, said 
 to Cabell: " He was always a clever little 
 fellow ! ' ' He made this remark in a casual 
 sort of way, holding a sheet up that he might 
 better scrutinize the hull and stacks of a won- 
 derful ship in red and green chalk. 
 
 "Look at that crow's nest in the mast ! 
 Isn't it well put in, Dick ? " 
 
 "Yes," agreed Cabell, turning about 
 with a sharpness in the throat, and wondering 
 that Fanning should be able to handle the 
 childish drawings in so unmoved a fashion. 
 
 "You are singularly resigned to to all 
 this, Jim! " he said, in spite of himself. 
 Fanning regarded him with a gaze distant 
 and gentle. 
 
 "I lost him so long ago, you see," he 
 said, simply.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 149 
 
 Cabell came daily to the apartment which, 
 for all the greater number of people that 
 were now in it, had grown so empty and 
 sad. Fanning was generally in the ante- 
 room smoking by himself. Piccarda also 
 spent much of her time in the desolated 
 place, and though Cabell saw little of her, 
 yet the sense of her nearness gave his visits 
 to Fanning a precious quality. Often he 
 could hear her speaking, and once, when 
 the sound of her voice had held him in the 
 middle of a sentence, he came to himself to 
 find Fanning's eyes fixed perceptively upon 
 him. 
 
 "I, too, have been in Arcady," smiled 
 Fanning. Cabell turned off his feelings in 
 a laughing remark, which, reaching Leilia's 
 ear in the room beyond, made her wince. 
 
 She sat listlessly by the window, pale and 
 still. " How heartless men are," she said, 
 wearily. 
 
 " Because one laughs a little, that is not a 
 sign of heartlessness," protested Piccarda, 
 who was mending a scrap of lace in a cir-
 
 150 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 cular frame. "Mr. Cabell, I have seen 
 tears in his eyes not so long ago. But a 
 man cannot always have his eyes with tears 
 in them." 
 
 " I thought it was Mr. Fanning who 
 laughed." 
 
 " No. His voice is deeper, but not so 
 full. But even if it had been he ! life 
 must go on, Leilia, in spite of of " 
 
 "Must it? for me it seems to have 
 stopped, in every vital sense. At least, 
 everything but the pain of it. And the 
 pain of it, of missing my darling, grows 
 daily greater instead of daily less. But I 
 must not go on like this ! I must not spoil 
 the sunshine for you, Piccarda, who are 
 young and happy ! " 
 
 Piccarda lifted an absent gaze above her 
 darning frame. 
 
 "Me?" she said; and recovering her- 
 self, she added, a little confusedly, " of 
 course ; oh, of course, I am very happy ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes, Piccarda. You have everything in 
 the world that counts for blessedness. When
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 151 
 
 you marry and go away to live in Rome, 
 dear, I shall feel unutterably alone. I hope 
 you will remember your poor friend, and 
 come sometimes to see her, wherever she 
 may be. I do not know where I shall 
 live." 
 
 Piccarda held her needle with an out- 
 stretched thread. "Live! You you are 
 not thinking, then, of going home with 
 Mr. Fanning ? ' ' 
 
 Leilia's sunken eyes surveyed the dis- 
 tance. " No, Piccarda. It would not be 
 very agreeable for me to go where I am 
 
 not " She faltered and flushed. "Mr. 
 
 Fanning said yesterday that the only advis- 
 able thing for me to do, was to stay abroad. 
 He was good enough to add that wherever I 
 care to go he will take me. I ventured to 
 suggest that to return to America might be 
 best for me. But he did not agree with 
 me. He he said such an idea was 
 absurd." She looked vacantly down upon 
 her folded hands, and Piccarda, watching 
 her, drew a sharp breath.
 
 152 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 One morning something later, as Pic- 
 carda sat beside the hearth in Leilia's 
 drawing-room arranging a lapful of pink 
 roses in a great delft vase, Fanning's large 
 figure appeared in the doorway. He held 
 the shimmering hangings awkwardly back, 
 and set his eyes in a kind of troubled ap- 
 peal upon the bright face bending over the 
 flowery heap. He had in his hand an 
 official-looking letter, and while he excused 
 himself for interrupting Piccarda he turned 
 the sheet, and fumbled it, and finally broke 
 out, in a disturbed way: "You see this, 
 Signorina? It's a business letter they've 
 just sent it up from Turner's by the hand- 
 some little fellow in green livery ; and it 
 makes my return urgent, very urgent." 
 
 " We shall be most sorry to lose you," 
 said Piccarda, biting off a little green twig. 
 ' ' Oh, most sorry ! ' ' 
 
 " No doubt," commented Fanning, rather 
 grimly. " But I wasn't so much thinking 
 of the^devastation my departure will cause 
 as of the fact that I ought to go at once.
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 153 
 
 Now it's like this: I don't want to hurry 
 Mrs. Fanning in any way ; but I don't think 
 she ought to remain in Naples. I in fact 
 I don't know just where she means to go ; 
 but wherever it is I'd like to see her settled 
 before I leave. And I thought if you, Sig- 
 norina, who are so kind to us, would add to 
 your kindness by by asking her, you know, 
 about this why " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " nodded Piccarda. " But " 
 after an instant of thought and with a 
 little air of pleading " I am greatly busy, 
 as you see while you you have only to 
 smoke, is it not true? Now, while I fix 
 these beasts of roses all claws as they are 
 you might go to Leilia's room, and ask for 
 yourself. My English is not to be trusted. 
 I might mix things up." 
 
 Fanning laughed. " But you see, Signor- 
 ina " 
 
 ' ' You have only to tap at the door, ' ' 
 signified Piccarda, lost in a green-and-pink 
 tangle. 
 
 So Fanning rather uncertainly turned
 
 154 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 away, and went down the hall, and rapped. 
 Leilia, as he entered the room, glanced up 
 with an effect of surprise. She looked thin 
 and wan in the unfavoring glare of the 
 Italian sun, which, burnishing the brightness 
 of her light hair, gave her face a yellowish, 
 wasted appearance. When Fanning, with- 
 out seating himself, related the matter he 
 had in hand, his wife, keeping her eyes 
 upon the floor, said, simply, " Do not think 
 of me." 
 
 ' ' I must see you settled comfortably be- 
 fore I go." 
 
 " I shall not be very comfortable wher- 
 ever I am." 
 
 " No. I suppose not. That was not the 
 word to use. But I needn't remind you 
 that graceful tact was never just in my line. 
 You know what I meant to say, Leilia. 
 That I want to leave you where I can feel 
 you are measurably content. There isn't 
 much I can do to to mitigate your trial, 
 but whatever I can do, I want to do." 
 
 He flung himself into a chair, and took
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 155 
 
 out his letter, and began to ponder over it 
 with knitted brows. Leilia had risen ; she 
 stood for a moment looking out into the 
 greenness of the park ; then she crossed the 
 room, and paused near Fanning, and said, 
 "Jim?" 
 
 Fanning lifted a surprised glance, but 
 Leilia did not heed it. She drew a little 
 nearer. "Jim, there is something I want 
 to say. I have never tried to make you 
 happy ' ' 
 
 Oh, well ! I 
 
 "I did not marry you without loving 
 you some, but it was not enough " 
 
 "Leilia, is it worth while to bring up 
 these things? " 
 
 * Jim, listen. I've lived as I pleased, 
 and where I pleased. Perhaps I thought at 
 first that it was really for Bur's sake ; but 
 I've known for a long time that it was prin- 
 cipally for my own. I liked it over here 
 where life is smoother than it is with us. I 
 loved to study and dream among the beau- 
 tiful things of the world. I wanted to grow
 
 156 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 upward to my fullest reach. And no doubt, 
 from a point of pure intelligence, I have not 
 fallen short. But I am a very miserable 
 woman, Jim, for I have begun to see what 
 a poor thing a mean and sordid heart is, 
 however it may be cloaked in pretty refine- 
 ments. ' ' 
 
 "You're nervous, Leilia! or something. 
 Don't be so hard on yourself." 
 
 " Hard ? me, who have left you so long 
 with neither wife, child, nor home? Oh, 
 it's all true, Jim ! You know it well enough. 
 Remember what you said to me the the day 
 after you came ! For everything you've 
 missed, suffered, or or sinned even, I am 
 to blame. God's put it all to my account. 
 And most of all I think He means to charge 
 me with the change which my selfishness 
 has worked in you, Jim ! you, who used to 
 be so warm, so easily touched, and who are 
 now so hard and indifferent." 
 
 " Am I so hard and indifferent? " 
 
 "To me, at least, you are both. Oh, I 
 know very well that you don't care the
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTJ 157 
 
 smallest trifle for me any more ! I am not 
 so utterly foolish as to complain of it, though 
 I am weak enough to feel that ix would be a 
 comfort to me now if you loved me even a 
 little. And the least atom of regard, if I 
 could depend on it in you, would make it 
 easier for me to ask what I am going to 
 ask." 
 
 " Leilia ! Good heavens ! you are mak- 
 ing this thing infernally hard for both of us. 
 Don't you know me well enough to be cer- 
 tain that anything you ask " 
 
 "Will be granted? Suppose I should 
 beg you not to leave me here alone ? Sup- 
 pose I should implore you to take me home 
 with you ? " 
 
 " Home? but " 
 
 " Jim, I am still your wife, though I've 
 been so unworthy a one. Listen ! I'm 
 frank with you ! I don't ask you to take 
 me back upon any assertion that any new, 
 astonishing love for you has overwhelmed 
 me. But because we belong to each other. 
 Because I feel that in all this empty earth
 
 158 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 there is no one so near to me as you, no one 
 I want or need so much. And I will be 
 good ! Oh, J will be good ! I will make 
 you forget every pain I have caused you if 
 only you will listen to me ! ' ' 
 
 Fanning sat with his head in his hands. 
 He had lost his ruddy color, and his lips 
 even were pale. 
 
 "Leilia," he muttered, "you you don't 
 know. There are deep places between 
 
 j j 
 
 " No matter," she breathed hastily. " I 
 can cross them." And she added, in a sob, 
 " If you will let me." 
 
 Fanning got up suddenly, and took her 
 trembling hands. 
 
 " Come then ! " he said, in a deep voice. 
 " We are at least honest with each other ! 
 Who knows what God means to do with us? 
 Perhaps we are not done with something 
 like happiness after all ! " And he bent 
 to soothe her, for she was weeping as she 
 clung to him. 
 
 Piccarda, sitting among her roses, caught
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 159 
 
 the sound of that soft sobbing, which was 
 now without bitterness, and mixed with the 
 consolatory murmur of Fanning's voice. 
 Hearing it, the Italian girl dropped the 
 blossoms she had been idly sorting, and grew 
 very white. Her wide eyes sought a gentle, 
 downcast face upon the opposite wall, the 
 face of a virgin of Raphael's the Madon- 
 na of the Chair, nestling her baby in her 
 bosom. 
 
 " Mother of Many Sorrows ! " murmured 
 Piccarda, in a kind of broken way, "it is 
 well with them. I know it is well, and I 
 rejoice. But me ! me ! Heart of woman- 
 hood, I am faint and failing. Oh, hear 
 me! "
 
 X 
 
 " MOTHER," said Cabell, abruptly, "do 
 you want to go to Rome next week ? ' ' 
 
 They were walking along the Riviera 
 di Chiaja, with the sparkle of the sea 
 and the greenness of the gardens fol- 
 lowing the way upon the right. " For 
 me well, I believe I should like to leave 
 Naples!" 
 
 Mrs. Cabell scrutinized her son. 
 
 "Yes," she agreed. "I should like to 
 go away. It hasn't been very cheerful late- 
 ly. Since Bur died, and Leilia has been so 
 sad, and Piccarda too busy to spend much 
 time with me I don't know, Dick ! I've 
 felt homesick. ' ' 
 
 " Let's go to Rome, then." 
 
 " We might, of course." 
 
 " Or Florence. Anywhere."
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 161 
 
 " If I had my choice, Dick, I would 
 rather go home. ' ' 
 
 Cabell started. Something like a sense 
 of relief came upon him. " I would liefer 
 that than anything else," he said. " We 
 could sail next week. I'll look up the mat- 
 ter to-day." And he hummed an air as 
 they strolled along. Without doubt it 
 would be a satisfaction to leave this beau- 
 tiful, vaunted land. A shadow hung upon 
 its loveliness, for into his brief experience 
 of it death had entered, and sorrow. 
 
 As he stood waiting his turn that afternoon 
 to make inquiries about the next sailing, it 
 struck him that the man engaging the 
 clerk's attention bore a singular resem- 
 blance to Mr. Dodd, who, however, had 
 left Naples some time before. 
 
 "It must be dead amidship," this person 
 was insisting, " dead amidship; for a lady 
 travelling alone. Ah ! here is something 
 still unmarked ! " And he drew a pencil 
 across a state-room in the long diagram 
 
 of the Augusta Victoria. Then he turned, 
 ii
 
 1 62 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 
 
 and Cabell saw that it was Mr. Dodd him- 
 self. 
 
 "I thought you had left us," said the 
 young man, smiling. " What's this you're 
 about? Pardon me. I suppose I oughtn't 
 to ask if you're returning to the unlettered 
 land of the free ? ' ' 
 
 Mr. Dodd looked somewhat confused. 
 " Er no," he confided, "not at present. 
 Not until a little later. She wanted it so, 
 you see, and of course I had to acquiesce." 
 As Cabell's face showed bewilderment, he 
 added " Miss McClaren, you know. She 
 wishes to see her people before I present 
 myself for their approval. An awful bore ! 
 But she is inexorable. You remember how 
 inexorable she is capable of being? " 
 
 "Oh, yes ! But I'm not so sure that I'm 
 getting at your meaning. Miss McClaren 
 is going home " 
 
 " Certainly. To Kansas City. To see 
 her parents regarding our marriage." 
 
 " Marriage ! You won't be offended if 
 I say I am a little surprised ? "
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 163 
 
 " I am, myself," owned Mr. Dodd. " I 
 hardly know how it happened, really. But 
 after she went away I had a sense, don't you 
 know, of missing something. We were al- 
 ways meeting and disagreeing, and it gave 
 life a kind of zest, a sort of activity. And 
 without it I found myself getting very slight, 
 really very slight. So finally it seemed as 
 if there was nothing to do but to go and 
 try the climate of Rome ; and I did so, and 
 met her roaming round St. Peter's the very 
 first day. We had an animated discussion 
 on the spot, and it benefited me greatly. 
 Two weeks later I told her that I thought I 
 should like to marry her if she didn't very 
 much mind and all that sort of thing. And 
 she said she should mind it very much. But 
 when she saw I was really taking it to heart, 
 and losing my appetite, don't you know, she 
 reconsidered her cruelty." 
 
 Cabell expressed a proper emotion, and 
 Mr. Dodd went on, dreamily, " I suppose I 
 shall live hereafter in Kansas City and run 
 for the city council, if they have one. It
 
 1 64 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 will be something to do!" And he de- 
 parted, smiling a little in a languid but 
 contented way. 
 
 After completing his own arrangements 
 for sailing, Cabell decided to stop and in- 
 form the Fannings of his changed plans. 
 On inquiring, however, he found them both 
 away from home. 
 
 " Signorina Visconti is within," Nanine 
 signified, " awaiting monsieur and madame. 
 If Monsieur Cabell wishes to enter they will 
 soon return, without question." 
 
 Cabell hesitated. Through the curtains 
 of the doors he could see Piccarda in her 
 plumed hat and fur cape musing over a book. 
 At his step she gave a little exclamation. 
 The fire had made her cheeks very pink, so 
 the young man thought, regarding her as she 
 lay back in the chair, half closing her eyes. 
 
 "I certainly grow nervous," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " I am distressed to have spoken so sud- 
 denly," Cabell began, discovering that he 
 was strangely embarrassed to find himself so
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 165 
 
 near the living presence whose phantom pre- 
 sentment haunted his days persistently. He 
 felt as if he must go on talking, if only to 
 save himself from the thoughts, tender, bit- 
 ter, overpowering, which surged upon him. 
 
 "Yes I stopped in it was on my way 
 home to to tell Fanning of our depart- 
 ure. We just decided on it to-day. Seven 
 days hence we shall be again on the 
 high seas." 
 
 Piccarda lifted her lashes. "Seas? How 
 seas ? you go to Rome ? ' ' 
 
 " No only to America. We're giving 
 up our Italian voyage. I think my mother 
 seems a little homesick. And I I shall be 
 glad, too, to get back." 
 
 Piccarda gathered her dark furs about her 
 as if she had grown cold. 
 
 "You do not love our Italy, then?" she 
 asked, in a low voice. And as she spoke 
 some flood of feeling carried an unexpected 
 word to Cabell's lips. 
 
 " She has been too cruel to me," he heard 
 himself saying, passionately. In the moment
 
 1 66 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 of heavy silence following this outburst, 
 when Cabell had so far recovered himself as 
 to be able to consider the force of what he 
 had said, it seemed to him that his eyes 
 sounded in Piccarda's a depth of something 
 like sympathy, or at least comprehension. 
 Then she rose rather abruptly, glancing at 
 the small watch which she wore on her 
 wrist, and murmuring : " After all, it seems 
 that I must not wait any longer. Our old 
 Battista is not well to-day. There are 
 things I must stop to buy. When Battista 
 is ill our house is broken up. You shall 
 please to tell Leilia how I regret to miss 
 her. And every day counts now, for they, 
 too, are soon going to America. ' ' 
 
 " To America ? Leilia ? ' ' 
 
 "Both. They go together." She held 
 out her hand, asking, " Shall I say good-by 
 now? pas encore?" And he was alone, 
 listening to the rustle of her skirts and the 
 lessening sound of her footsteps. He took up 
 the book she had dropped, and fell into med- 
 itations upon matters which did not precisely
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 167 
 
 conform themselves to the printed pages be- 
 fore him. Then, presently, Leilia and Fan- 
 ning came in Leilia, all in black with some 
 soft veiling against her cheeks, glancing 
 round the room as she entered it in a certain 
 involuntary way, as if she might still see some- 
 where in a window nook a childish figure 
 curled up over a book ; Fanning, big and 
 broad in his loose clothes, crying out, with 
 something of his old heartiness, "Hello, 
 Dick ! how are you, eh ? " 
 
 When they sat down to talk over their 
 general departure, Cabell learned that his 
 friends were not taking his own route west- 
 ward, but intended sailing from Havre after 
 a month in Paris. 
 
 "There are matters to settle there," ex- 
 plained Fanning, "and I've come to the 
 conclusion that my affairs are not so press- 
 ing but that I can take time from them if I 
 want to. Since Leilia's going home with 
 me time doesn't make so much difference." 
 
 Leilia smiled a gentle, absent smile, which 
 touched Cabell, and reassured him. Yet,
 
 1 68 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 afterward as he crossed the piazza, he de- 
 cided that for himself it would be intolera- 
 ble to have to nourish life upon a sentiment 
 so wasted with regret. Mrs. Cabell, how- 
 ever, upon hearing that the Fannings were 
 to go away together, fell into tremors of 
 gratification. In their departure together 
 for America she saw an evidence of full and 
 perfect reconciliation. 
 
 "For," she admitted, "though I have 
 never spoken of it, I suspected that there 
 was some little difference between them. 
 You know what my divination is, Dick? 
 While no one else dreamed that all was not 
 well with Jim and Leilia, I had surmised a 
 shade of misunderstanding. It never really 
 troubled me, though ! for I have the power, 
 almost terrible at times, of foreseeing how 
 things are going to turn out. And I felt 
 that perfect happiness lay ahead, that every- 
 thing would be well." 
 
 "It is, any way, well enough," said 
 Cabell, with moderated enthusiasm. 
 
 "Yes, dear. If I could only feel that
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 169 
 
 poor little Piccarda's future was as hopeful ! 
 But I have grave doubts. And my lips are 
 sealed. Between you and Leilia there is 
 nothing for me to do, except to stand by 
 with folded hands and see her sacrificed ! 
 My only comfort is that, as Leilia keeps 
 reminding me, Piccarda is no spiritless lamb 
 like Anna Bedell. She will not suffer 
 mutely." 
 
 "Well, then, don't worry over it all, 
 mother! " 
 
 "I can't seem to help it, Dick. Every- 
 thing reminds me." 
 
 It chanced that upon the next day some- 
 thing occurred to bring the subject rather 
 forcibly before them both. They had taken 
 their usual walk through the gardens along 
 the sea, stopping to observe how the trees 
 were freshening, to watch the daily drill of 
 the peasant squad, the passage of an occa- 
 sional well-mounted officer, or the romping 
 of the little dark children in charge of the 
 beribboned nurses on the benches, and had 
 come to the end of the green strip, into the
 
 170 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 open space of the Largo Vittoria. Few 
 vehicles were passing. A number of car- 
 riages stood along the curb ; a knot of cab- 
 men chatted on a corner ; and an officer of 
 the police, in picturesque mantle, stalked 
 across the square. A half-grown boy, bare- 
 footed, pale, and in rags, was swinging him- 
 self between two rude crutches along the 
 crossing of the street beyond the villa. He 
 made his way with difficulty, as if it was 
 new to him to be helpless, and though he 
 did not seem to be begging, his looks were 
 pitiful enough to have won charity from a 
 passer-by, a woman plainly dressed, a ser- 
 vant, Cabell thought, carrying a little cov- 
 ered basket on her arm. 
 
 She ran after the boy, and pressed some 
 small coins upon him, and had regained the 
 sidewalk when a very dashing equipage ap- 
 peared at the turn of the street. It was an 
 exceedingly smart trap, built very high, and 
 drawn by a large horse of a delicate russet 
 tint, precisely matching in color the polished 
 wood of the cart. The animal, from its size,
 
 ONE OF THE V1SCONTI 171 
 
 its hue, its proud gait, had the look of a 
 cast in pale terra-cotta of an antique war- 
 horse, impressive and splendid. In observ- 
 ing him, Cabell for an instant failed to no- 
 tice that the man in the cart was Count 
 Orsini, accompanied by a boy whose high 
 cockaded hat and majestically folded arms 
 comported with the expression of dignity 
 on his small, cockney face. 
 
 The count himself, sitting aloft, with his 
 pointed chin and upturned mustache bent 
 toward the collar of a top-coat which carried 
 out the flat yellowish tones of horse and trap, 
 looked something less amiable than upon the 
 occasion when Cabell had last seen him. In- 
 deed, Cabell had just thought to himself that 
 Orsini suggested the patrician end of a 
 family which has begun to lay bases for 
 future distinction in carrying off travellers 
 for ransom, when he became aware that the 
 boy with the crutches, not noticing the 
 cart, was swinging himself in the way of it. 
 A note of warning rang from the men at the 
 corner. But Orsini, neither pausing nor
 
 172 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 altering his course, drove on. In another 
 instant there was a cry of fright, a clatter of 
 hoofs; and the boy, by some miracle es- 
 caping the wheels, was thrown in a terrified 
 heap on the stones, with his poor staffs be- 
 side him in splinters. Meanwhile the yel- 
 low horse, wrinkling his superb neck, pur- 
 sued his way across the piazza. From every- 
 where rose shouts of indignation, and there 
 was a general rush to the middle of the 
 square where the boy lay. The woman 
 with the basket was already beside him, 
 lifting his head, motioning the throng away 
 that air might reach him; but the count 
 did not look back nor in any way concern 
 himself with the misadventure he had caused 
 till the guard in the green-lined mantle 
 stopped his progress, catching his horse by 
 the resetted bridle. 
 
 Then Orsini frowned, laughed, put his 
 hand in his pocket, and, turning, flung a 
 handful of coins back toward the prostrate 
 figure in the road. The little crowd had 
 moved somewhat away, and the copper
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 173 
 
 pieces, dancing over the stones, struck, sev- 
 eral of them, upon the hands of the kneeling 
 woman. At the touch and ring of the money 
 she suddenly lifted her head, and as if to see 
 the better, breathe the better, put aside the 
 dark veil binding on her small, simple hat ; 
 and when she had done this she turned and 
 set upon the man who looked back con- 
 temptuously from the high-seated cart, a face 
 white and fixed, a glance still and burning. 
 And as he caught this mute, accusing aspect, 
 Orsini flushed, muttering a solitary word. 
 
 Cabell, half way across the street, intend- 
 ing to render what aid he might, stopped 
 short, catching his breath. For he, as well 
 as the count, saw suddenly that the face of 
 the girl kneeling in the road was the face of 
 Piccarda Visconti.
 
 XI 
 
 CABELL went back to the curb where his 
 mother stood. It had come upon him in 
 the moment of recognizing Piccarda that his 
 presence might only add to her embarrass- 
 ments. He saw Orsini spring to the ground 
 and approach the little throng ; and after 
 this no more of the scene in the Largo was 
 apparent to him, for he turned from it and 
 drew his mother into the palmy shade of 
 the Villa. 
 
 "Richard," said Mrs. Cabell, with un- 
 usual calmness, " it was Piccarda." 
 
 " Yes. It was." 
 
 "Their old servant is sick, and I sup- 
 pose she had to fetch something. One 
 thing ! she knows now what the count 
 is ! " 
 
 "Yes. If she cares for him it will hurt
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 175 
 
 her. And if she doesn't it will make things 
 all the harder. ' ' 
 
 " Dick ! you you don't believe every- 
 thing will go on just the same? " 
 
 " Quite the same. Marriages over here, 
 you know, in families of consequence, are 
 not arranged upon sentimental grounds ex- 
 actly." 
 
 " But she must certainly condemn such 
 a contemptible thing as the count just now 
 did! " 
 
 " There isn't much doubt of her condemn- 
 ing it. But she will have to forgive, or 
 at least overlook it. I can foresee clearly 
 enough just what will happen, just how this 
 fellow will make his amends and apologies, 
 just how Signor Visconti will induce his 
 niece to acquiesce. Though, perhaps poor, 
 proud little soul ! she will be wise enough 
 to dismiss the whole affair without a word, 
 and thus save herself a world of trouble. She 
 is too penetrating not to see in this inci- 
 dent an epitome of Orsini's nature. That is 
 what tortures me ! I've often thought lately
 
 176 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 that ' ' he broke off short and pulled his 
 
 hat over his eyes a little. " Here I am doing 
 just what I am always beseeching you to re- 
 frain from ! " And as they stopped in the 
 half-circle of green before the hotel, he 
 asked : " Do you mind if I go on walking ? 
 I don't feel as if I cared to go in the house 
 just now." 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Cabell, "I shall not 
 mind." She appeared to be thinking, and 
 after Cabell had gone she sat down on one 
 of the benches, still meditating. Then an 
 air of resolution disclosed itself in her soft, 
 thin lips and in the usually mild and waver- 
 ing glance of her hazel eyes. 
 
 "Perhaps they have even now begun to 
 persecute that poor, motherless child ! ' ' she 
 mused. " My heart misgives me. She 
 should not stand alone in this hard hour. 
 Strong and determined as I am, I should be 
 a stay and refuge to her. Her uncle, though 
 he seems very much of a gentleman, is, after 
 all, only an Italian. If he should be harsh 
 with her " She started to her feet, and
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 177 
 
 summoned a little open carriage, and pres- 
 ently after alighted before the yawning arch- 
 way of the Palazzo Visconti, in a street that 
 was to-day free of market-stalls, with only a 
 beggar or two about, and a few gossiping 
 women. 
 
 No one was in sight in the court or on 
 the staircase or the upper landing. Old Bat- 
 tista's illness had suspended all the usual 
 operations of the house, apparently ; and 
 mounting the stone steps, Mrs. Cabell, led 
 by a sound of voices, found herself at the 
 threshold of the cell-like room into which 
 the orange-trees looked. 
 
 Here, at the desk, half turned in a big 
 chair, waving his hands in a soothing, dep- 
 recatory way, Signer Visconti sat facing his 
 niece, and trying, as it seemed with slight 
 success, to calm Piccarda, and stem the tide 
 of her anger and excitement. 
 
 She, in her plain frock of dark stuff, with 
 her hat and veil beside her on the floor in 
 a confusion with some chiccory and a little 
 yellow lobe of cheese scattered from an over-
 
 178 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 turned basket, had fetched up breathless in 
 a rush of words. Her face was flooded with 
 color, her lips shook. 
 
 "Che ve' di diu cattivo ? " she cried; 
 and then catching sight in the doorway of 
 Mrs. Cabell, uncertain and trembling, she 
 seized her hand and kissed it, and drew her 
 into the room. "It is my good friend, "she 
 said to her uncle, " and she herself has seen 
 all this I tell you of! all ! for just when 
 it happened I have observed her with her 
 son upon the street. Is it not so, Mrs. Ca- 
 bell ? Oh, I have told my uncle what he is 
 this miserable creature I went to marry ! 
 went, yes ! but I go no longer to do so. 
 Rather I should I die first much as I should 
 hate to die. Scellerato ! lo scellerato ! " 
 
 " My child ! my dear ! " implored Sig- 
 nor Visconti, " be of more moderation ! 
 it is nothing this matter, nothing a 
 trifle!" 
 
 "Nothing? a trifle?" said Piccarda, 
 passionately. " Though it is so little it is 
 enough. If he had only thrust a harmless
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 179 
 
 dog away cruelly, meanly, it should have 
 told me the kind of low creature he was. 
 But to trample down a helpless child, and 
 fling his money into that poor, fainting face 
 Dio mio ! You think I should degrade 
 myself so ? to be wife wife to such as he ? 
 Rather I should die first ! And listen, my 
 uncle. I have not wished to be his wife 
 even when I believed him good. It is true. 
 But I have told myself, ' He is of honor, even 
 like those of my own house, he loves me 
 much, and I have pity for the little Egisto, 
 so motherless and sweet. And it pleased 
 everyone that I consent ; why then should I 
 not consent, since it does not come to me, 
 
 as I have foolishly dreamed, to to make 
 
 
 
 a marriage of love, of the real heart? It 
 is reasoning wisely like this when I was at 
 Algiers that I have consented ; but lately I 
 have shed many tears. Now it is past. I 
 have just told him, simply, without anger 
 behold how calm I am even now ! " inter- 
 polated Piccarda, gasping, shaking, " that 
 I wished never to see him or such as he
 
 i8o ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 again. I have said to him oh, very politely 
 and with dignity that he is an evil beast." 
 "And he is!" broke in Mrs. Cabell, 
 holding Piccarda's flushed face against her 
 own palpitating heart, " though I don't 
 know that I should have used just such an 
 expression. But perhaps it doesn't sound 
 so unladylike in Italian. I, Signer Vis- 
 conti, I have been quiet too long. I see it 
 now. I should long ago have told this 
 poor child what Count Orsini was, and 
 how shamefully he used his wife. She was 
 born and raised in Jessamine County as 
 sweet and lovely a girl as one would wish 
 to see took the greatest interest in charity 
 work and young people's meetings. And 
 the count broke her heart, and sneered at 
 her sufferings, just as he sneered to-day 
 you know, Piccarda ! at the boy he ran 
 down in the street. Her mother, Mrs. 
 Bedell we were girls together; she was 
 Sally Woodson weeps by the hour when 
 she tells how the count ill-treated Anna, and 
 never came near her when she was dying,
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 181 
 
 and kept all her money and the baby too. 
 And here I've sat with folded hands, and 
 never said a word to prevent Piccarda from 
 marrying this this creature if I may 
 say so ! Oh, Piccarda, can you forgive your 
 old friend?" 
 
 " I have known nothing of this," said 
 Signor Visconti. " I go never to Rome. 
 But I had thought American women do not 
 usually submit to be greatly mistreated. I 
 am surprised, oh, deeply surprised ! The 
 count can no doubt explain why his wife's 
 family has taken offence." 
 
 Piccarda was not attending. 
 
 "You!" she indicated to Mrs. Cabell, 
 " you who knew all this ! why is it that you 
 have not told me ? ' ' 
 
 "I I wanted to," faltered Mrs. Cabell. 
 "But my son thought it would be an un- 
 warrantable interference. He the truth is 
 he would not consent " 
 
 She left off with a start, for Piccarda had 
 suddenly drawn back. 
 
 " He!" exclaimed the girl a little
 
 182 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 breathlessly. " He knew I should marry 
 such a man ! and he said nothing. He 
 cared nothing. Ah ! ah ! This is your 
 American idea of friendship ! It is warm ! 
 yes ! as snow or ice. Men are not so dif- 
 ferent, good or bad, it would seem. For 
 me I shall trust no more in any. ' ' 
 
 "Piccarda! don't feel so unkindly to- 
 ward my son ! He thought it would be for 
 the best " 
 
 " Oh, I understand." 
 
 "Really, Piccarda. And I shall be very 
 unhappy if you are going to misjudge him." 
 
 Piccarda turned to the window. 
 
 " After all it will not matter so much. I 
 shall not see him again, since you go away 
 this week. It is this week, is it not? " 
 
 "Y yes. But aren't you going to let 
 him come to say good-by?" 
 
 Piccarda stooped to snap a leaf from an 
 orange branch which had adventured over 
 the window-sill. "I fear," she said, 
 "that it will not be possible. You see, 
 dear Mrs. Cabell, it is like this : I am dis-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 183 
 
 turbed, much disturbed, by all that has hap- 
 pened to-day. And for a time it will be 
 best for me to see few people ; none, in- 
 deed, except those that I care for my good 
 friends. I I am sorry." 
 
 Mrs. Cabell's appealing hand fell, and 
 she drew herself up to a height of great dig- 
 nity. 
 
 " Good-by, then, Piccarda," she said, 
 with a little tremor of resentment. " Good- 
 by." 
 
 But Piccarda wheeled about, and kissed 
 the other's soft drab hair impetuously. 
 "You and I!" she cried, "we cannot 
 part like this. I love you too well ! " 
 
 When Mrs. Cabell returned to the hotel, 
 and sat down to think over her morning 
 visit to the Palazzo Visconti, she began to 
 realize that it had resulted in little upon 
 which she could congratulate herself. 
 Gradually, too, it became evident that duty 
 required her to divulge to her son the man- 
 ner in which she had ignored his wishes. 
 The confession would not be pleasant, nor
 
 1 84 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 would it be agreeable to relate to him that 
 Piccarda did not count him among those 
 whom she held in friendly esteem ; but Mrs. 
 Cabell felt that, however uncomfortable the 
 situation might be, she could not hesitate to 
 face it. 
 
 Accordingly, a day or so later, she told 
 Cabell all that had passed in the little stone 
 room of the Palazzo. He listened with 
 deep interest to the story of Piccarda' s 
 denunciation of the count, and his face 
 seemed to brighten as the recital went on ; 
 but as his mother pressed forward to Pic- 
 carda's denunciation of himself, he lost 
 countenance, and bit his lip, and rose, and 
 began to pace the floor. 
 
 " I was quite offended, Richard, and per- 
 haps I said more than was consistent with 
 dignity, in trying to persuade her that it 
 was unjust of her to speak of you so so 
 inconsiderately." 
 
 "Never mind, mother. She has her 
 point of view. Of course, it isn't precisely 
 pleasant to know that from it I appear con-
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 185 
 
 temptible ! but I shall have to submit, it 
 seems. ' ' 
 
 Nothing more was said regarding the mat- 
 ter until the following day, when Leilia and 
 her husband came to the hotel for a visit of 
 leave-taking. Then Fanning, seating him- 
 self, said : "Well! I suppose you've heard 
 that it's all over between this Orsini fel- 
 low and our little friend? deuced good 
 thing, too. Signorina Visconti wouldn't 
 have been so long left in ignorance of 
 the count's character and antecedents if 
 I had known sooner as much about them 
 as I do now." And directing a keen 
 eye upon Cabell, he repeated, in a tone 
 of encouraging cordiality : " Yes, it's all 
 off. And we're the first to profit by it ! 
 for Piccarda's going with us to Paris, 
 to stay a month. I got permission my- 
 self from the old fellow her uncle, you 
 know. He's rather glum over the matter ; 
 says Orsini 's a lamb, and that Piccarda 
 will live to regret her foolish obstinacy. 
 He's tremendously fond of her, though.
 
 1 86 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 When I told him she was looking pale and 
 flimsy, and that my wife and I both thought 
 a change of air and scene would be good for 
 her, why, he got quite scared, and I hadn't 
 much trouble in persuading him to let her 
 accompany us. We start in the morning." 
 
 Cabell felt sick and hopeless as he lis- 
 tened. He rose with as careless an air as 
 he could manage, and with pocketed hands, 
 stood staring miserably out upon the bright- 
 ness of the sea. Presently Leilia rose also, 
 and came toward the window ; and as she 
 faced him in the green shade of the heavy 
 rep curtains, and saw the gloomy fixity of 
 his eyes, she asked, quietly: "Have you 
 and Piccarda fallen out ? ' ' 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Just now, when we spoke of you to her, 
 I thought she seemed a little " 
 
 " Uninterested?" 
 
 "No; but perhaps a trifle less cordial 
 than she is usually. What have you done ? ' ' 
 
 " Only what you did : kept quiet con- 
 cerning Orsini. Has she forgiven you? "
 
 - ONE OF THE VISCONTI 187 
 
 " She doesn't know yet that I knew about 
 him. I shall break it to her by degrees. 
 You see I shall have plenty of opportunities 
 to make my peace with her." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Dick! all this is a great pity ! such 
 friends as you were ! I'm not willing to 
 have you go away with so changed an idea 
 of Piccarda. See here ! do you want to 
 see her once more ? perhaps to talk with 
 her a little?" 
 
 " No. Because I have nothing to say. 
 Though if it were merely a question of set- 
 ting eyes upon her again bright and beau- 
 tiful as she is " 
 
 " Because I know exactly where she is at 
 this minute, cousin. As we left the Palazzo 
 a little while ago she was starting for church 
 to pray, I believe, for a safe voyage to 
 Paris, and give her favorite Madonna a votive 
 heart of silver, all neatly beaded round the 
 edges, in token of gratitude for being deliv- 
 ered from the count ! poor Orsini ! he was 
 very agreeable. You know the cathedral ?
 
 1 88 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 Piccarda worships in one of the chapels 
 there. I don't know which one. And I 
 feel a sort of traitor in telling you all this ! 
 Do as you like, Dick. Jim and I are going 
 away directly." 
 
 After she and her husband had departed, 
 Cabell had a moment of thought. He de- 
 cided that there was no good reason why he 
 should not act upon Leilia's suggestion. His 
 mute observance of Piccarda, kneeling in 
 prayer before some aged altar, could not 
 reach her consciousness or add to her re- 
 sentment. 
 
 " And it will give me something to hoard 
 forever," he pursued, thinking of the picture 
 he had conjured up. 
 
 The distance to the Cathedral seemed in- 
 terminable, though the carrozzella Cabell had 
 selected whirled swiftly enough along the 
 wide and narrow streets which had come to 
 look so familiar to him in their vivid and 
 varying scenes. A region of fish-stalls, with 
 woven trays full of silvery, wriggling things, 
 which leaped in the sunlight under the wicker
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 189 
 
 prongs of the dealer's fork ; a place where 
 beautiful blue water bottles and fantastic 
 shapes of shining crystals were ranged for 
 sale along the cobblestones ; curbs piled 
 with oranges in accurate pyramids ; a pass- 
 ing funeral with empty coffin borne aloft in 
 rich draperies and papery garlands of pink 
 and white ; a woman who sat on the pave- 
 ment weeping like a child, as she viewed the 
 fragments of the bottle of oil she had let 
 slip from her careless fingers; here a shrine 
 lighted dimly with a smoking lamp ; there a 
 beggar uttering a monotonous lament ; every- 
 where noise and sunshine, ruinous churches 
 and hundreds of little shops bearing the in- 
 scription, "Banco Lotto." These sights 
 struck vaguely upon Cabell's eye, and he 
 had a sense of relief when at last the Cathe- 
 dral, with its facade all latticed in scaffold- 
 ing, came in sight, with a beggar waiting, 
 as usual, to lift the soiled blanketing over 
 the door. 
 
 It was dark, damp, and unutterably silent 
 in the lofty place. Afar off, where the great
 
 190 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 altar rose against an arch of dim bluish glass 
 and a grotto-like arrangement of brown 
 saints and seraphim, a few priests were mov- 
 ing, mere whitish flecks in their crinkled 
 surplices. After a moment, tiny spots of 
 orange color disclosed themselves as flames 
 upon a dozen tapers ; gtenpses of figures 
 stole from the remote shadows of the painted 
 ceiling; and the late sun, slanting through 
 some high, unseen windows, speared the old 
 walls with dazzling streaks of amber and 
 crimson and gold, and shot a green lustre 
 from the massive pillars, and fell in plain, 
 unbeautiful blotches upon a floor paved with 
 worn and sunken black and white. Only a 
 few people were to be seen, wandering aim- 
 lessly about the vast expanse, crossing them- 
 selves before altars, and bending a casual 
 knee as they passed on. 
 
 Cabell evaded the solicitude of an aged 
 sacristan, who desired to show him the old 
 vaults below, where signs and symbols of the 
 pagan gods mingle so peacefully with the 
 tokens of a later system of religion. He
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 191 
 
 proceeded forward under the heavy green 
 columns, listening to the faint, far intona- 
 tions of the priests, smelling the holy odors 
 of the burning incense, and glancing into 
 the chapels opening on his right a sweep of 
 faded painting and brilliant mosaic. 
 
 One of these was so dark that the young 
 man, believing it empty, stepped a little past 
 the threshold, intending to see if perhaps a 
 new silver heart with a beaded edge adorned 
 any shrine within. And as he did so, a 
 woman who had been kneeling on the stones, 
 below the ruddy, indefinite rays of a swing- 
 ing Byzantine lamp, rose as if to depart, and 
 bent herself in a final devotion. Turning, 
 she paused rather suddenly ; and from her 
 hand a thread of carven beads fell upon the 
 cracked marble floor. 
 
 Cabell stooped, and gathered up the fall- 
 en rosary with its little, glimmering cross of 
 thin silver. 
 
 " I did not expect to intrude upon you 
 like this," he said, "though I can't deny 
 that I knew you were here. Since you
 
 192 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 would not let me come to say good-by to 
 you, I I suppose I felt myself justified in 
 taking at least a silent farewell." He add- 
 ed, after a trying silence, " Will you pardon 
 me for this ? ' ' 
 
 Piccarda's face, in the quiet twilight of 
 the chapel, was as white and shining as the 
 little cross dropping from her slender hands. 
 She seemed to have been weeping perhaps 
 tears of thankfulness before the Virgin 
 who had worked her deliverance from a 
 union with the count. Her voice was some- 
 what unsteady as she said, " If I sent you 
 word not to come, it was because I felt that 
 you had not been truly the friend I thought 
 you." 
 
 "You were, so far, right," Cabell said. 
 " I wasn't a friend at all. I was a lover ! 
 and while I didn't know anything of a 
 positive nature about the count, I knew 
 very well where I stood myself. It was dis- 
 tinctly no affair of mine, your acceptance 
 of Orsini ; what concerned me, was to act 
 with as much dignity as a man may manage
 
 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 193 
 
 in such straits." He drew up, but as Pic- 
 carda did not lift her eyes, he resumed, hur- 
 riedly, " In spite of my better judgment 
 I have told you that I love you. I do. I 
 shall always, I think. But I had no right to 
 speak of it." 
 
 Piccarda did not look up, but she said, in 
 a lowered voice, '" Why? " 
 
 " Oh, you know why ! " he smiled rather 
 sadly. " Silence is the only respectable 
 course for a man whose fortunes, and talents, 
 and prospects are alike obscure, and who 
 has presumed to love a lady such as you 
 beautiful and noble." He added, almost 
 sharply, " Oh, Piccarda ! Let me kiss your 
 hands before I go ! here, with the little 
 blessed rosary in them ! Let me take away 
 that memory ! ' ' 
 
 " It is a holy place for a farewell," mur- 
 mured she. " Good-by, then. And you 
 may kiss my hands, if you wish since it is 
 only for the memory. But there is some- 
 thing else you shall remember, too ! It is 
 very true, no doubt, what you have said
 
 194 ONE OF THE VISCONTI 
 
 that I am beautiful, and illustrious, and a - d 
 all that ! But I am one other thing that you 
 have not mentioned, that you do not seem 
 to know I am the woman who loves you. ' ' 
 
 She gave a little sob as he cried out, and 
 clasped her hands, trembling, repeating her 
 name over ana over. 
 
 " Piccarda !. is it so ? is it so? my heart ! 
 my life ! Do you mean that for me you 
 will leave your Italy ? the land you love so 
 well? for me, Piccarda? for me? " 
 
 Piccarda lifted a smiling, flushing face. 
 
 "lam greatly interested in America!" 
 she said, demurely.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 RECT) 10-UHC 
 
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 ON EOF THE 
 VISCONTI 
 
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 ii) 
 
 EVA W'BRODHEAD 
 
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