rEA\PTATION 
 
 BY:.RIGHAED : BAGOT
 
 
 I'L
 
 TEMPTATION
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 RICHARD BAGOT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "CASTING OF NETS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 1907
 
 TEMPTATION 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TN a by-street of the ancient city of Viterbo, its exterior 
 -^ remarkable for nothing unless it were a heavy portico of 
 Renaissance architecture, stands a grim, square building a story 
 or so higher than the houses on either side of it. 
 
 In the early part of the seventeenth century Palazzo Vitali was 
 one of the residences of a powerful family which, had it not been 
 for the rise of the great house of Barberini, would in all proba- 
 bility have succeeded in seating one of its members on the Papal 
 throne. 
 
 Cardinal Astorre Vitali, in the Conclave following the death of 
 the Ludovisi Pope, Gregory XV., was among the most prominent 
 of the candidates in the Sacred College for election to the Chair 
 of St Peter. The influence of France, however, in the Conclave, 
 secured to a Cardinal of the Barberini family the Papal tiara, and 
 Cardinal Astorre did not very long survive the disappointment in 
 his ambition to reign over Rome and the Catholic world. 
 
 The Cardinal's Roman palace was sold at his death to his 
 kinsman, Monsignor Pamphili, afterwards Pope Innocent X., who 
 subsequently demolished it in order to enlarge the neighbouring 
 Pamphili residence into the stately Palazzo Pamphili as it now 
 exists ; whence Donna Olimpia Pamphili, of famous or rather 
 infamous memory, trafficked in the rich benefices of the Church, 
 sold episcopal sees to the highest bidders, and in these and 
 other matters caused scandal generally throughout Christendom. 
 
 The once extensive domains of the Vitali family had long 
 passed into the hands of other families connected with it by 
 marriage, or into those of strangers. Cardinal Astorre's palace 
 and property at Viterbo, however, had remained in the possession 
 of Casa Vitali, and the Cardinal's arms yet surmounted the 
 
 A
 
 2 TEMPTATION 
 
 heavy portico declared by the Viterbesi to be the work of 
 Bramante, notwithstanding the fact that the famous architect 
 had been dead nearly a hundred years when Cardinal Astorre 
 Vitali built his palace ; a far inferior genius, to wit, Bernini, 
 being in all probability responsible for its rococo style. 
 
 Once inside the courtyard of the palace, the forbidding im- 
 pression created by its exterior faded. Immediately opposite the 
 great entrance a massive, yet graceful open loggia disclosed a 
 vista of terraced gardens, of formal hedges of box and shady ilex 
 avenues ; while, beyond these, a vast tract of open country — hill, 
 dale, and woodland — s])read away as far as the eye could see. 
 
 The fact that the gardens were no gardens, but rather a wilder- 
 ness in which everything grew at its own sweet will and pleasure, 
 that the box hedges were neglected in a manner sufficient to 
 drive a topiary gardener mad, and that the terraces were tracks 
 of lush weeds broken here and there by flights of crumbling stone 
 steps, added rather than the reverse to the fascination of the 
 place. If the first thought of a foreign, and especially of an 
 English visitor to the gardens of Palazzo Vitali was apt to take 
 the form of regret that these should be so neglected, the next 
 thought, were the visitor possessed of an artistic sense, would 
 infallibly be to hope that nobody would ever think it necessary to 
 put them into order. 
 
 Not many foreigners, however, do more than visit the principal 
 monuments of Viterbo, and very few have occasion to penetrate 
 into that quarter of the town where Palazzo Vitali may be seen 
 standing out grim and forbidding amid the squalid dwellings 
 surrounding it. 
 
 The actual possessor of Cardinal Astorre's palace. Count Ugo 
 Vitali, was a very good specimen of the Italian petite noblesse, 
 the small nobility of the provinces, of which the great world of 
 Rome and the other large cities of Italy know little and care less. 
 A robust, handsome man of little over thirty. Count Ugo could 
 never have been mistaken for anything else than a " provincial." 
 His face was ruddy and sun-burned, and his hands brown with a 
 brownness that rarely knew gloves. Altogether the owner of 
 Palazzo Vitali was the true type of the campagnuolo who was also
 
 TEMPTATION 3 
 
 a gentleman by birth and descent, and whose good blood showed 
 itself in his easy, simple manner, and independent bearing. 
 
 Although it was scarcely yet seven o'clock, and the dew was 
 still lying on the roses and box hedges in the gardens of Palazzo 
 Vitali in places as yet untouched by the rays of the May sun, 
 Count Ugo had been round and about his property since shortly 
 after daybreak. He kept no agent — \Cv& fattoi-e being one of his 
 own peasants having somewhat more education than the rest — 
 preferring to occupy himself in person with the management and 
 superintendence of his lands, and not disdaining, when necessity 
 arose, to overlook the peasants at work in his vineyards or among 
 his crops of hay and corn. 
 
 On this particular May morning, Ugo Vitali had been engaged 
 in minutely inspecting some acres of vines, and superintending 
 the dressing of them with the solution of sulphate of copper 
 which was to protect them against the dreaded phylloxera. He 
 was returning to Palazzo Vitali fresh from the sloping vineyards 
 lying immediately below the gardens, and the sweet, dewy scent 
 of the country seemed to chng to him as he ascended the steps 
 leading to the loggia of the palace. 
 
 As he crossed the terrace, an old man, shabbily clad in a pair 
 of ill-brushed black trousers and an alpaca jacket of the same 
 colour, advanced from the house to meet him. 
 
 " Signorino," he began — Count Ugo had been a married man 
 for nearly three years, but all the older servants, and, indeed, 
 most of his people continued to address him as " signorino " all 
 the same — "Signorino, the signora contessa desired me to tell 
 you that she did not wish to be disturbed till the breakfast hour. 
 Emilia says that the signora has slept ill." 
 
 Ugo nodded. " Very well," he replied, " I shall not disturb 
 her. After all, she is right ; it is early yet, A cup of black 
 coffee in my room, Taddeo. I suppose," he added, " that the 
 signora contessa will come to breakfast ? " 
 
 The old man shrugged his shoulders. " Mah I " he ejaculated, 
 " I know nothing, except that she is not to be disturbed — and 
 the sun risen nearly five hours ago ! " 
 
 Count Ugo's eyes gleamed with a quick look of annoyance.
 
 4 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Bring the coffee to my room," he said briefly, and the man 
 retreated across the courtyard to the servants' quarters. 
 
 "Taddeo becomes detestable," Ugo said to himself. 
 " Affection in an old servant is all very well ; but when it takes 
 the form of jealousy it is tiresome." 
 
 Count Vitali, in the opinion of many of those who happened to 
 be of his own class, had married beneath him ; inasmuch as his 
 wife had not been of noble birth, neither had she brought him 
 a fortune which could be regarded as an equivalent for this 
 deficiency. 
 
 The marriage had been, at any rate on his part, one of love ; 
 and if Cristina Frezzi, the daughter of a well-to-do mercante di 
 campagna, had married him not without a sense of satisfaction 
 that by doing so she was turning herself into a " signora 
 contessa," there had been at all events quite enough of passion in 
 her love to satisfy him that she reciprocated his own. 
 
 For the first year or so everything had gone smoothly. The 
 society of Viterbo was small, and, of course, absolutely provincial 
 in its tastes and tone. A certain number of families had never 
 received the new Contessa Vitali into their intimacy, ostensibly 
 because she was not " noble," but possibly also because they 
 had hoped that Ugo Vitali would ally himself with one of them- 
 selves. There was no disputing the point as to Countess Vitali 
 being a beautiful woman, but it was a point conceded with a 
 reservation. There were those who said, with a shrug of the 
 shoulders, that Countess Ugo's beauty was of a type to be seen 
 any day among the peasants in the Ciociaria ; and that it could 
 equally be found on the steps of the Piazzc di Spagna in Rome 
 any day during the tourist season. 
 
 Count Vitali had not greatly troubled himself as to what might 
 or might not be said by the Viterbesi concerning the wife he had 
 chosen. After his marriage he had taken her to Naples for the 
 honeymoon, and had then brought her back to Palazzo Vitali in 
 order to resume his usual life. As a matter of fact, he had 
 grudged the interruption in his agricultural pursuits. They re- 
 presented to him a passion older and more intimate than that of 
 love, and he was never really happy when away from them.
 
 TEMPTATION 5 
 
 It was only towards the end of the second year of his married 
 life that he had become conscious of a change in his wife which 
 he was scarcely able to define. It was not due to any diminution 
 of affection towards himself, so far as he was able to judge ; and 
 Ugo put it down in his own mind as the effect of disappointment — 
 not with her life or surroundings, indeed, for the possibility of 
 such a thing would never have occurred to him — but at the fact 
 that no child had hitherto been born to them. It was perfectly 
 natural, he told himself, that Cristina should take this to heart, 
 and that it should make her at times irritable, and less easy to 
 please than she had been in the earlier days of their life together. 
 In the meantime he contented himself with the thought that this 
 disappointment would probably be removed in due course, and 
 that when it was so, Cristina would be more contented, and begin 
 to take interest again in her home life. 
 
 Instead of going to his wife's rooms as he had intended, Ugo 
 betook himself to the apartment on the ground floor, in which he 
 transacted his business and discussed matters connected with his 
 estate with his faf^ore. 
 
 He had not been there very long before Taddeo entered the 
 room, bringing with him the coffee, and also the morning's post 
 which consisted, apparently, of the newspapers from Rome of the 
 previous evening, and a few circulars. Count Vitali poured him- 
 self out some coffee from a quaintly chased copper coffee-pot. He 
 was proceeding to open a paper in order to learn the latest news 
 from the outside world, when his glance fell upon a black- 
 bordered envelope lying partially concealed among the circulars 
 and advertisements of agricultural implements of which, as a rule, 
 his correspondence chiefly consisted. 
 
 On examining it, he saw that it bore the Roman post-mark, 
 and was addressed in a handwriting unknown to him. A moment 
 or two later, after glancing through the contents of the letter, he 
 sprung to his feet with an exclamation of astonishment and 
 delight. The coffee remained untasted while Ugo walked up and 
 down the room, reading and re-reading the few lines written on 
 the deep black-edged notepaper, as though to make certain that 
 his eyes had not deceived him.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 /^NLY a small portion of the once magnificent and still 
 ^^ stately suite of rooms on the piano nobile of Palazzo Vital i 
 was inhabited by its present owners. The remainder of the 
 apartment, which formed the first floor of the courtyard, consisted 
 of a succession of reception rooms, halls, and ante-chambers, of 
 dismantled bedrooms and bare corridors, that would have needed 
 an income far larger than that possessed by Count VitaU to 
 maintain in a habitable condition. 
 
 It had been all very well for Cardinal Astorre, with his many 
 ecclesiastical benefices, his large private fortune, and his Court 
 of gentlemen and retainers, to house himself in princely fashion : 
 nor would the dimensions of his palace have been any too large 
 for the accommodation of a powerful cardinal in the days of Pope 
 Urban VIII. For the needs of a simple country gentleman of 
 the nineteenth century, however, the capabilities of Palazzo Vitali 
 were decidedly superfluous. 
 
 The consequence was that the great rooms on the piano nobile 
 now presented a strangely dreary appearance, and conveyed an 
 impression of departed grandeur which the shafts of sunlight, 
 struggling through the apertures in the closed shutters and falling 
 upon tattered damask and gilded ceilings, could not dispel. 
 
 Nearly everything, indeed, that was saleable in Palazzo Vitali 
 had long ago been disposed of to dealers at insignificant prices, 
 to be resold to foreigners at no little profit. Nothing remained 
 of the works of art which had once adorned the reception rooms 
 of the Cardinal and his successors. Only a few portraits and 
 pictures of no marketable value looked down from the walls, 
 while the furniture was reduced to various chairs and tables 
 distributed here and there about the marble floors. 
 
 It was, therefore, not only for reasons of economy, but also for 
 the sake of convenience that Count and Countess Vitali elected 
 
 6 
 
 «1
 
 TEMPTATION 7 
 
 to leave the greater part of Cardinal Astorre's stately apartment 
 unoccupied, and to live in a few rooms which had been re- 
 furnished at the time of their marriage in, let it be confessed, the 
 deplorably bad taste dear to the modern Italians. 
 
 It was half-past eleven, the hour at which Ugo Vitali and his 
 wife were accustomed to breakfast. Taddeo, a little, but not much 
 more tidy in his appearance than in the earlier hours of the 
 morning, opened the double doors of the dining-room, and 
 announced pompously that the signora contessa was served. 
 
 At the sound of his voice Countess Vitali turned from the 
 open window in which she had been standing. She was dressed 
 simply enough, and entirely in white ; a few red roses fastened in 
 the front of her dress being her only ornament. There could be 
 no doubt as to her beauty ; even if, as was asserted, that beauty 
 was of peasant rather than patrician type. Her features were 
 regular and classical. Broad, low brows, in which the sleepy- 
 looking brown eyes were set far apart ; a mouth that did not err 
 on the side of smallness, with lips full and curved j outlines of 
 form now statuesque, but likely to become coarse in a not far- 
 distant future — all these attributes of Countess Vitali lent some 
 colour to the criticisms passed by her neighbours on her good 
 looks. 
 
 Hers was in truth the type of face and form not seldom to be 
 met with among the peasantry around and south of Rome, the 
 possessors of which come to the city during the winter and spring 
 months to earn money as painters' or sculptors' models, or by 
 selling flowers, and other less innocent wares, to indiscreet 
 foreigners. A close observer of Countess Vitali would have 
 noted, also, another feature more common to peasant types of 
 beauty than to those of more refined origin — an occasional and 
 fleeting expression of countenance partly sensuous, but also partly 
 sinister, which seemed at once to fascinate and repel. 
 
 What the real origin of the Contessa Vitali's father might have 
 been, nobody was able to say very definitely. For many years 
 Giacomo Frezzi had been regarded as one of the most successful 
 among the leading dealers in agricultural produce and stock in 
 the Agro Romano.
 
 8 TEMPTATION 
 
 He was supposed to have a considerable capital, and it was 
 rumoured that he did not by any means confine his attentions to 
 his particular line of business only, but that he held in his hands 
 numerous narrow strips of paper, bearing the Government stamp, 
 to which were attached the signatures of some of the largest and 
 most influential landowners in the Roman province. Some 
 people declared that Giacomo Frezzi's father commenced his 
 career, and finished it, as a tender of pigs in the woods around 
 Norcia ; and that his boy, Giacomo, being a clever lad, had been 
 educated by the priests with a view to making him one of 
 themselves. 
 
 Whatever his origin might have been, the cavaliere Frezzi, as 
 he subsequently became, had made a position for himself, and at 
 one time had undoubtedly been a fairly wealthy man. He had 
 married, too, the daughter of a prominent member of Parliament, 
 who died soon after the birth of her only child, the future 
 Countess Vitali. 
 
 It was not unnaturally supposed, as the cavaliere Frezzi had 
 never taken a second wife, that Cristina Frezzi would bring a 
 considerable fortune to any man who married her. At an early 
 age the girl had been sent to a convent in Perugia to be educated, 
 and there she had remained until she was seventeen. At that 
 age the Mother Superior of the convent had frankly informed the 
 cavaliere Frezzi that, in her opinion, his daughter did not require 
 further instruction, but that she did require a husband. After 
 Cristina had been a short time at home, her father came to the 
 conclusion that the Mother Superior was presumably possessed 
 of wider psychological discernment than her calling would have 
 seemed to demand. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact, however, that various suitors had 
 asked the cavaliere's permission to pay their court to her, the 
 girl had shown no inclination to accept any one of them. 
 
 When she married, she told her father, she meant to marry 
 well. Those who had as yet come forward were of the same 
 class as herself ; but perhaps some other aspirant would one day 
 present himself who would be able to offer her a better position. 
 
 The aspirant in question did offer himself, in the person of
 
 TEMPTATION 9 
 
 Count Vitali, who, having frequent occasion to call on the 
 cavaliere Frezzi for business purposes, met Cristina at her father's 
 house and fell desperately in love with her. 
 
 The cavaliere Frezzi had every reason to suppose that his 
 daughter would have accepted Ugo Vitali even without a title. 
 Cristina, indeed, displayed symptoms entirely justifying the 
 Mother Superior's acumen. It was a fortunate thing, therefore, 
 that while gratifying her ambition, she could gratify other passions 
 as well. 
 
 Count Vitali was not, of course, of the alta nobilta : but he 
 was of an old family, the proprietor of a small, though productive 
 estate, and his wife would be a signora contessa. From another 
 point of view, moreover, and one which Cristina did not discuss, 
 he was young, strong, and decidedly good-looking ; and perhaps 
 a lover from the ranks of the alta nobilta would have been none 
 of the three. 
 
 Very shortly before the date fixed for the marriage, the 
 cavaliere Frezzi had experienced a serious reversal of fortune. 
 The failure of a great building syndicate in Rome had been 
 followed by the bankruptcy of a great Roman family deeply 
 concerned in it. Unluckily, the cavaliere Frezzi was a sufferer by 
 both disasters. He had invested largely in the shares of the 
 syndicate, and he had lent considerable sums of money to 
 the Roman prince, whose securities would now be worth little 
 more than the paper on which they were represented. 
 
 There were many quite ready to assume that, with the disappear- 
 ance of the greater part of his betrothed's fortune, Ugo Vitali 
 would break off all subsequent negotiations. Had he been a 
 Roman, he would very probably have done so without the smallest 
 scruple ; for, as the parents of more than one fiancee on the eve 
 of becoming a Roman princess have had occasion to realise, the 
 Roman noble is by no means above bargaining as to the 
 commercial and social value of his title, and endeavouring to get 
 a better price for it, up to the moment of signing his marriage 
 contract. 
 
 Being genuinely in love, however, and not being a Roman 
 prince selling his name in the American marriage market, Count
 
 10 TEMPTATION 
 
 Vitali had never for an instant contemplated withdrawal from his 
 position. His marriage with Cristina Frezzi had accordingly 
 taken place, notwithstanding the fact that a very few thousand 
 francs were all the cavaliere found himself able to produce as her 
 dowry. 
 
 Count Vitali was certainly not a rich man. He was, however, 
 in the fortunate position of having been an only child, and, con- 
 sequently, had inherited his property from his father unen- 
 cumbered by the claims of brothers and sisters upon it. Had his 
 wife brought him even a moderate fortune, this would have been 
 acceptable enough ; but when the cavaliere Frezzi had explained 
 that he would no longer be able to give his daughter the sum he 
 had originally named, Ugo had hastened to assure him that, in 
 wishing to marry Cristina, he had regarded her fortune as a 
 secondary consideration. 
 
 Needless to say, both the cavaliere and Cristina were relieved 
 at his attitude. With a good dowry added to her good looks, 
 Cristina might possibly have made a better marriage from a social 
 point of view ; but, as things turned out, to become the Contessa 
 Vitali was as much and more than could reasonably be expected. 
 
 For a year or so after her marriage Cristina had found no 
 reason to regret her decision. Her ambition for social position 
 had, it is true, for the time been gratified in a limited manner 
 only. The world into which her husband had been able to 
 introduce her was certainly not that world fifty miles away in 
 Rome which she had so often dreamed of entering. Nevertheless 
 she was contented. Other and softer passions than that of 
 ambition held her enthralled for the moment ; and the novelty of 
 being la signora contessa was pleasing, more especially in a 
 provincial district in which contesse were not numerous. 
 Unluckily, however, the sense of novelty consumes itself; and 
 Countess Vitali began to find that her new life was likely to prove 
 far more monotonous than she had anticipated. 
 
 Although she had carefully kept her aspirations in the back- 
 ground during the first year of her marriage, and, perhaps, had 
 scarcely realised that they were of so settled a character, she had 
 always nourished hopes of being able to prevail on her husband
 
 TEMPTATION 11 
 
 to give up his provincial life for one more in harmony with hef 
 desires. She had not realised how absorbed Ugo was in this 
 life; and it had taken her some little time to discover that his 
 love for her, great though it seemed to be, could not detach him 
 from surroundings and interests which had entered, as it were, 
 into his very nature. 
 
 When she did finally discover this fact, the knowledge became 
 a source of perpetual irritation. She saw herself condemned to 
 pass the remainder of her life in a narrow provincial circle of 
 which she had already begun to grow impatient, and, in her 
 heart, contemptuous. 
 
 Perhaps the restless meridional blood she inherited from her 
 mother, and the quick Sicilian wit that had brought her grand- 
 father to the front in the Chamber of Deputies, had made her 
 regard so limited a life as that which she saw before her with 
 a feeling little short of dismay. However this might be, 
 the evident impossibility of altering Ugo's mode of hfe, and 
 the conviction that her own existence must, therefore, be passed 
 in a small provincial town with little or no hope of ever pene- 
 trating into the great world beyond it, gradually created in 
 Cristina a sense of revolt against her destiny, which had pro- 
 duced as its first result some perplexity in her husband's mind, 
 and not a little bitterness in her own. 
 
 On hearing Taddeo announce breakfast, Countess Vitali was 
 about to ask him if the count had returned, when Ugo entered 
 the room. 
 
 He approached his wife with the air of one eager to impart a 
 piece of good news. 
 
 " They told me you did not wish to be disturbed, carissima," 
 he said, " or I should have come to your room an hour ago or 
 more. I have had a busy morning, and " 
 
 "So I perceive," Cristina answered, looking at his boots 
 which bore evident traces of a morning spent among the dusty 
 furrows of the vineyards. " You have not even had time to change 
 your clothes, and Taddeo has already announced breakfast." 
 
 Ugo laughed good-humouredly. " I apologise," he replied. 
 " Yes, I have come in from the fields in my working clothes, like
 
 12 TEMPTATION 
 
 a contadino ! but at least I have washed. Listen, Cristina, the 
 post came in just as I was going to change my clothes, and it 
 brought me a piece of news — you will never guess what an extra- 
 ordinary piece of news ! " 
 
 '* Let us go to breakfast," returned his wife. " As to the news, 
 I daresay I can wait for it. You have sold a horse, I suppose, 
 or you have bought some new machine for the farm " — and she 
 went before him into the adjoining room where the midday meal 
 was waiting for them. 
 
 They sat down at a broad, square table in the centre of the 
 dining-room — a large and finely proportioned apartment the 
 ceiling of which was vaulted, and covered with rapidly perishing 
 frescoes falsely attributed by local tradition to Zuccari. Taddeo 
 served the first course of the breakfast and afterwards proceeded 
 to fill their glasses from a flask of red wine, the produce of Ugo 
 Vitali's vineyards, and reserved for home consumption. 
 
 Ugo was in excellent spirits, as his wife could not help notic- 
 ing, and, moreover, appeared determined not to allow anything 
 to ruffle his good humour. There are few things more provoking, 
 under some circumstances, than an imperturbable state of good 
 temper, especially if displayed by a person with whom one is on 
 such intimate terms as to warrant, in one's own eyes, the right to 
 be annoying when so disposed; and Cristina resented her 
 husband's frame of mind accordingly. It was quite true that she 
 had slept badly ; and the result was that she felt more inclined 
 than usual to be unsympathetic if Ugo were going to talk about 
 his stock, or the condition of his vines. 
 
 She ate her spaghetti with a look of bored indifference on her 
 face, but this morning Ugo refused to see that there was anything 
 amiss. 
 
 " It is not a case of horses, or of machinery," he resumed 
 cheerfully ; " all the same, I expected to have heard from Prince 
 Odescalchi's agent at Bracciano as to whether he means to buy 
 that brood mare. Do you know, Cristina, I must go to Rome — 
 at once " 
 
 Countess Vitali lifted her eyes from her plate and flashed a 
 quick look of surprise at him.
 
 TEMPTATION 13 
 
 " To Rome ! " she repeated. " What can you have to do in 
 Rome ? " The words were simple enough ; and if sarcasm under- 
 lay them, it was lost upon her husband. 
 
 Ugo glanced at Taddeo. " I will tell you presently," he said, 
 helping himself liberally to a frittura of brains and artichokes 
 which had followed the spaghetti. " I have business there — im- 
 portant business. You will certainly never guess what it is, 
 Cristina, but when you hear, I think you will be pleased, and I 
 am sure you will be surprised. I was never so surprised in my 
 life as when I opened that letter." 
 
 Countess Vitali shrugged her shoulders slightly, but unmistak- 
 ably. " Do you mean to say that you must go to Rome to-day ? " 
 she asked. " It will not be possible for you to leave while 
 Fabrizio is here, and you know he comes to-morrow." 
 
 Count Vitali's face fell. " Diavolo ! " he ejaculated, " I 
 had forgotten all about him. But it does not matter. I will 
 telegraph to him not to come ; and besides, I shall see him in 
 Rome. I must go by the one o'clock train. Taddeo," he 
 added, " you can leave that dish on the table ; we will help our- 
 selves, and you can serve the cheese and the fruit when I ring." 
 
 " It seems," observed his wife, when the door had closed on 
 the old servant, " that you must really have something of import- 
 ance to tell me, since it cannot be discussed in Taddeo's 
 presence ! " 
 
 Ugo gave a sigh of relief. " It is not necessary that in less 
 than an hour's time all Viterbo should know that we have come 
 into a fortune," he said with a laugh. 
 
 Cristina laid down her knife and fork and stared at him. 
 
 " A fortune ? " she exclaimed. " What do you mean, Ugo ? " 
 
 " But precisely what I say, carissima ! This letter " — and he 
 drew it from his pocket as he spoke — " tells me that an old aunt 
 of my father — the Marchesa Santoro — died two or three days ago, 
 and has left me the whole of her fortune — something under a 
 million of francs, the lawyer declares. Imagine, the lawyer did 
 not even know where I lived ! which accounts for the delay in 
 communicating with me. The poor old lady has been buried by 
 this time. It is a great deal of money, Cristina."
 
 14 TEMPTATION 
 
 Countess Vitali drew in her breath with a quick gasp. " A great 
 deal of money," she repeated almost mechanically ; and then she 
 was silent for a space. "Forty thousand francs a year," she 
 said at length. " It will add forty thousand francs a year to your 
 income ! " 
 
 "Scarcely so much as that," returned Ugo. "There will be 
 the succession duty to be paid, and that will be heavy. Besides, 
 the lawyer says under a million. In any case, it will be a very 
 useful addition to our income, Cristina, and I shall be able to 
 carry out many improvements " 
 
 " But this Marchesa Santoro," interrupted Countess Vitali 
 abruptly, "you have never mentioned her, Ugo — and yet she 
 must have known you well to make you her heir ! " 
 
 " I have seen her once in my life," answered Ugo. " Many 
 years ago, when I was eighteen, I think, my father took me to 
 see her in Rome. I remember he and my mother used some- 
 times to talk about her and say that she was very eccentric and 
 would never allow any of her family to come near her. My father 
 always said she would leave all her money to the priests." 
 
 " She evidently had more sense than your father gave her 
 credit for having, Ugo mio," observed Countess Vitali, conciliatory 
 for the first time that morning. 
 
 " It is extraordinary that she should have thought of making 
 me her heir," said her husband, "though I believe she had 
 quarrelled with all her Santoro relations, and that my father was 
 the only one of her relatives she ever admitted inside her house. 
 As to the letter, you can read it for yourself, Cristina. I had to 
 read it a dozen times this morning before I could bring myself to 
 believe that there was no mistaking its meaning." 
 
 Countess Vitali took the letter, and read it. "It is clear 
 enough," she said. " Of course you must go to Rome, Ugo, and 
 have everything settled as soon as possible. I suppose that the 
 old lady could legally make you her heir — that there are no 
 Santoro relatives to contest the will?" 
 
 "Her husband was the last of his family," replied Ugo, "and 
 there were no children. Besides, I should think that the greater 
 part of this money represented the Marchesa's personal savings.
 
 TEMPTATION 15 
 
 She lived the hfe of a recluse, and probably did not spend a 
 quarter of her income." 
 
 " It is certainly a piece of good fortune," said his wife medi- 
 tatively. " We shall be able to live more in the world now, and 
 do more as other people do in our condition." 
 
 A look of annoyance passed across Count Vitali's face. " We 
 live on our own land," he said briefly. " I would not exchange 
 the life for any other, even if I could do so." 
 
 Cristina looked at him quickly with an expression that was at 
 once impatient and a little contemptuous. She seemed about 
 to reply, but suddenly checked herself, as though on reflection 
 she thought it better to leave unspoken the words that rose to 
 her lips. Apparently, too. Count Vitali had no desire to 
 continue a conversation that threatened to end in argument; 
 for he got up from his chair and rang the bell, which was 
 answered in due course by Taddeo's reappearance bringing with 
 him cheese, and fruit in the shape of a large dish of wild 
 strawberries. 
 
 The remainder of breakfast was eaten more or less in silence. 
 Countess Vitali was apparently engrossed by her own thoughts, 
 and replied to her husband's occasional observations in mono- 
 syllables. 
 
 Ugo was not a little puzzled by his wife's reception of his 
 good news. He felt that sudden sense of disappointment and 
 of mortification which we all of us are apt to feel when someone 
 we care for declines to enter into our happiness or our enthusiasm. 
 A less even-tempered man than Count Vitali would have been 
 angry, and would have shown his anger. As it was, however, 
 Ugo forgot to be angry. His mind was occupied in trying to 
 account for his wife's unsympathetic mood, and the comparative 
 indifference with which she appeared to regard so important a 
 change in their common fortune. 
 
 No doubt, he told himself, Cristina would have exhibited 
 more pleasure in this unexpected addition to their wealth were 
 it not for the disappointment over which he believed her to be 
 perpetually brooding. After all, he could sympathise to a 
 certain extent with her attitude; for, if they were to have no
 
 16 TEMPTATION 
 
 children to come after them, what was the particular advantage 
 of this increase of capital ? 
 
 As matters stood, were he, Ugo, to die without children, his 
 property and title would pass to his next of kin — his cousin 
 Fabrizio Vitali — who would certainly sell the lands, and probably 
 gamble away the proceeds in impossible speculations on the 
 Bourse. 
 
 But it was not in Count Vitali's nature to dwell at any length 
 on disagreeable reflections. He had assured himself so often of 
 late that his wife's capricious moods were due to her hitherto 
 ungratified desire to be a mother and to have in her life the 
 interests attendant on motherhood, that he was quite convinced 
 of the truth of his assurance. Unconsciously, too, he was glad 
 to be thus convinced. He realized, perhaps, that, were he 
 obliged to find some other explanation of the change which in 
 the last few months had come over Cristina, it might not be 
 of a nature to justify him in believing that at any moment the 
 cause of that change might disappear.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 npHE fortune left by the Marchesa Santoro proved to be even 
 -'- larger than Ugo Vitali had been led by that old lady's 
 lawyer to expect. 
 
 Capital representing a million of francs had been invested by 
 the marchesa in Italian rentes ; while, in addition to this sum 
 of money, it appeared that she was also the owner of several 
 houses in Rome which were let in tenements, at rentals amount- 
 ing in all to some forty thousand francs yearly. 
 
 The marchesa herself had occupied a small apartment on the 
 third floor in one of her own houses, in which she lived after 
 the fashion of a poverty-stricken widow. Her entire household 
 consisted of an old man and his wife, the latter acting in the 
 double capacity of cook and personal attendant ; while the 
 duties of the former included the performance of every other 
 domestic work needed in the establishment. 
 
 Count Vitali had certainly been correct in assuming that his 
 aged relative lived beneath her income. Comforts of every kind 
 had been rigorously banished from the marchesa's surroundings, 
 and only those acquainted with the interior arrangements of a 
 certain type of old-fashioned Italian establishment can realise to 
 what an extent the art of living uncomfortably can be cultivated. 
 
 Unlike many of her compatriots, however, the marchesa 
 Santoro had not lived in penury within doors in order to be 
 able to drive up and down the Corso, or round and round the 
 Pincio with a carriage and pair of horses. Her economies had 
 been practised, not with a view to spending the money saved 
 at the price of a lack of comfort in her home life almost 
 amounting to squalor, on outward and visible signs of affluence, 
 but because she was in fact something very near akin to a miser. 
 
 As Ugo Vitali had heard from his parents, the general 
 opinion of those who happened to know of the Marchesa 
 
 B 17
 
 18 TEMPTATION 
 
 Santoro's existence was that, being a devout woman who was 
 said to make herself more accessible to priests than she did to 
 her own belongings, she would in all probability leave her money 
 to some religious order. 
 
 The marchesa, however, was a shrewd woman of, though not 
 in the world. She was perfectly aware that, had she not the 
 reputation of having money to leave behind her, neither priests 
 nor laity would have displayed any particular desire to climb 
 three flights of steep stairs in order to visit an old woman. 
 Moreover, it was a libel on the clergy to assert that they did 
 visit her. As a matter of fact one priest only was in the habit 
 of climbing her staircase, and he was a worthy man who 
 certainly had no motive save that of old friendship for doing 
 so, and cherished no designs upon her money, either in his 
 own interests or in those of the Church. Indeed, as Count 
 Vitali had afterwards occasion to learn, he owed it to this 
 worthy ecclesiastic that the Marchesa Santoro had, a short time 
 before her death, made him her heir. 
 
 Her husband's family by his first wife had made many and 
 futile efforts to secure to themselves the marchesa's savings, 
 but had been skilfully kept at a distance by the simple ex- 
 pedients of receiving their proffered visits but rarely, and omitting 
 to answer letters. 
 
 Perhaps the marchesa contrasted in her own mind the 
 attitude adopted towards her by her nephew, Count Vitali, 
 Ugo's father, who had invariably waited to be summoned before 
 calling upon her, and who had only brought his son to see her 
 in response to her special request that he would do so. 
 
 However this might have been, it was certain that she had 
 no sooner realised the approach of a new state of existence into 
 which she would be unable to take her savings with her, than 
 she had readily accepted the suggestion of her old friend Don 
 Pietro, formerly parish priest of the village near her husband's 
 property, as to the justice and propriety of leaving her money to 
 her great-nephew, Count Ugo Vitali, who had decidedly not given 
 her cause to suspect him of any attempt to make up to her for 
 the sake of it.
 
 TEMPTATION 19 
 
 Ugo Vitali did not remain in Rome a day longer than was 
 absolutely necessary after arranging with the Marchesa Santoro's 
 lawyer the business details connected with his inheritance. 
 
 There was nothing to keep him in the capital, and much that 
 required his presence and attention at Viterbo. The city, with 
 its restless life and movement, had for him even less attraction 
 than it would have possessed for one of his peasants. The 
 peasant, at all events, would probably have been absorbed in a 
 sense of bewildered curiosity ; whereas his padrone, on the rare 
 occasions of his visits to Rome, only experienced the same 
 weary sense of dissatisfaction with his surroundings, and, con- 
 sequently, with himself, which was the invariable effect created 
 upon him by all large towns. 
 
 At Rome, as he had told Cristina he would do, he had seen 
 his cousin Fabrizio, and had explained to him the reason 
 necessitating his telegram begging him to postpone his visit to 
 Palazzo Vitali. Fabrizio Vitali had received the news of the 
 Marchesa Santoro's bequest with outward expressions of con- 
 gratulations and delight. Although he and Ugo were relatives, 
 they had seen comparatively little of one another. Fabrizio 
 Vitali, indeed, had nothing in common with his cousin, excepting 
 their family name. They were, moreover, cousins only in the 
 second degree. Nevertheless, Fabrizio was Ugo Vitali's nearest 
 of kin and would have the right to call himself Count Vitali 
 should Ugo die without legitimate issue. As it was, he allowed 
 himself to be called Count Fabrizio Vitali without demur, 
 especially by his creditors ; and although his visiting-cards did 
 not bear the title, his name on them was surmounted by a 
 count's nine-pointed coronet. 
 
 Like many other young men of his age and condition, Fabrizio 
 Vitali was what would be termed in England a rolling-stone. He 
 had been a university student, and was by way of earning his 
 livelihood as a lawyer ; but his profession was quite the last 
 thing which occupied his mind. Women and cards were more 
 attractive to him than the study of legal treatise ; while Piazza 
 Colonna and its vicinities were places he frequented far more 
 assiduously than he did the law courts at the Filippini.
 
 20 TEMPTATION 
 
 If Fabrizio had been ill lately, his malady had certainly not 
 been caused by over-work ; and when his doctor insisted on the 
 necessity of a change of air, a change of life was no doubt 
 what was meant to be prescribed. On several occasions his 
 cousin Ugo had invited him to spend a few days with him at 
 Viterbo, but Fabrizio's active dislike of the country had hitherto 
 caused him to assign professional engagements of a purely 
 imaginary nature as a cause for declining these invitations. 
 Like a certain well-known French character, the only fault he 
 had to find with towns was that they were surrounded by the 
 country. 
 
 Unfortunately it was still too early in the season to resort to 
 any of the watering-places and l>agm' he usually frequented when 
 Rome became deserted during the summer months; and this 
 being the case, Fabrizio had bethought himself of proposing a 
 visit to his cousin at Viterbo. He had consoled himself with 
 the reflection that, however boring life at Palazzo Vitali might 
 prove to be, he would at all events obtain his change of air 
 without having to pay for his board and lodging. 
 
 Moreover, there might possibly be some distractions to be 
 found even at Viterbo. He had yet to make the acquaintance 
 of Ugo's wife ; and he had heard from various sources that Ugo 
 had married a very good-looking woman. 
 
 Fabrizio had hitherto never allowed himself to dwell upon the 
 fact that he was Ugo's heir at law, since there was every reason 
 to suppose that he might at any moment cease to be so. Now, 
 however, he began to reflect that nearly three years had elapsed 
 since Ugo's marriage, and that as yet no children had appeared 
 upon the scene. He came to the conclusion that it would 
 certainly be as well to cultivate a closer acquaintance with him. 
 The knowledge, too, that his cousin had just inherited so con- 
 siderable a fortune from the Marchesa Santoro had certainly 
 not lessened his determination to endure the tedium of a country 
 visit which might be productive of future advantages. To be 
 sure, the difference in years between him and Ugo was but 
 trifling; but, as he told himself, one could never say what 
 eventualities might not occur. An accident — a fever — and he
 
 TEMPTATION 21 
 
 might find himself the owner of the Vitali acres around 
 Viterbo. 
 
 It was natural, perhaps, that Fabrizio Vitali's congratulations 
 on the piece of good luck which had befallen his cousin would 
 not have been entirely devoid of a feeling of envy. What, he 
 had wondered contemptuously, would Ugo be the better for so 
 large an addition to his income? Ugo himself had answered 
 the question, when Fabrizio had suggested that he would of 
 course now bring his wife to Rome during the winter and spring 
 months, instead of spending the whole year at Viterbo. 
 
 And Fabrizio, hearing his reply, had shrugged his shoulders, 
 and had thought regretfully of the different use to which he 
 would have devoted the old marchesa's legacy, had she left it 
 to him. After all, Ugo, in his ideas, was evidently not very far 
 removed from a peasant. It was not surprising, therefore, that 
 he should have married the daughter of a man who, if all accounts 
 were true, had begun life by herding pigs. 
 
 Doubtless Ugo's wife was perfectly happy in her provincial 
 surroundings — indeed she would probably be like a fish out of 
 water if removed from them. It would be amusing to see what 
 effect the society of a man of the world, such as he believed 
 himself to be, would have upon her, for it was unlikely that 
 there were many such at Viterbo. 
 
 When his cousin proposed that he should return with him to 
 Palazzo Vitali, Fabrizio accepted readily enough; and, as soon 
 as Ugo had been able to conclude the preliminary business 
 matters connected with the Marchesa Santoro's bequest, the two 
 left Rome together. 
 
 A very few hours passed in Ugo Vitali's company were sufficient 
 to enable Fabrizio to realise more fully than he had hitherto had 
 the opportunity of doing the frank and open nature of which his 
 cousin was possessed. This was something of a revelation to one 
 who, like Fabrizio, had spent by far the greater part of his life 
 within the walls of Rome. Like most Romans, he was accustomed 
 to look for a motive in the words, as in the actions of his friends 
 and acquaintances, and was, presumably from experience, more 
 prone to suspect evil than good in that motive.
 
 22 TEMPTATION 
 
 During the journey to Viterbo, while the train crawled across 
 the dreary wastes of the Campagna Romana — less dreary now 
 owing to the mantle of wild flowers donned for a brief space by 
 the rolling-plains stretching away to the blue haze shrouding the 
 Sabine mountains — Ugo Vitali discoursed to his companion 
 about his domestic affairs. On certain subjects the reticence 
 considered necessary among English people is not observed by 
 the Latin races, and Ugo did not hesitate to take his cousin 
 into his confidence concerning his wife's mortification at not 
 being already a mother. All that he said about Cristina added 
 to Fabrizio's curiosity. Had there been a third person present 
 in the compartment, and more especially had that third person 
 been an Anglo-Saxon, he might have thought that Count Vitali 
 was discussing matters relating rather to his stock than to his 
 wife. Fabrizio, however, regarded these confidences as perfectly 
 natural, and certainly not indelicate. Nevertheless he could 
 not help the thought that, under the circumstances, he was the 
 last person from whom his cousin could reasonably expect any 
 genuine sympathy with his grievances. Ugo's frankness, however, 
 was only another proof of his absolute simplicity of character, a 
 simplicity which merely served to convince Fabrizio that he was 
 in very truth nothing better than a campagnuolo.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 /^OUNTESS VITALI received her husband's kinsman with all 
 ^-^ due cordiality. As a matter of fact she would have 
 welcomed the appearance of any stranger within the gates of 
 Palazzo Vitali. If there be occasions when the presence of a 
 third person makes but poor company, there are unquestionably 
 periods in the lives of most couples, married or otherwise, when 
 such a presence becomes both convenient and desirable. 
 
 Ugo Vitali was agreeably surprised at his wife's attitude. 
 When he had left her, he had been not a little mortified at her 
 indifference concerning the unexpected piece of good fortune 
 that had befallen him ; while at the same time he had felt 
 vaguely dissatisfied with himself, inasmuch as he was apparently 
 unable to make her contented. 
 
 But, during his absence in Rome, Cristina appeared to have 
 recovered much of her former self. She displayed an interest, 
 and a wifely solicitude which Ugo had looked for in vain in the 
 course of the last year or so of his married life. Had these been 
 exhibited only in the presence of the newly arrived guest, Ugo 
 might have had just reason to doubt their being genuine. This, 
 however, did not prove to be the case; although Ugo, when 
 Cristina had welcomed his return with every sign of pleasure and 
 satisfaction, had been almost inclined to suspect that her 
 attitude was assumed in order to keep up an appearance of 
 domestic felicity before a stranger who was also a relative. 
 
 " But, caro mio," exclaimed Fabrizio on the first evening of his 
 arrival, when Countess Vitali had finally retired for the night, 
 leaving Ugo and him together, "your wife is charming — 
 absolutely charming ! I really do not see of what you have to 
 complain," he added laughingly. 
 
 Ugo lifted his eyebrows. " Complain ? " he repeated. " I did 
 not know I had complained."
 
 24 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Oh, well, not complained, exactly. That would be too strong 
 a term to employ. But you certainly led me to expect — some- 
 thing very different from the reality." 
 
 "Cristina is decidedly in better spirits than when I left her," — 
 Ugo observed thoughtfully. " I do not know what has happened 
 to make her more like her usual self. Perhaps it is your arrival, 
 Fabrizio." 
 
 " Let us hope not — at least, let us hope that the change is not 
 due to my arrival only," his cousin replied; "otherwise there 
 would certainly be a reaction before very long ! But seriously, 
 Ugo, you must have imagined the greater part of all you said to 
 me during our journey this afternoon. Cristina — I may call her 
 Cristina, of course ? — does not appear to me to be a discontented 
 woman. There is nothing in this world more tiresome than a 
 discontented woman. After all, the discontent generally proceeds 
 from a single cause." 
 
 " What cause ? " asked Ugo. 
 
 " The wrong man." 
 
 Ugo's face flushed. " That is a very cynical remark," he said, 
 with rather a constrained laugh. " If I had known you held so 
 poor an opinion of women, I should scarcely have ventured to tell 
 you that I feared Cristina was discontented. But please re- 
 member that I gave you quite another cause to account for her 
 being so ! " 
 
 Fabrizio lighted a cigarette, concealing a smile by the action. 
 
 "Husbands generally do find another cause," he thought; but 
 he did not give utterance to his thought. To say the truth, 
 Fabrizio Vitali was considerably astonished at finding his cousin's 
 wife altogether different from what he had imagined her to be. 
 He had been prepared to see a handsome though somewhat 
 vulgar woman — a woman who no doubt would be little at her 
 ease in the position, such as it was, to which her marriage had 
 raised her, and who would probably attempt to conceal the fact 
 by assuming a disagreeable manner. Ugo's conversation in the 
 train, and little remarks he had let fall one evening when they had 
 dined together in Rome, had tended to confirm his suppositions. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali was, at least so far as one side of his character
 
 TEMPTATION 25 
 
 was concerned, one of those young men whom modern Italy pro- 
 duces by the thousand, and the keynote to whose nature is a 
 supreme egoism. Of brains he had plenty; but of the self- 
 restraint engendered by discipline and enhanced by a sense of 
 personal responsibility he possessed little or none. 
 
 This last deficiency, however, could scarcely be said to be 
 entirely his own fault, since the Italian universities, in one of 
 which he had received the only mental training he had ever 
 experienced, have long ceased to retain any control over their so- 
 called students. These last, on the slightest opposition to their 
 wishes, organize a strike, or threaten the Ministry of Public 
 Instruction with their displeasure ; while the Government 
 trembles at their demonstrations and, instead of treating them 
 like unruly boys, flatters their sense of importance by calling out 
 the troops instead of employing less heroic remedies such as the 
 fire-hose. 
 
 Apart from his egoism, Fabrizio was by no means bad natured. 
 He was one of those people who, generally by their relatives, are 
 apt to be described as being nobody's enemy but their own — than 
 which nothing more damning can as a rule be said, even by uncles 
 and aunts possessing children. He had all that mental restlessness 
 so often to be found in the Latin races. Possessing just suflS- 
 cient artistic perception to incapacitate him for turning his life to 
 any practical account, he had neither energy nor perseverance 
 enough to enable him to pursue any branch of art seriously. 
 Such a nature, combined with a total lack of training, could hardly 
 fail to produce a character at once sceptical and material ; and 
 that of Fabrizio was both the one and the other. 
 
 The standard of that branch of social deportment usually 
 referred to as morals being so largely dependent on latitude and 
 longitude, it would have been hardly fair to assert that Fabrizio 
 was more immoral than the majority of other young men — or at 
 all events of other young Romans. 
 
 Religious belief he had none; and in this particular he pro- 
 bably only differed from most of his fellows in that he was honest 
 enough not to pretend to possess it. At intervals, and between 
 more frivolous occupations, he would read assiduously; and
 
 26 TEMPTATION 
 
 his favourite literature, though anything but spiritual in its 
 doctrine, was not at all of the kind he might have been expected 
 to select. Philosophers and poets were his preferred authors ; 
 and the more pessimistic the philosophy, the more melancholy 
 and despairing the poetry, the greater was the satisfaction he 
 derived from them. Nor were his philosophers and his poets 
 of the drawing-room and circulating library order. They were 
 neither fashionable, nor were their works ever bound with 
 trappings of sage green. He would pore over the pages of 
 Schopenhauer, of Nietzche, of Spencer and other masters of 
 thought, in translation ; while Leopardi, saddest of Italian 
 singers, was probably responsible for much of his inability to 
 grapple with the practical realities and necessities of everyday 
 life. 
 
 Both of Fabrizio Vitali's parents were deeply religious, and 
 his earlier youth had been spent in the most orthodox of sur- 
 roundings. His father died when Fabrizio was only seventeen ; 
 but his mother was still alive, and was, indeed, barely fifty. She, 
 poor lady, had long endeavoured to combat her son's materialism, 
 and regarded with justifiable horror the volumes she would find 
 lying about his rooms. As long as his age had allowed her to 
 do so, she had insisted on his conforming to the usages and 
 practices of the Church, and his earlier education had, therefore, 
 been conducted entirely under clerical control. The day had 
 come, however, as she had always foreseen it must, when active 
 interference became no longer possible ; but the passive opposi- 
 tion which she substituted for it was assuredly, if not more 
 efficacious, the more pathetic of the two. The Signora Vitali 
 would surreptitiously place pious books in her son's room as an 
 antidote to the subversive volumes she found there ; and some- 
 times she would hang a sacred picture on the walls, or some 
 object of devotion specially blessed by the Holy Father himself 
 to the statuette of Our Lady of Lourdes which she had with her 
 own hands put on a bracket over his bed. 
 
 Fabrizio never read the books ; but to remove any one of 
 the objects his mother had placed about him would have seemed 
 to him to be something akin to sacrilege — and who shall blame
 
 TEMPTATION 27 
 
 the Signora Vitali for trusting that their silent testimony to 
 things spiritual might one day find a road to her son's heart ? 
 
 In certain parts of Italy, it not unfrequently happens that 
 those about to commit an evil act will turn a picture of the 
 Madonna, or of their patron saint, to the wall, in order that the 
 personages these represent should not be offended by witnessing 
 a crime — a practice by no means confined to southern Italy, 
 but to which we most of us are apt to conform, albeit in a less 
 literal manner. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali did not, it is true, turn the face of Our Lady 
 of Lourdes to the wall. It is to be feared that he was too 
 deeply imbued with the spirit of positivist philosophy to have 
 for a moment thought such a proceeding necessary. The most 
 materially minded, however, are not always the least super- 
 stitious ; and Fabrizio had always refrained from interfering with 
 the presence of his mother's spiritual antidotes, not only because 
 he knew she would take it deeply to heart if he did so, but 
 also from a vague fear lest, should he banish them, some bad 
 luck might overtake him. 
 
 Signora Vitali had been more than gratified at Fabrizio's an- 
 nouncement that he was about to pay a visit to the head of 
 their family at Palazzo Vitali in Viterbo. The keeping of an 
 ever vigilant eye on the good things of the next world has not 
 always been found to be incompatible with a very natural de- 
 termination to obtain a fair share of the good things offered in 
 this state of existence j and Signora Vitali never forgot that 
 Fabrizio might at any moment find himself in his cousin's place. 
 She had often counselled him to improve his acquaintance with 
 Ugo Vitali, but hitherto Fabrizio's aversion from the country 
 had outweighed all her arguments. 
 
 Fabrizio had passed his first evening at Palazzo Vitali pleasantly 
 enough. Ugo, who was delighted at the change he found in his 
 wife's demeanour, was in excellent spirits, while Cristina had 
 listened with evident eagerness to all Fabrizio had to tell them 
 concerning the social life of Rome, and the scandals in that 
 portion of Roman society in which he perhaps led his cousins 
 to believe he was more at home than was actually the case. It
 
 28 TEMPTATION 
 
 is always encouraging to self-placency, though scarcely as much 
 so to strict veracity, to feel that one is being agreeable — and 
 during dinner that evening Fabrizio was conscious of making a 
 distinctly favourable impression on both his host and his 
 hostess. 
 
 His topics of conversation, indeed, were often beyond the 
 range of Ugo's experiences in life, and Count Vitali's face would 
 occasionally wear a puzzled expression as though he were wonder- 
 ing what his guest was talking about. It was not so, however, 
 with Countess Vitali. Although she had as little or less ex- 
 perience of the world of society, any one possessing far less 
 observation than did Fabrizio would have at once realised that, 
 in her case, imagination and a lively interest supplied the place 
 of such experience. 
 
 The hours kept at Palazzo Vitali were early, and altogether 
 different from those Fabrizio was accustomed to keep in Rome. 
 Ugo Vitali, who was always out of doors by six o'clock at the 
 latest on summer mornings, and often earlier, had the best of 
 reasons for not liking to be late in going to bed. At a time, 
 therefore, when Fabrizio was usually wondering how he should 
 employ the remainder of his evening, his host, after several 
 yawns that he was at no pains to conceal, proceeded to light 
 a couple of candles, and suggested that he should show him the 
 way to his bedroom. To reach it the two had to traverse the 
 long suite of unused rooms on the piano nobile which had 
 been the state apartments of their common ancestor (if the 
 term can be applied to a Roman ecclesiastic without injury to 
 his reputation). Cardinal Vitali. 
 
 The feeble light from the candles only served to make the 
 rooms appear larger and more deserted ; and the footsteps of the 
 two men as they passed across the uncarpeted marble floors 
 re-echoed dully under the lofty, vaulted ceilings. Notwithstanding 
 the warmth of the summer night without, the atmosphere around 
 them felt chill and damp, and Fabrizio shivered a little as he 
 followed his cousin's lead. 
 
 Suddenly Ugo paused and looked round. " Nothing short of a 
 fircj or some similar disaster, would induce Taddeo or any of the
 
 TEMPTATION 29 
 
 people on the place to pass through these rooms alone at night," 
 he said, with a smile. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. "Does the cardinal revisit them in the 
 spirit ? " he asked. 
 
 " No — not the cardinal. He, no doubt, has been safely in 
 Paradise years ago ! But, all the same, the people will have it 
 that these rooms are haunted." 
 
 Sciocchezze ! " observed Fabrizio contemptuously. When one 
 is anxious to convince oneself that one has sprung from nothing, 
 and will return to nothing, ghosts and their doings cease to be 
 interesting and become merely irritating. 
 
 " Altro che sciocchezze ! " agreed Ugo. He was as convinced 
 a Catholic as his cousin was the reverse ; but, like the majority of 
 Italians, he had no belief in the so-called supernatural, apart from 
 that implied by his religious faith, and inculcated by the dogmas 
 and traditions of the Church. 
 
 " Of course," he repeated, " it is all nonsense. But the people 
 insist that Donna Giulia's spirit haunts these rooms." 
 
 " Donna Giulia ? " 
 
 "Our ancestress, Giulia Maidalchini, who married the Count 
 Vitali of the day. Did you never hear of her ? " added Ugo. 
 
 "I knew we had Maidalchini blood in our veins," replied 
 Fabrizzio. " It is not much to be proud of, I am afraid ! She was 
 a sister of the famous Donna Olimpia, was she not ? " 
 
 " Precisely. As you say, it is not much to be proud of. That 
 is supposed to be a portrait of her," and Ugo pointed to a half- 
 length picture of a woman whose heavy and somewhat coarse 
 features bore a decided resemblance to those in portraits of the 
 formidable sister-in-law of Pope Innocent X., Donna Olimpia 
 Pamphili. 
 
 "She is said to have poisoned her husband's elder brother," 
 continued Ugo, "who was also reported to be her lover. It is 
 not a pretty story." 
 
 " Surely, under the circumstances, she would have been wiser to 
 poison her husband ! " observed Fabrizio. 
 
 "The lover had become tiresome. Besides, money entered 
 into the matter — and I am afraid her husband was, if not the in-
 
 30 TEMPTATION 
 
 stigator of the crime, at all events the gainer by it. He had 
 discovered the intimacy ; and, together with the Maidalchini 
 family, resorted to the plan of getting rid of his brother and 
 suppressing any scandal by compelling Donna Giulia to poison 
 him. Apparently, she had already grown tired of her lover, so 
 was the more ready to agree to the proposal." 
 
 " The husband must have been a courageous man to continue 
 to live with her," remarked Fabrizio. 
 
 Ugo laughed. "You must remember that she was a 
 Maidalchini. He probably could not afford to quarrel with his 
 wife's family while her sister, Donna Olimpia Pamphili, reigned in 
 the Vatican. We were bigger people in those days than we 
 are now, Fabrizio, and had larger possessions, more worth 
 confiscating." 
 
 " And so Donna Giulia revisits the scene of her crimes," said 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 Count Vitali shrugged his shoulders. "The people say so," he 
 replied. " Taddeo would declare to you that he has heard the 
 rustle of her dress as she passed him. He has never, at any rate 
 to me, gone so far as to say he had actually seen her." 
 
 A haunted house is so rare a thing in Italy as to be almost 
 singular ; possibly because the State religion, inherited from the 
 times we contemptuously dismiss as "pagan," has afforded a 
 wider range among the things not of this world than that supplied 
 in later days by Protestant creeds. The Reformation is probably 
 responsible for many ghosts. 
 
 The supposed apparition of Donna Giulia, who had been in 
 her grave two hundred and fifty years and more, interested 
 neither of her descendants; while her story was, after all, only 
 one among many similar domestic occurrences common to life 
 in the Middle Ages. 
 
 They had reached the room assigned to Fabrizio by this time, 
 and Ugo, after seeing that everything had been prepared for his 
 guest's convenience, wished him good night. 
 
 "You will not see me until breakfast to-morrow," he said, 
 " and when you want your coffee brought to you, you have only 
 to ring. Taddeo will look after you, and no doubt Cristina
 
 TEMPTATION 31 
 
 will appear by ten o'clock or so and show you about the 
 place." 
 
 " And you ? " asked P'abrizio. 
 
 " Oh, I have an infinity of things to do in the morning, and 
 must be up before sunrise. These days in Rome have been a 
 terrible waste of time ! " 
 
 "I do not call coming in to a million of francs a waste of 
 time," said Fabrizio, laughing. "I should be very glad if 
 somebody would show me the way to spend my time in Rome 
 as profitably ! " 
 
 "When I have taken you round the land," observed Ugo, 
 gravely, " you will see for yourself that there is plenty to be 
 done with the interest on a million of francs." 
 
 After wishing his cousin good night again, he left the room, 
 and Fabrizio proceeded to arrange his things previous to going 
 to bed. He had only had time to wash, and change his clothes 
 before dinner, and had it not been for Ugo's escort would 
 certainly not have been able to find his way again to his room. 
 Now, however, he had ample leisure to look about him, and to 
 examine the arrangements of his sleeping-apartment. These 
 arrangements were simple and almost primitive. Of comfort 
 there was very little ; but of space there was plenty. By degrees 
 Fabrizio became conscious of something about him that he 
 could not describe even to himself. It was only after some 
 little time had passed that he realised what it was that he felt 
 to be all around him, and knew it to be nothing more tangible 
 than the deep silence of the country at night ; a silence to which 
 he was so little accustomed. He opened one of the windows 
 and looked out of it. The room looked on to the gardens at 
 the back of the palace, and these lay bathed in the light of a 
 May moon that was almost at the full. The nightingales were 
 silent, as they sometimes are in Italy when the moon is at her 
 height, and only the occasional cry of an owl broke the intense 
 stillness. In the black shade of the cypresses fire-flies were 
 flitting to and fro, and away beyond the gardens a shimmering 
 haze of silvery light partially veiled the vineyards and cornfields 
 stretching away to the faint outlines of the Ciminian hills.
 
 32 TEMPTATION 
 
 A scent of roses, of orange blossom, and half a score of other 
 perfumes of an Italian summer's night floated into the room 
 through the open window ; and if there was silence, it was that 
 of Nature sleeping through the short hours before the summer 
 sun should rise again — than which there is no sweeter music for 
 those who have ears to hear it. 
 
 Fabrizio, however, noticed none of these things, The stillness 
 oppressed, and almost irritated him. He would have felt relieved 
 to hear the rattle of carriage wheels, or the cries of the hawkers 
 of the evening newspapers in the streets. He closed the window 
 impatiently and recommenced arranging his things, extracting 
 from his dressing-bag one of his favourite books, with which he 
 hoped to read himself to sleep. Two pairs of inferior wax 
 candles scarcely served to light more than a small portion of the 
 long and lofty room, and the corner of it in which the bed was 
 placed lay in deep shadow. Fabrizio took one of the candles 
 and advanced towards the bed, intending to leave the book 
 beside it. Suddenly he started back with an exclamation of 
 dismay. Lying on the pillow was a black crucifix, the white 
 ivory Christ being concealed beneath the cross. Notwithstanding 
 all his materialism, a shudder of horror swept through him ; for a 
 cross to be where it should not is in Italy a sign of ill omen, if 
 not of death. Recovering himself quickly, Fabrizio approached 
 the bed, saying to himself that he must surely be mistaken — that 
 in the dim light he had imagined some article accidentally left 
 on the bed to be a cross. But there was no mistake. The 
 emblem of a faith he did not scorn, indeed, but treated with 
 indifference lay there, where he had been about to lay his 
 head. At that moment Fabrizio did not remember that the 
 crucifix was an emblem of the faith he had abandoned so much 
 as the fact that a cross was a portent of the worst possible 
 kind. 
 
 At any rate, the thing should not lie there — nor would he lie 
 where it had been. Stooping down, he lifted the crucifix and, 
 as he did so, his glance fell on a mark on the wall immedi- 
 ately above the head of the bedstead. A small piece of plaster 
 had given way, bringing with it the nail on which the crucifix
 
 TEMPTATION 33 
 
 had hung, while the crucifix itself had fallen face downwards on 
 the pillow immediately beneath. 
 
 If the explanation of its presence there was simple, this did not, 
 in Fabrizio's eyes, remove the mal migurio of such an accident. 
 Sleep, if indeed sleep should come to him that night, where the 
 evil omen had fallen he would not ; and, after placing the crucifix 
 in a drawer, so that he should no longer be able to see it, he 
 proceeded to make himself as comfortable as was possible on an 
 old-fashioned sofa at the further end of the room. It was in vain 
 that he tried to distract his thoughts by reading. The very 
 silence seemed to render them more rebellious to his will. His 
 mind reverted to Donna GiuHa Vitali. What if it had been her 
 evil spirit which had torn the crucifix from its place and put it 
 where he had found it? Storie ! Sciocchezze ! — and Fabrizio 
 laughed at himself for his weakness in permitting ideas so contrary 
 to his theories to disturb him. 
 
 And after some hours, sleep, restless, and broken by dreams, 
 came to him. 
 
 He dreamed, among other things, that Donna Giulia was 
 always near him, now tempting him with words and gestures of 
 love — now threatening him with revenge for some unknown 
 crime he himself had committed. Sometimes he saw her as she 
 was in the portrait Ugo had shown him — a woman no longer 
 young, and not particularly attractive ; sometimes, again, the 
 heavy features would change into those of his cousin's wife, 
 Cristina VitaH, Throughout his dreams he was conscious of one 
 leading and predominant sensation. He seemed to be entangled 
 in the meshes of a baneful influence from which he sought in 
 vain to extricate himself. Gradually but surely he felt himself 
 being surrounded by this evil thing which attracted and fascinated 
 him even while he hated it. He knew that it was drawing him 
 on, step by step, action by action, to some disaster unforeseen 
 and yet ever threatening, and that he was powerless to offer any 
 effective resistance against it — nay, that he himself was aiding it 
 to encompass its own ends. Presently, in the midst of his 
 impotent struggles to free himself from this unknown terror, 
 somebody told him that Ugo was dead, and that he was Count
 
 34 TEMPTATION 
 
 Vitali and the owner of all Ugo's property. Then Donna 
 Giulia bent over him, and he felt her arms round him and heard 
 her laugh. " You killed him ! " she whispered in his ear, and 
 laughed again. And as he looked at her he saw that it was not 
 Donna Giulia but Cristina who was by his side. And then, with 
 a cry of horrified protest on his lips, he awoke to find Taddeo 
 engaged in opening the windows of his room and letting in the 
 pure, sweet air of a summer morning.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TX THEN Fabrizio left his room that morning, he found 
 ' ' Countess VitaH awaiting him. She was sitting under the 
 shade of a large magnolia tree at the end of the terrace im- 
 mediately beneath the house, and rose to meet him as he emerged 
 from the courtyard. 
 
 The prosaic incidents attending his morning toilette, followed 
 by a light preparatory breakfast of coffee and a roll, had done 
 much to restore Fabrizio to equanimity. If he could not 
 altogether shake off the unpleasant impression made upon him 
 by the ill-omened occurrence of the night before, he was at all 
 events able to laugh at himself for having allowed bad dreams to 
 create such an effect upon his nerves. 
 
 With a brilliant blue sky overhead, the sun shining on masses 
 of roses around him, and a gentle, refreshing breeze just stirring 
 the tops of the cypress trees, it was difficult to believe that life 
 contained any such terrors as those which had surrounded him 
 in his dreams a few short hours ago. 
 
 In his waking moments Fabrizio had almost decided that he 
 would plead some excuse to his cousins and return to Rome that 
 very day. Nothing, he had said to himself, should induce him 
 to remain any longer in a house where so bad an omen had 
 befallen him. This feeling had soon passed, however, when his 
 mind had arrived at a condition in which argument with himself 
 became possible. The purely natural circumstances under which 
 the crucifix had come to be in a position so unpleasantly 
 suggestive of a death-bed could not be over-looked, while the 
 dreams soon lost their intensity, and assumed, under calmer 
 examination, the more reasonable proportions of a nightmare. 
 
 It was evident, however, that his recent experiences had left 
 some trace of themselves, even if these were only such as might 
 be produced by a disturbed night. Countess Vitali, as he wished 
 
 35
 
 36 TEMPTATION 
 
 her good morning, looked at him enquiringly, and after a 
 moment's pause expressed her fear that he was not feeling so 
 well as he had evidently felt the evening before. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed, and assured his hostess that he felt quite as 
 well as he had been feeling lately, and that she must not think 
 that he had a relapse and was going to be ill in her house. 
 
 " I am not accustomed to the quiet of the country," he said, 
 " and I slept badly in consequence. A ' beater of the pave- 
 ments ' like myself misses the noises of a town, and I confess 
 that your country stillness got upon my nerves last night. No 
 doubt I shall be more accustomed to it by to-morrow evening." 
 
 Cristina smiled. " I have always been accustomed to it," she 
 said drily. " Ugo," she added, "as you will have gathered, is 
 miserable in a town — so, except during our honeymoon when he 
 took me to Naples, I have had no opportunity of being 
 otherwise ! " 
 
 " And you liked Naples ? " asked Fabrizio. 
 
 Cristina clapped her hands together. " If I liked Naples ! " 
 she exclaimed. " I adored it. I saw life. Here I only see " 
 
 " Ugo," interposed Fabrizio. 
 
 "Sicuro! I see Ugo. That is as it should be, since I am 
 married to him, and you must not think that I complain of it. 
 Certainly not ! all the same, country life is a little monotonous 
 when one has nothing else. That is the advantage you men 
 have — you can go where you like and when you like." 
 
 " But, my dear cousin, Ugo is a man, is he not ? " 
 
 " Indisputably ! " returned Countess Vitali, laughing, " but Ugo 
 is not as other men are. He is quite content to be in his fields, 
 with his peasants and his tiresome horses and cattle. I, who was 
 brought up in a convent, hate horses and cattle — they frighten 
 me." 
 
 " Men are apt to be much more dangerous," observed Fabrizio, 
 pulling his moustache. 
 
 Cristina Vitali gave him a quick glance. " Proprio ? " she said, 
 laughing, "my experience of them, as I have told you, is limited." 
 
 " Ugo should take you to Rome." 
 
 *' Magari l" replied Cristina, "I have often told him so, but
 
 TEMPTATION 37 
 
 he laughs at me. Ugo is very proud, although I daresay you 
 would not believe it. Probably he would not believe it himself; 
 but it is true, all the same. He thinks people would despise us 
 in Rome because we are provincials." 
 
 " That is absurd," returned Fabrizio. " They would only have 
 to see you — " and he paused expressively. 
 
 " Besides," continued Countess Vitali, ignoring the implied 
 compliment, " he says that we have not enough money to compete 
 with your Roman nobles. But why should I bore you with our 
 little differences of opinion? they are, after all, very trifling 
 matters." 
 
 " But you do not bore me at all ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Do 
 you know," he added, " that all the time I was talking to you at 
 dinner last evening I was thinking what a pity it was that you 
 should shut yourself up at Viterbo ? You should talk seriously 
 to Ugo." 
 
 " And if he will not listen ? " 
 
 " A woman is always listened to." 
 
 ** Is she ? In the world, perhaps, but not in Palazzo Vitali," 
 returned Cristina. " Ugo has no ambition," she continued, 
 " but absolutely none ! Ah, if I were a man, I would not be 
 content with watching my crops grow ! " 
 
 Cristina's eyes flashed and her whole person became more 
 animated as she spoke. Fabrizio watched her curiously. She was 
 certainly a beautiful woman, he thought — but not a very high-bred 
 one ; and when she became excited, the want of breeding showed 
 itself. He had seen enough of the women in that society he had 
 discoursed of the previous evening to realise this. It did not 
 detract from her beauty, however; and, in his eyes, perhaps it 
 rather added to her attraction. It was evident that Ugo had not 
 been mistaken in believing his wife to be discontented, though 
 Fabrizio doubted more than ever whether the reason he had 
 assigned for her discontent was the correct one. He had 
 promised to himself some amusement in seeking out the weak 
 places in his cousins' menage, and apparently he was in a fair 
 way to obtain that amusement. He had not expected, certainly, 
 that Countess Vitali would be so expansive at the very commence-
 
 38 TEMPTATION 
 
 ment of his visit ; but, as she appeared to be not indisposed to 
 make him the confidant of her grievances, he was more than 
 ready to encourage her to do so. It is always gratifying to a man 
 to be the recipient of a woman's confidences ; and when that 
 woman happens to be good-looking it becomes a positive pleasure 
 to hsten to them, 
 
 " What would you do — if you were a man ? " Fabrizio asked, 
 after a pause. 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. "Since I am not a man, it 
 is useless to answer that question," she said. " Let us talk of 
 something else," she added abruptly, " about yourself, for instance. 
 Ugo tells me that you are a terrible heretic — a Protestant, or 
 something of the sort. It must be very interesting to have a 
 religion of one's own, instead of believing what the priests tell 
 one." 
 
 "But I have no religion," Fabrizio replied. "I am a 
 positivist." 
 
 "What is a positivist ?" inquired Countess Vitali. "Is he a 
 person who flies in a rage if he sees a crucifix hanging above 
 his bed, and pulls it down ? " 
 
 Fabrizio started. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed, look- 
 ing at her in surprise. 
 
 " But you must know very well what I mean. You have 
 caused an enormous scandal in the household. Taddeo rushed 
 downstairs after bringing you your coffee this morning declaring 
 that you must be the devil, or a freemason at the very least ! 
 He told my maid that you had wrenched the Christ from the wall 
 above your bed and thrown him away — out of the window. 
 Did you ? " 
 
 In spite of his surprise and some annoyance that the incident 
 of last night should have reached Cristina's ears, Fabrizio burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 " 1 found the crucifix on my bed," he said. " It had evidently 
 fallen. The nail, I suppose, had given way." 
 
 It was Cristina who started this time. " Madonna mia ! " she 
 ejaculated, " what a horrible thing ! — luckily, as you do not 
 believe in anything, you are not superstitious ; otherwise it
 
 TEMPTATION 39 
 
 would be a brutto augurio. But did you throw it out of the 
 window ? " 
 
 " Of course not ! I confess that, for the moment, it gave me a 
 shock to find it on my bed. It looked horribly suggestive, you 
 know. But I did not throw it out of the window. I put it in a 
 drawer, as — as I did not want it always before my eyes to remind 
 me of bad omens." 
 
 Countess Vitali looked grave. " It was a dreadful thing to 
 happen," she said. " I am glad it did not happen to me. I 
 should be terrified for months to come. But for you, of course, 
 it does not matter — you are above such weaknesses." 
 
 Fabrizio gave a constrained laugh. " We can never quite get rid 
 of our childish superstitions," he remarked. "It will take many 
 generations to free the human race from the yoke of hereditary 
 traditions which only the enlightened know to be absurd." 
 
 Cristina did not reply for a moment. Probably she would not 
 have understood Fabrizio's observation even if she had heard it — 
 and this seemed to be doubtful, for her face wore a pre- 
 occupied expression. 
 
 " Do not tell Ugo," she said, at length. " He is not like you. 
 He is what I suppose you would call very superstitious, that is, 
 he is a strong clerical, and believes all the priests wish us to 
 believe." 
 
 *' And you ? " asked Fabrizio, " do you also believe all the 
 priests wish you to believe ? " 
 
 Cristina laughed. " Che ! " she replied. " I was brought up 
 in a convent, as I have told you — so I know how much they 
 believe themselves ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed also. " It seems, then, that we agree on 
 certain points," he observed. " But I do not see why Ugo should 
 not be told about the crucifix," he continued. " I had intended 
 to say nothing about it ; but as you had heard of its disappear- 
 ance from the servants, there was no reason for me not to talk of 
 it. Ugo will be sure to hear of it in the same way." 
 
 " Not now that you are exonerated from having committed a 
 sacrilege," replied Countess Vitali. " I shall tell Taddeo what 
 really happened, and the excitement among the servants will
 
 40 TEMPTATION 
 
 subside. As to Ugo, he would be very uneasy if he knew that 
 such a bad omen had happened in the house. Moreover, you 
 have Donna GiuUa's room " 
 
 " Donna GiuUa's room ! " repeated Fabrizio, and his face fell 
 suddenly in spite of his effort to appear indifferent. 
 
 " You know the story," proceeded Cristina. " But of course you 
 do, as you are one of the family. Yes — the room you have is 
 said to have been hers. You shall see her picture. She does 
 not appear to have been a very attractive woman — though her 
 brother-in-law is said to have thought otherwise." 
 
 " I have seen the picture," said Fabrizio. "Ugo showed it to 
 me last night. He told me her story. As he says, it is not a 
 pretty story." 
 
 *' No," remarked Cristina thoughtfully ; " but very probably we 
 do not know her version of it. Perhaps," she continued, "you 
 would like to be moved into another room ? You were put into 
 Donna Giulia's because it is a little more comfortable than the 
 other bedrooms in this old barrack. If you are afraid of seeing 
 your ancestress, however, it is very easy to change your quarters." 
 
 Fabrizio glanced at her quickly. He fancied that he detected 
 the faintest possible tone of mockery in her voice. Like most 
 amateur explorers in the regions of philosophic doubt, he was 
 extremely afraid of being considered to be half-hearted in his 
 allegiance to his new masters. How excellent and desirable a 
 thing would it be if it were possible for the works of great minds 
 to be written with a view to the fact that minds infinitely smaller 
 read and interpret them ! 
 
 If a little learning be a dangerous thing, dabbling in the higher 
 branches of philosophical research is apt to be positively perilous 
 to any but the strongest natures ; and Fabrizio Vitali was only 
 one among the multitude of dabblers existing not in Italy alone, 
 but in the world generally. He was under the firm impression 
 that he had grasped the fruits of his philosophers ; but he was 
 unable to realise, or even to suspect that he was incompetent, by 
 reason of an undisciplined mind, to pluck any except those within 
 the reach of ordinary mortals — these last being seldom the ripest. 
 
 " Please do not think of moving me," he said hastily, in reply
 
 TEMPTATION 41 
 
 to Cristina's suggestion. " I hope you do not think that I am so 
 weak as to be alarmed at such a trifle as a bit of wood and ivory 
 falling from a wall on to my bed ! I admit that I would rather 
 the bit of wood had not happened to be in the shape of a cross ; 
 but that is merely foolish prejudice, and I am already heartily 
 ashamed of myself for having paid any attention to the incident. 
 As to Donna Giulia, I should be delighted to make her acquaint- 
 ance, if she chooses to visit me ! Perhaps I should then learn 
 her version of the story." 
 
 " As you please," said Countess Vitali indifferently. " I thought 
 you were frightened." 
 
 "And I believe you think so still!" exclaimed Fabrizio 
 angrily. 
 
 Cristina Vitali laughed — a low, and rather malicious laugh. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " I think so still. Indeed, I am sure 
 of it ! " 
 
 "Perbacco ! but if I tell you that I am not? Do you suppose 
 that I believe in omens — or in spirits? As to spirits, I can 
 understand those who flatter themselves that they possess an 
 immortal soul believing in them " 
 
 "But you do not flatter yourself that you possess any such 
 thing, then ? " interrupted Countess Vitali, looking at him 
 curiously. 
 
 " Of course not ! This being the case, how can you suppose 
 that I have any expectation of making the spiritual acquaintance 
 of Donna GiuHa Vitali ? " 
 
 " Do you know," said Cristina meditatively, " that interests 
 me. I am aware, of course, that there are many people in the 
 world who think as you do, but I have never before had the 
 opportunity of talking to one of them. According to your theory, 
 then, it does not matter what we do in this life. It must be all 
 the same thing in the end." 
 
 " What we do matters to society — I mean society in the large 
 sense of the term — not to ourselves individually. It cannot affect 
 our future — as we have all been brought up to believe it will do. 
 Since we have had no past, why should we assume that we have 
 a future ? "
 
 42 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Then," said Cristina, " we are all very foolish not to enjoy 
 ourselves as much as we can while we have a chance ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " Undoubtedly," he said. " That is true 
 philosophy." 
 
 " Philosophy is a much simpler thing than I thought it was," 
 observed Cristina. 
 
 " Scusi — but it is not simple at all ! The world is still far too 
 prejudiced, and far too much under the influence of ancient 
 myths to allow of its being so. It is a perpetual battle against 
 ignorance and the reactionary forces of Christianity." 
 
 " Per caritk ! " said Cristina, " do not discuss these things 
 before Ugo, he would be horribly scandalised ! You must 
 reserve them for me." 
 
 " But I have no wish to scandalise you ! " Fabrizio returned 
 quickly. 
 
 "Oh, as to me, I rather share your views — only I am not 
 clever enough to be able to express them as you do. Besides, I 
 have to keep my opinions to myself. That is one of the dis- 
 advantages of being a woman." 
 
 " You must admit that it is not every woman who succeeds in 
 keeping her opinion to herself ! " remarked Fabrizio drily. 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Cristina, laughing, " it is delightful to talk 
 to you ! Ugo would never have thought of saying such a thing, 
 he is too matter of fact. But you are wrong. Women are much 
 more secret than men. I believe that you have never known a 
 woman well. Perhaps it has not entered into your philosophy to 
 do so ! " 
 
 " Oh, as to that," replied Fabrizio complacently, " I have had 
 as much experience of women as most men, I imagine. Do not, 
 however, think me impertinent if I confess that you are a surprise 
 to me ! " 
 
 "A surprise?" 
 
 " But certainly — a surprise. I had imagined somebody very 
 different. Oh, I did not mean in looks, of course ; I was pre- 
 pared for what I find in that respect, and I am certainly not 
 disappointed ! " 
 
 An Italian of a certain category can rarely talk to a woman
 
 TEMPTATION 43 
 
 without considering it necessary to pay compliments to her ; and 
 Fabrizio was no exception to the rule. 
 
 "I wonder what kind of individual you expected to find," 
 observed Countess Vitali. 
 
 " I hardly know. It is a little difficult to tell you. I think I 
 had expected to find a person who did not possess your evident 
 interest in Hfe and its problems, for one thing." 
 
 Cristina laughed — a not very pleasant laugh — and from under 
 her broad level brows flashed the peasant look, half-defiant and 
 half-suspicious. " It is possible to take interest in things with 
 which one has very little chance of becoming acquainted, except 
 from the outside ! " she said. " But from whom did you receive 
 your impressions of me ? — from Ugo, I suppose ! " 
 
 " He certainly led me to expect a different sort of character 
 from that which I am sure you possess," said Fabrizio, with a 
 smile. " But," he added cautiously, " no doubt Ugo was quite 
 unconscious of doing so. You say yourself that he has very 
 orthodox views on certain subjects, and that he looks at life from 
 a peculiar standpoint of his own. Probably, therefore, he is 
 honestly unable to realise your standpoint. It may never even 
 occur to him that you have so different a one. It is only 
 sympathy which enables two people to know by intuition each 
 other's mental attitude towards such subjects as those we have 
 touched upon." 
 
 " Altro ! " assented Countess Vitali. " Do you suppose I 
 have not long ago realised that ? " 
 
 "If you have not," said Fabrizio in a low voice, "you must 
 surely realise it now ! What has it been but sympathy which 
 has enabled us — strangers until last night — to discuss the things 
 we have been discussing ? " 
 
 Cristina slowly dissected a crimson rose she had pulled from a 
 bunch she was wearing, and watched its petals falling on the 
 grey stones of the terrace. Fabrizio watched her. He was not 
 sure whether she was offended or flattered by his words, for her 
 face told him nothing. 
 
 At length she looked up, and, as she was about to answer, 
 suddenly checked herself. Fabrizio, who was sitting with his
 
 44 TEMPTATION 
 
 back to the fagade of the palace, turned round to follow the 
 direction of her gaze. The expression that came into her eyes, 
 and the almost sullen look that settled on her face had attracted 
 his attention. 
 
 " There is Ugo," she said quickly ; and Fabrizio saw his 
 cousin's form approaching them from the further end of the 
 terrace. 
 
 Count Vitali greeted his guest with all the cheerful good- 
 humour of a man who feels he has done a satisfactory morning's 
 work before other people have been out of their beds. He was 
 clad in riding-breeches and gaiters, and his boots were white 
 with the dust from the sun-baked land ; for he had been in the 
 saddle since five o'clock that morning, visiting every portion of 
 his property. 
 
 " I hope you slept well," he said to Fabrizio. " You have not 
 the buona ciera, as the peasants say ; but you will very soon get 
 some colour into your face now you have left Rome behind you. 
 Cristina," he continued, " do you recollect me telling you that I 
 had sent one of my best mares to Bracciano ? Imagine if I am 
 annoyed ! The Odescalchi people declare that she is wrong in 
 the wind. It is they who are wrong in the head ! The mare is 
 as sound as I am ! " 
 
 " Which, I should think, is saying a great deal ! " observed 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 Ugo Vitali laughed. " I am as sound as most men, I am glad 
 to say," he said carelessly. " You must admit that it is very 
 annoying," he added, turning to his wife again. "They have 
 kept the mare for a fortnight, and of course I thought I had sold 
 her." 
 
 " Oh, very annoying, certainly," agreed Countess Vitali. 
 
 "Yes, but that is not all," proceeded Ugo. "When one is 
 away, things are sure to go wrong. I have wasted nearly a week 
 in Rome — and a week at this time of year means a great deal." 
 
 "Why not have an agent to look after things for you?" 
 suggested Fabrizio. 
 
 " Yes, why not, Ugo ? " said Cristina. " I have often 
 wondered why you do not have an agent."
 
 TEMPTATION 45 
 
 " Why should I pay a stranger to do what I can do as well or 
 better myself? " returned Ugo. " Besides," he continued, " the 
 contadini would not work for any agent as well as they work for 
 me. They trust me, and I trust them. We neither of us want 
 any third person to come between us." 
 
 " Is it not an ideal state of things ? " said Cristina to Fabrizio. 
 " You see that the peasants and my husband thoroughly under- 
 stand each other ; so of course there is nothing more to be 
 desired." 
 
 "Cristina is quite right," Ugo remarked. " When padrone and 
 contadino trust one another and work together for the good of 
 the land, I do not see what more can be desired on any 
 property." 
 
 Countess Vitali did not answer. She looked at Fabrizio, and 
 their eyes met. 
 
 The shadow from the sun-dial on the facade of Palazzo VitaH 
 pointed to eleven, and Cristina rose from her seat under the 
 magnolia tree. 
 
 " We breakfast at half-past eleven," she said to Fabrizio ; and 
 leaving him and her husband to follow her at their leisure, she 
 walked away and disappeared into the house.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 T TGO VITALI had been quite right when he declared that 
 ^ Fabrizio would soon recover his ailments now that he had 
 left Rome behind him. 
 
 Although, notwithstanding the legends written home to their 
 friends by over-tired and over-fed English tourists, modern Rome 
 is one of the healthiest of European capitals, the heavy Roman 
 air does not assist a speedy recovery from illness, should 
 illness chance to be contracted there. Fabrizio's malady, how- 
 ever, was merely one of that very general species requiring 
 change of habit rather than change of air or scene. He had 
 been at Palazzo Vitali nearly a fortnight now, and he was 
 unquestionably the better, at all events physically, in 
 consequence. 
 
 The days had passed quickly enough — more quickly, indeed, 
 than Fabrizio would have thought it possible that days could pass 
 in the country — and, somewhat to his own surprise, he found 
 himself agreeing with his cousin Ugo that there was no particular 
 reason why he should be in a hurry to return to Rome. Countess 
 Vitali, too, seconded her husband's proposal that Fabrizio should 
 stay at least another fortnight with them ; and so it was eventually 
 settled that no definite date should be fixed for his departure. 
 
 Fabrizio did not attempt to persuade himself that Hfe at 
 Palazzo Vitali was exciting ; but he was becoming gradually 
 conscious of the fact that he found it interesting — and this quite 
 apart from any scope it afforded for incidental amusements. Of 
 these last, it might be said briefly that there was none. 
 
 Life in an Italian country-house is, as a rule, of a rigid 
 simplicity. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, but 
 they are to be found only in individual establishments far more 
 pretentious than was that of Casa Vitali. The Italian villeg- 
 giahira is not lacking in ease, but the comforts and pleasant 
 46
 
 TEMPTATION 47 
 
 refinements common to country-houses north of the Alps are 
 regarded as superfluous, and are usually conspicuous by their 
 absence. During an Italian summer, however, in-door comforts 
 can very well be dispensed with ; and Fabrizio, being un- 
 accustomed to exotic luxuries in his mother's apartment in Rome, 
 did not notice the want of them. 
 
 Strangely enough, Countess Vitali herself was the one person 
 in the house who resented what she described as an old-fashioned 
 and bourgeois way of living. Considering the circumstances of 
 her birth and bringing up, her attitude towards the subject was, 
 no doubt, both unreasonable and illogical. Probably Ugo Vitali 
 regarded it as such, though he was far too much of a gentleman 
 even to hint to her that he did so. It was evident, nevertheless, 
 that the contemptuous remarks she would often make concerning 
 their mode of life irritated Count Vitali beyond measure. 
 
 If the mode of life at Palazzo Vitali was old-fashioned, as his 
 wife declared, it was for this very reason that Ugo Vitali clung all 
 the more closely to it. His father before him had lived in the 
 same manner, and Ugo could see no reason why he should 
 depart from the example of his predecessors so far as his domestic 
 arrangements were concerned. In all things regarding the im- 
 proving of his lands he was liberal minded enough, and was the 
 first to adopt any modern agricultural appliance that he could 
 afford, or that he believed to be suitable to his requirements. 
 But, apart from his farming, Ugo was conservative au bouts 
 des ongles. It would scarcely have been natural had he not been 
 so, since he was one of a type of country gentleman which still 
 exists as it has existed for centuries in the provincial districts of 
 Italy. 
 
 Holding himself entirely aloof from the cosmopolitan society of 
 the capital, and of the other large towns, he had never been 
 brought into contact with foreign ideas, or with those foreign 
 customs to which the modern Italian of the upper class has 
 taken so kindly. Of pride he had plenty ; but it was not the 
 false pride attributed to him by superficial observers of his 
 character. It was owing to a sense of his own inferiority if he 
 stood aside from the life of Rome with all its political, social,
 
 48 TEMPTATION 
 
 and religious struggles and intrigues. So far as blood was con- 
 cerned, he knew himself to be better born and better descended 
 than nine out of ten Roman princes who could trace their 
 nobility to no worthier source than that of some priestly 
 adventurer of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The 
 Vitali had been of those powerful Roman barons who had once 
 harassed popes very much at their own pleasure ; consequently, 
 such comparatively modern names as those borne by representa- 
 tives of papal nepotism possessed, in Ugo Vitali's eyes, no claim 
 to superiority over his own. 
 
 In his religious opinions, Ugo was, as Cristina had warned 
 Fabrizio, strongly Catholic, at any rate in the sense of accepting 
 unquestioningly all the propositions the Church imposed upon 
 his faith. In the complicated problems regarding the relations 
 between Church and State he took little or no interest ; but, like 
 the great majority of Italians, he regarded the Papacy as a national 
 institution which, apart from religious prejudices, had an ancient 
 and historical claim to be respected and upheld as such. 
 
 Placed by his host and hostess on the footing of a relative 
 nearer in kinship than was actually the case, Fabrizio Vitali had 
 more opportunity than would have fallen to the lot of an ordinary 
 guest of gaining an insight into the more personal details of their 
 domestic life. It was true that Ugo had never again referred to 
 the subject of his wife's disappointment that no child had as yet 
 been born to them, and a less shrewd observer than Fabrizio 
 might well have failed to notice anything unusual in Countess 
 Vitali's demeanour towards her husband. Cristina herself, how- 
 ever, had given him a clue which Fabrizio was not slow in 
 determining to follow up. He had never stopped to ask himself 
 why she should have given it to him so spontaneously, being 
 quite content with the thought that he had so quickly succeeded 
 in establishing a bond of sympathy between himself and a woman 
 who attracted him as much by a personality which puzzled him as 
 by her physical beauty. 
 
 Fabrizio very soon came to the conclusion that Ugo was 
 completely mistaken in thinking that his wife was fretting at being 
 childless. At first he had suspected that his cousin was either
 
 TEMPTATION 49 
 
 wilfully deceiving himself, or that he was attempting to conceal 
 from any third person the true state of affairs. A very few days 
 at Palazzo Vitali had sufficed to convince Fabrizio that he was 
 wrong in both suspicions. It was evident that Ugo genuinely 
 believed in the explanation he had found for the gradual change 
 in his wife's demeanour; and moreover, that he was absolutely 
 incapable of understanding the possibility of there being any 
 other. 
 
 And yet, to a third person, the situation was clear enough. 
 Cristina was bored — hopelessly bored — not only with the Hfe 
 she found herself obliged to lead at Palazzo Vitali, but also with 
 her husband ; while the arrival or non-arrival of a baby on the 
 scene would, Fabrizio was equally persuaded, not alter the 
 position of things in the slightest degree. 
 
 It seemed incredible that Ugo should not realise this position, 
 or rather, it would have seemed incredible in the case of any 
 other husband. But Fabrizio had speedily recognised the 
 simplicity of his cousin's nature, as well as his entire want of 
 knowledge of the world; and Ugo's obtuseness, therefore, 
 became more understandable. 
 
 And so it had come to pass that Fabrizio had to some extent 
 found the amusement he had anticipated in making himself 
 acquainted with his cousins' menage, though not after the 
 manner of his anticipation. By degrees he found himself in the 
 position, as it were, of an interested spectator looking on 
 at a comedy — a comedy he did not enjoy the less for being, as 
 he fully believed, in the confidence of the principal player. 
 Circumstances, it must be admitted, afforded Fabrizio every 
 opportunity of availing himself of Countess Vitali's apparent 
 readiness to confide in him. Except at meals and in the 
 evenings Ugo was seldom at home ; for it was the season when 
 his vineyards, and, indeed, every department of his property re- 
 quired his constant attention and supervision. 
 
 Occasionally neighbours would call on Countess Vitali — for 
 there are country neighbours in Italy as there are in England, 
 and perhaps their habits do not differ very much. When they 
 paid a visit, it was usually a long one. But, unlike their English 
 
 D
 
 50 TEMPTATION 
 
 counterparts, they did not, at the conclusion of their visits, 
 make elaborate excuses for leaving — a British custom which 
 strikes the foreign observer as being merely an unnecessary 
 manifestation of the national hypocrisy, displaying at the same 
 time a deplorable lack of the sense of humour. Sometimes 
 Cristina would invite a few people to play lawn-tennis in the 
 gardens, and at rare intervals one or two more intimate friends 
 would be asked to dinner, which last was a purely informal 
 meal for which nobody ever thought of doing more than chang- 
 ing their morning garments — the ladies wearing high gowns and 
 hats, and the men donning black coats. 
 
 These festivities, however, were few and far between ; and as 
 a rule Count and Countess Vitali were alone with their guest. 
 Whatever Ugo Vitali's faults may have been, he was certainly 
 not a jealous husband. He had seen with satisfaction that his 
 wife appeared to like Fabrizio's society, and he was not in 
 the least disposed to resent the fact that she did so. It was 
 something of a revelation to him that Cristina had any interest 
 in literature, and that she should be able to talk to Fabrizio on 
 subjects of which he, Ugo, knew nothing, and perhaps cared 
 about even less. He could not be inspired to know that their 
 conversations were strictly limited in his presence to such general 
 topics as should not offend his more orthodox opinions, nor 
 that Fabrizio reserved his amateur philosophy for moments when 
 Cristina and he were alone together. The fact that his wife 
 was undoubtedly less difficile than she had lately taken to be 
 was in itself sufficiently satisfactory ; and Ugo argued to himself 
 that it was very natural that she should be interested in the 
 society of a man like Fabrizio, who no doubt was a very clever 
 fellow, though he did not seem to put his talents to any very 
 practical account. Moreover, Fabrizio was his nearest of kin, 
 and a Vitali; and honest as the day himself it never entered 
 into Ugo's head to suspect double-dealing on the part of others, 
 at all events in things lying outside the domain of business, in 
 which last matter experience had taught him the advisability of 
 not judging others by his own standard. 
 
 It was natural that the little social world of Viterbo should be
 
 TEMPTATION 51 
 
 exercised in its mind concerning Fabrizio's appearance in the Vitali 
 menage. Countess Vitali had never succeeded in winning any great 
 measure of popularity among her husband's neighbours, many of 
 whom could never forget the fact that she had not been his equal 
 in birth. The taint of the Norcian pigs still clung to her, at least 
 so far as the nostrils of some of the Viterbese aristocracy were 
 concerned. Cristina, it was true, had not taken any particular 
 trouble to win her way into the intimacy of this body. She 
 had very soon realised that she was only tolerated as an equal 
 by some of Ugo's neighbours because she happened to be his 
 wife; and she had resented their attitude accordingly, though 
 she had not cared to show her resentment too openly. The 
 men, of course, were quite ready to forget her antecedents and 
 only to remember her good looks ; it was their women-kind 
 who were apt to resuscitate the pigs on every possible opportunity, 
 and more especially when some unsuspecting stranger happened 
 to praise Countess Vitali's beauty. 
 
 There was one among her neighbours, however, who had from 
 the first stood by Cristina, and whose voice carried weight by 
 reason of the position and reputation enjoyed by its owner not 
 only in the society of Viterbo, but also in far more important 
 communities. The Duchessa di San Felice was one of those 
 people whose lives are chiefly occupied in doing good to their 
 fellow-creatures ; but, unlike the majority of the women of her 
 class, she did not advertise her actions. Her name was seldom 
 or never to be found on lists of " patronesses " of the innumer- 
 able entertainments professedly offered for charitable purposes 
 during the Roman season, probably because she was too well 
 aware of the extent to which a mysterious leakage in the 
 proceeds of such entertainments is apt to occur before they are 
 finally consigned to their legitimate destination. The duchessa's 
 philanthropy was practical rather than sentimental in its action. 
 She devoted her energies to fighting the causes of disease and 
 poverty, rather than to making spasmodic attempts to remedy 
 their eff'ects. Still a young woman, the Duchessa di San Felice 
 was possessed of most of the advantages this world can off'er. 
 Born of a great house herself, she had married well and happily,
 
 52 TEMPTATION 
 
 though five years after her marriage she had been left a widow. 
 The Duca di San FeUce had been drowned while saiUng off 
 Livorno in a small sailing-boat he delighted in handling himself. 
 A violent Libeccio had come on while the vessel was half-way to 
 the Corsican coast ; the boat capsized ; and of the four men on 
 board her, only one was saved by a passing steamer to bring the 
 news of the disaster to the mainland. 
 
 The duchess, left with two little children, had never married 
 again, though rumour declared that she might have done so many 
 times had she not preferred to remain a widow. If she had 
 not the striking beauty of features and colouring possessed by 
 Cristina Vitali, she was none the less remarkably attractive ; and 
 there was about her that unmistakable stamp of birth and breed- 
 ing which, with all her beauty, were lacking to Countess Vitali. 
 Vittoria di San Felice, nata Vittoria della Valle of the princes of 
 Montughi, was a tall, stately woman some five and thirty years 
 of age. Her quiet, somewhat cold manner, was apt to be 
 attributed to indifference or to pride by those who met her for 
 the first time ; and this, coupled with a fairness of colouring more 
 like that of an Englishwoman than an Italian, had sometimes 
 gained for her a reputation of stiffness which her more intimate 
 acquaintances knew to be very foreign to her real nature. 
 Although she was known to and appreciated by all the leading 
 spirits, political, literary, scientific, of her country, the Duchessa. 
 di San Felice was by no means a blue-stocking. A deep interest 
 in the social and economic conditions of her country did not 
 prevent her from finding distractions in other and less serious 
 subjects. A bold rider, and an even bolder Alpine climber, she 
 had occasionally somewhat scandalised the sticklers for the old 
 order of things who considered dancing to be the only legitimate 
 form of exercise for a woman to take, and who regarded her 
 athletic performances as being no doubt natural in an English- 
 woman, but hardly fitting in an Italian princess. 
 
 The Duchessa di San Felice had, since her husband's death, 
 been accustomed to spend a great part of the year in her villa 
 near Viterbo, and appeared but little in society in Rome. It was 
 no secret, however, that she might, had she so chosen, have been
 
 TEMPTATION 53 
 
 one of the Court ladies; nor that the intellectual and gracious 
 Queen Margherita, ever ready to recognise talents and goodness of 
 heart in others with a quick discrimination, had given her many 
 proofs of favour and sympathy. 
 
 It was natural, therefore, that Vittoria di San Felice should be 
 looked upon by her neighbours in the district around Viterbo as 
 what in fact she was — a grande dame who was at the same time a 
 clever woman in touch with the clever people of the country. 
 The combination being everywhere a rare one, it probably served 
 to increase the esteem in which the duchessa was held by her 
 friends and acquaintances who, to her credit be it said, were to 
 be found in all classes, rich and poor, noble and peasant. 
 
 Not even the friendly attitude adopted by the Duchessa di San 
 Felice towards Ugo Vitali's wife, however, had entirely reconciled 
 a certain section of Viterbese society to the daughter of an 
 individual who had once herded pigs. The duchessa, indeed, 
 had laughed at the legend when told it, and had observed that 
 the herding of pigs was a more useful occupation than many 
 others. She was perfectly well aware that Count Vitali's marriage 
 had caused heart-burnings in more quarters than one ; but 
 though she might not altogether approve of his choice, she had 
 no intention of making things difficult for his newly married wife 
 by saying so. Although it would have been difficult to find two 
 people of more opposite tastes in many ways than had the 
 Duchessa di San Felice and Ugo Vitali, they had been friends for 
 some years. Ugo, who shunned women's society, had always 
 felt completely at his ease at the Villa Falconara, as the duchessa's 
 villa was called. Not the least of Vittoria di San Felice's charms, 
 and certainly one of the proofs of her cleverness was the gift of 
 being able to interest herself in the things which interested 
 others — always supposing that those things were not in the 
 nature of gossip, for which she had a profound and openly 
 expressed contempt. She was quick to discover the special 
 hobby of any one with whom she talked, and equally clever at 
 extracting anything of interest that person might have to say 
 about it. It was no doubt due to this talent on the duchessa's 
 part if Ugo Vitali was always ready to call upon her at the Villa
 
 54 TEMPTATION 
 
 Falconara, whereas nothing would have induced him to visit 
 others of his neighbours who might have been supposed to be 
 much more of his own world than was the intellectual mistress of 
 that picturesque but solitary abode. 
 
 Notwithstanding the wide difference in the majority of their 
 tastes, there was at least one that Vittoria di San Felice and 
 Ugo possessed in common. The love for the country which was 
 so strong in the latter was equally shared by the former. 
 Vittoria was certainly not a farmer; but most enthusiasms 
 interested her, and she would encourage Ugo to tell her of all his 
 schemes for the amelioration of his property. Her quick 
 sympathy had enabled her long ago to read his nature, and the 
 generosity and simplicity of that nature had met with a ready 
 response from her own. When Ugo Vitali had written to her 
 announcing his marriage, Vittoria di San Felice had been in the 
 Val d'Aosta, engaged in one of her mountaineering excursions. 
 Ugo had made no secret of the difference in position between 
 himself and his bride ; and Vittoria, who was liberal enough in 
 such matters, had not been indignant when he explained that 
 Cristina's father was a wealthy mercante di campagna. She 
 possessed at least one acquaintance in the smart world of Rome 
 who had taken a husband or a wife from the same ceto, and in 
 each case the gilding of the plebeian pill had been sufficiently 
 thick satisfactorily to disguise any unpleasant taste — at least 
 temporarily. The duchessa, however, knew Ugo Vitali much too 
 well to believe for a moment that he was marrying for the sake of 
 his wife's dot. Under the circumstances, she felt convinced that 
 he had married a woman who, if not exactly of his own class, 
 would from the very fact of her origin be more likely to make 
 him happy than might be the case had he chosen his wife 
 elsewhere. 
 
 When Vittoria di San Felice decided to take up a position, it 
 was no easy matter to move her from it. By the time she 
 returned to Villa Falconara, Ugo Vitali's marriage was an 
 accomplished fact, and he and his wife were already settled in 
 Palazzo Vitali. Perhaps Vittoria was not without a lurking 
 regret that Ugo had married at all. Marriage has proved to be
 
 TEMPTATION 55 
 
 the interruption of many pleasant episodes in life. If it adds 
 much to the life of the woman, it also destroys much in that of 
 the man. 
 
 On making Countess Vitali's acquaintance, Vittoria came to 
 the conclusion that she must reserve her judgment as to whether 
 her friend had chosen ill or wisely. She was accustomed to 
 make up her mind almost instantly as to the personality of those 
 with whom she was brought into contact, and her instinct had 
 usually proved itself to be correct. With Cristina Vitah, 
 however, she was conscious that her instinct was at fault. She 
 had expected, and hoped, to find that here, also, was simplicity ; 
 and she had been prepared to ignore possible vulgarity, or at 
 least to accept it as a lesser evil ; since vulgarity, so long as it 
 were of manners and not of nature, was curable. 
 
 But Cristina was not vulgar. She was not, to be sure, in all 
 things as Vittoria herself, nor was it likely or natural that she 
 should be so. The little, indescribable nuances marking the 
 difference of caste which even Fabrizio had been able to detect, 
 and which were certainly still more apparent to a woman of 
 Vittoria di San Felice's breeding, showed themselves in many 
 ways, trifling, indeed, but unmistakable. 
 
 It was not this, however, which caused the duchessa to suspend 
 her judgment as to whether Ugo had or had not found a wife 
 who would make him happy. Countess Vitali's personahty 
 puzzled her; and, somewhat inconsequently, perhaps, she 
 wondered how it was that so honest and straightforward a man 
 as Count Vitali had not been puzzled by it also. 
 
 Vittoria's nature was much too generous to allow her always 
 to be guided by her first impressions. It was evident, moreover, 
 that Ugo was deeply in love with his wife ; though even in those 
 early days of their married life it was by no means so evident to 
 Vittoria that Cristina was in love with him. This last considera- 
 tion, oddly enough, produced in the Duchessa di San Felice a 
 feeling of impatience, and almost of annoyance, for which she 
 was unable to account and tried not to discuss with herself. 
 
 Having made up her mind to give her social support to Ugo 
 Vitali's wife, she had given it loyally ; and she had gone out of
 
 56 TEMPTATION 
 
 her way to show to all whom it might concern that she was 
 perfectly indifferent as to whether the pig story were true or the 
 reverse. 
 
 Being fully conscious of her own power in all social matters 
 affecting her Viterbese neighbours, the duchessa had been 
 surprised to find that, notwithstanding her attitude towards her, 
 Countess Vitali was yet looked at somewhat doubtfully. But 
 nobody ventured to criticise Cristina to Vittoria di San Felice, 
 all the more so because Vittoria had far too much tact and 
 knowledge of the world to allow it to be supposed that she had 
 noticed any disinclination on the part of her neighbours to receive 
 Countess Vitali into their real intimacy. 
 
 Their reserve towards Cristina Vitali, however, by no means 
 prevented her acquaintances from accepting any hospitaUty 
 Palazzo Vitali might offer. No people in Europe know better 
 how to draw a subtle but distinct line between friendly intercourse 
 and intimacy than do the Italians, and none can draw this line 
 with greater politeness. The society of Viterbo being limited, 
 it was speedily known throughout its ranks that Fabrizio was 
 paying an apparently indefinite visit to his cousins at Palazzo 
 Vitali. Countess Vitali, moreover, drove about with her guest 
 while her husband was occupied with his own affairs — and this, 
 perhaps, had caused a certain amount of gossip among people 
 who had rarely anything new to talk of. The consequence had 
 been that, as Cristina had on one occasion drily observed — 
 though she did not make the remark before Ugo — she became 
 quite a popular person with her neighbours, and Taddeo had to 
 answer the great, clanging bell at the portone of the courtyard 
 more frequently in the course of the last fortnight than he had 
 done at any time since Count Vitali had first brought his wife 
 home.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 '"TPHE signora duchessa di San Felice wishes to know if the 
 
 •^ signora contessa receives." 
 
 Cristina Vitali was sitting alone on the terrace with a book 
 Fabrizio had lent her lying on the ground beside her, where it 
 had fallen from her lap. It was nearly five o'clock ; and though 
 the afternoon sun still beat fiercely on the drooping flowers in the 
 gardens below, the terrace itself, shaded by the house, was a cool 
 retreat enough. 
 
 Cristina had not made much way in her book. As a matter of 
 fact, she was extremely bored by it. To sit and listen, or pretend 
 to listen, while Fabrizio expounded the theories of Schopenhauer, 
 according to his own conception of their import, was one thing ; 
 but to wrestle with that philosopher in print on a hot afternoon 
 was a very different matter. Fabrizio had carefully marked cer- 
 tain passages in the volume for his cousin's special attention ; 
 but Cristina could make neither head nor tail of their meaning, 
 and was, in reality, profoundly indifferent as to whether they 
 had any meaning or not. She harboured a very shrewd sus- 
 picion, born, it is fair to add, rather from the interpretation 
 by the disciple of the master's teaching than from that teach- 
 ing itself, that Schopenhauer and his fellow -philosophers 
 were merely so many imposing pegs on which to hang 
 excuses for doing as one liked in life regardless of ulterior 
 consequences. 
 
 Taddeo's appearance on the terrace with the intelligence that 
 the Duchessa di San Felice was waiting to know if she were at 
 home aroused Cristina from a train of thought with which 
 Schopenhauer was only indirectly connected. It would have 
 been difficult to guess from Countess Vitali's expression of counten- 
 ance whether the interruption was agreeable or the reverse. 
 The smile on her face, as she bade Taddeo conduct the signora 
 
 57
 
 58 TEMPTATION 
 
 duchessa at once to the terrace and afterwards to bring tea and 
 granite^ was entirely enigmatic. 
 
 As Vittoria di San Felice emerged from the courtyard on to 
 the terrace Cristina rose from the low wicker-chair in which she 
 was seated and went to meet her. 
 
 " I have come to congratulate you both," said Vittoria, as they 
 sat down. " I was so very glad to hear of Vitali's good fortune. 
 Do accept my warmest congratulations, contessa ! " 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice's voice was low and singularly musical — 
 in which she was more blessed than very many of her country- 
 women, whose voices are seldom one of their attractions. 
 Though, according to the Italian custom by which ladies address 
 men whom they know well by their surnames only, she spoke of 
 Ugo so unceremoniously, Vittoria had never yet called his wife by 
 her Christian name; she might, indeed, with perfect propriety 
 have called Count Vitali Ugo, since she had known him when 
 he was barely twenty-one, in his parents' lifetime. 
 
 "It was a pleasant surprise, certainly, for Ugo," Cristina 
 replied. " Of course," she added, " Ugo was the Marchesa 
 Santoro's nearest relative; but all the same it was, as I say, a 
 very pleasant surprise to him." 
 
 Vittoria smiled. " And to you also ! " she returned. 
 
 "The Marchesa Santoro did not leave her money to me, 
 duchessa," observed Cristina coldly. " No doubt," she continued, 
 " Ugo is very pleased. He says that he will now be able really to 
 improve his property. But that, after all, does not affect me ! " 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice glanced at her curiously. "Cara 
 contessa," she replied, and there was a distinct note of surprise 
 in her voice, " but of course it must affect you ! Ah, I forgot ! " 
 and she paused suddenly. 
 
 At this moment Taddeo reappeared and aided by a young 
 footman — an altogether modern addition to the Vitali household — 
 began to prepare the tea-table. The Duchessa di San Felice was 
 not ill-pleased at an interruption which relieved her of the necessity 
 to explain what it was that she had forgotten. Her glance fell on 
 the book Cristina had dropped, and which lay close beside her 
 chair. To look at the title of any book near her was a tempta-
 
 TEMPTATION 59 
 
 ti'on Vittoria never had been able to withstand. Stooping down, 
 she picked up the volume, and as she read its name, raised her 
 eyebrows in some astonishment. 
 
 "Vitali never told me that he had married a student of 
 metaphysics ! " she said, with a smile. " Do you really mean to 
 tell me that you were reading Schopenhauer when I disturbed 
 you ? " she added. 
 
 " Our cousin, Fabrizio Vitali, lent it to me," replied Cristina. 
 " He is staying with us, you know. I am very much interested 
 in the questions he writes of." 
 
 " Does he write — your cousin, I mean ? " asked Vittoria. 
 
 Countess Vitali glanced at her suspiciously, scenting malice in 
 the question. "I meant Schopenhauer, not Fabrizio," she ex- 
 plained. " But you, no doubt, read all his works, duchessa. Ugo 
 has often told me that you are a student of such subjects." 
 
 Vittoria laughed. "I ? " she exclaimed. " No ! I cannot 
 afford myself the time, even if I possessed the brains. My 
 studies, such as they are, are limited to the more prosaic questions 
 of everyday life. So your cousin is a student of philosophy ; 
 that is very interesting. Some tea? yes, thank you, but very 
 weak, and with much sugar." 
 
 " Here he is to answer for himself," said Cristina, as Fabrizio 
 at that moment appeared on the terrace and came towards them. 
 "Let me present my cousin to you," she added, as he ap- 
 proached the tea-table, " the Duchessa di San Felice," she 
 continued to Fabrizio. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice turned on him the tranquil, penetrating 
 glance which, all unknown to herself, she was in the habit of 
 bestowing on a new acquaintance. 
 
 "What have you been doing with yourself?" asked Cristina. 
 " I have not seen you since breakfast." 
 
 " I had letters to write," answered Fabrizio, " and afterwards — 
 shall I confess it? — I went to sleep." 
 
 " Over another volume of Schopenhauer? " asked the Duchessa 
 di San Felice, smiling. 
 
 Fabrizio looked as, indeed, he felt, gratified. It was evident 
 that Cristina and her visitor had been talking about hina.
 
 60 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Ah, no, duchessa," he replied, *' I do not go to sleep over 
 Schopenhauer ! I read him often at nights, when I cannot sleep." 
 
 " That seems to me to come to the same thing in the end," 
 observed Vittoria, a little drily. " At least," she added, " I hope 
 so, for your sake ! " 
 
 " He has studied too hard," interposed Countess Vitali, 
 " that is the reason why he is now leading our very dull life at 
 Viterbo ! " 
 
 Vittoria looked at the young man with renewed interest. " You 
 have an object in view, of course," she said to him ; " one does 
 not read the philosophers without some special reason for doing 
 so j at least, one does not study them to the extent of injury to 
 he'alth. Some day, I suppose, we shall learn your object in the 
 pages of a work of your own." 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali was a little disconcerted. He had never been 
 asked so leading a question before, in connection with his 
 philosophic studies. 
 
 " My object ? " he repeated, " I really can hardly tell you, 
 duchessa. I suppose my object is to emancipate myself, and 
 help to emancipate others, as much as possible from the childish 
 superstitions in which we were most of us brought up." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice made no reply, and stirred her tea with 
 a thoughtful air as though she were considering Fabrizio's remark, 
 which, indeed was what she was doing, although not in a manner 
 very flattering to the maker of it. "Vitali, I suppose, is out," 
 she observed presently, turning to Countess Vitali. 
 
 " He is not often in ! " replied Cristina. " He will be very 
 sorry to have missed your visit, duchessa," she added. " As you 
 know, you are one of the few people he cares to talk to." 
 
 "Am I?" said Vittoria laughing. "Do you know, contessa, I 
 regard that as a great compliment. Sicuro ! your husband and I 
 are old friends, and I am always very pleased to see him. But 
 you will all come and breakfast with me one of these days, will 
 you not ? and I insist upon Vitali accompanying you. I will not 
 accept any excuses from him. He may ride over to Villa 
 Falconara, if he likes, after he has got through his morning's 
 business, and meet you and your cousin there."
 
 TEMPTATION 61 
 
 Cristina looked at Fabrizio. "It would be delightful," she 
 began. 
 
 " You will be interested in the villa," continued Vittoria to 
 Fabrizio, " if you care for historical things. By the way, it ought 
 to belong to your family, I believe, if everybody had their rights. 
 It was a Maidalchini villa in old days, and the home of your 
 naughty ancestress Donna Giulia." 
 
 " I should like to see it immensely," returned Fabrizio. " How 
 did it come into the possession of the San Felice ? " 
 
 Vittoria shrugged her shoulders. " I have not the least 
 notion ! " she replied. " I conclude they bought it, or stole it. 
 I will show you an old chestnut tree in the garden which was 
 supposed to bear miraculous fruit." 
 
 Fabrizio smiled. " I need hardly say that I do not suppose 
 you believe in miracles, duchessa," he remarked. 
 
 " This miracle was a practical joke," proceeded Vittoria, 
 ignoring the observation, "probably the only one intentionally 
 played by a Pope on the faithful — at least, as a good Catholic, I 
 am bound to suppose so ! The Maidalchini on one occasion 
 entertained their brother-in-law. Innocent X., in what is 
 now called the Villa Falconara. The Pope, together with 
 certain members of the family, caused roasted chestnuts to 
 be placed inside the outer husks of the fruit growing on an 
 old chestnut tree, and these were afterwards beaten down 
 in the usual way. When the chestnuts were extracted and found 
 to be already roasted, the peasants cried al miracolo I with the 
 result that the report rapidly spread that the Holy Father had 
 performed a miracle and caused roasted chestnuts to be gathered 
 from the tree. Crowds came from all parts of the district to 
 look at the wonderful tree — much to the Pope's diversion. I 
 always like that story," continued Vittoria, "there is a human 
 touch about it which is refreshing." ^ 
 
 " And a miracle as genuine as all the rest we are asked by the 
 priests to believe in," added Fabrizio. 
 
 " I will show you the tree," repeated Vittoria. " Of course, it 
 
 ^ This episode is described in contemporary MSS. and by Bussi in his 
 Isioria della citid di Viterbo (Roma, 1472).
 
 62 TEMPTATION 
 
 cannot be the original tree, as the people declare, but I have no 
 doubt it is a lineal descendant." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards, the Duchessa di San Felice rose, and 
 Cristina and Fabrizio accompanied her to the courtyard, where 
 her carriage was waiting for her. " It is understood, then, that 
 you will all come to breakfast with me one day next week, shall 
 we say Tuesday, if that suits your arrangements? Arrivederci 
 dunque, cara contessa, and a thousand things to your husband ! 
 Do not forget to tell him that I will positively not listen to 
 any of his excuses." 
 
 " I assure you that he will make none ! " repHed Cristina ; and 
 as she spoke she looked at Fabrizio with a scarcely concealed 
 smile. Vittoria di San Felice saw the smile, and kept it in her 
 mind for further analysis during her drive homewards. She was 
 driving herself, and, taking the reins from the groom, she bade 
 Countess Vitali good-bye and with a bow to Fabrizio drove 
 through the gateway, the heavy doors of which were immediately 
 closed behind her by the porter. 
 
 Cristina, followed by Fabrizio, returned to their seats on the 
 terrace. 
 
 " So that," said Fabrizio, " is the San Felice. I have often 
 heard of her, of course, but I did not know that she was a 
 neighbour of yours. She is certainly an attractive woman. I 
 suppose that is why people are so ready to think her clever." 
 
 " You do not find her so ? " asked Cristina. 
 
 " I cannot say that she impressed me with her cleverness," 
 returned Fabrizio ; " her remark as to only having time to occupy 
 herself with the things of everyday life seemed to me to be 
 anything but a sign of being clever." 
 
 " You must not say so to Ugo," observed Cristina. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " Is he so devoted to her ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " They are old friends, as you heard her say," replied Cristina. 
 " Ugo always quotes her as being the cleverest woman he knows, 
 though, to be sure, he does not know many women, clever or 
 otherwise. I have often wondered why he did not marry her, 
 as he admires her so much."
 
 TEMPTATION 63 
 
 " I do not wonder at all," Fabrizio said. " I can conceive 
 
 no greater contrast in women than you and the San Felice." 
 
 "I meant, of course, before he married me," said Cristina 
 laughing. " The San Felice," she added, " had already been a 
 widow for some years before Ugo and I ever saw one another. 
 I often think he would have been much happier had he married 
 her." 
 
 " It is incredible ! " murmured Fabrizio. 
 
 " What is incredible ! It is, on the contrary, perfectly 
 credible that he would have been happier. But you must not 
 run away with the idea that I am jealous of the San Felice ! she 
 is virtue personified ; and as to Ugo " 
 
 " And you," said Fabrizio, " would you have been happier if 
 Ugo had married her ? cara mia cugina, you must not think that 
 I am very indiscreet. We have so much in common, so many 
 ideas and feelings which Ugo, with his different mind and 
 temperament, could not enter into, that surely I may be allowed 
 to show you that I can perhaps understand you better than he 
 can. Of course you are not jealous of the San Felice ! the sun 
 might as well be jealous of a block of ice." 
 
 Cristina did not reply for a moment or two. " She came here 
 to spy," she said presently, with a slight laugh, " like the rest of 
 them." 
 
 "To spy?" repeated Fabrizio, '* what do you mean, Cristina? " 
 
 " You do not know these people ! " exclaimed Cristina angrily ; 
 and Fabrizio, as he looked at her, thought how like she was at 
 that moment to a handsome woman of the Ciociaria. " The San 
 Felice came to spy, I tell you !" she repeated. "She knew well 
 enough that you were here." 
 
 " I ? " exclaimed Fabrizio, astonished. " What could the fact of 
 my being here matter to her ? I do not understand " 
 
 " It is not the least necessary that you should understand," 
 returned Cristina, " but I understand, and that is enough. These 
 Viterbesi think that I am not good enough for Ugo, because I 
 was not noble. All the same, they can take the trouble to write 
 me anonymous letters ! " 
 
 "That is a very ordinary proceeding," observed Fabrizio Vitali
 
 64 TEMPTATION 
 
 tranquilly. " In Rome people frequently get anonymous letters, 
 and in Florence I am told that it is quite unfashionable not to 
 receive them periodically." 
 
 " I have only had one," said Cristina. " It was about Ugo." 
 
 " Naturally ! if Ugo had received one, it would have been 
 about you." 
 
 " It said that Ugo only married me after he had been refused 
 by the San Felice." 
 
 " And did you show the letter to Ugo ? " 
 
 " Of course not ! why should I have shown it to him ? Per 
 caritjl, do not ever mention it to him ! " 
 
 " It is another confidence," replied Fabrizio. *' I hope you do 
 not think me capable of betraying a confidence between you and 
 me. But, forgive me for asking you, do you believe the story ? " 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. "Chi sa?" she answered. 
 " It may be true, or it may be a lie. In any case, it does not 
 matter now. Only, I should like to know who wrote the letter." 
 
 " The San Felice herself, probably ! " 
 
 Cristina clasped her hands together. " Fabrizio," she exclaimed, 
 " you and I certainly see things in the same light ! I have often 
 suspected the San Felice of having written that letter. She has 
 always pretended to be so friendly, and that made me suspect her 
 all the more. I daresay she is in love with Ugo, and would have 
 married him had he been of her own world. But I am not jealous 
 of the Duchessa di San Felice — niente affatto ! it is more likely that 
 she is jealous of me ! " 
 
 Fabrizio nodded. "It is very possible," he replied. "She 
 does not take the trouble to conceal her friendship for Ugo," he 
 added, " and yet you tell me that she is a clever woman, Cristina. 
 It seems to me that you are much cleverer than she is, for you do 
 not show her your hand." 
 
 Countess Vitali's face suddenly assumed the expression half 
 suspicious and half cunning that Fabrizio had remarkad on more 
 than one occasion. This time, however, he did not see it, as he 
 had risen from his chair to pour himself out a glass oi granita. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she said quickly. " I have no hand to 
 show. Of course I have no proof that the San Felice wrote that
 
 TEMPTATION 65 
 
 letter, and even if I had, as I said just now, it would not matter 
 if what the letter said were true. After all, Ugo married me, and 
 he did not marry the San Felice, so what is donecannot be undone." 
 
 " Not legally, certainly ; or rather, not until we are civilised 
 enough in Italy to snap our fingers at the priests and legalise 
 divorce." 
 
 " Or morally," added Cristina. 
 
 " No — but immorally, as the majority would pretend to consider 
 it ! as if there were anything more immoral than living with some- 
 body one did not really love. But I do not want to shock you 
 by my theories on these subjects. It is my misfortune to have 
 been born a hundred years too soon, and to be in advance of 
 the age. Another century will see the disappearance of many 
 antiquated theories, and the loosening of many bonds we have 
 tied for ourselves by our religious superstitions. In the mean- 
 time " 
 
 " We have to live in this century ! " interrupted Countess 
 Vitali, "and you must admit, Fabrizio, that life might be more 
 interesting than it is at Palazzo Vitali. Can you conceive," she 
 continued, rising from her chair as she spoke and standing over 
 Fabrizio, "a man in the prime of life like Ugo vegetating in this 
 hole, when he might be making a name for himself in the world — 
 or, at all events, enjoying what the world has to give ? Is it not 
 incredible?" 
 
 " It is diflficult to enjoy life in the world without money," said 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 "But if he has money? What, for instance, would you 
 do with your life if you were in Ugo's position, and had 
 come into a million and more of money, besides the income 
 derived from his property ? Would you look on at your land being 
 manured, and your beasts being fed ? That is Ugo's life ; and I 
 have to listen to his dissertations on the quality of the manure 
 and the prices he expects to get for his beasts or his wine. That 
 is my life." 
 
 "Ah," said Fabrizio thoughtfully "if I were in Ugo's shoes, 
 it would not be mine. But that is always the way. Those who 
 have money do not know how to enjoy it."
 
 66 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina Vitali shot a quick glance at him from under her heavy 
 eyelids. " It is odd to think that you and Ugo are of the same 
 blood," she said : " you are so utterly different. No — I do 
 not suppose that, if you were Count Vitali, you would be content 
 to lead Ugo's bucolic existence. You have ambition — artistic 
 tastes — love of society; and you would have money — all the 
 things, in short, which mean success in the world to those who 
 know how to use them." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her curiously. " How did you get your 
 experience of the world ? " he asked : " your convent, surely, 
 could not have supplied it ! " 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," replied Cristina drily. " One has 
 plenty of time for using one's imagination when one is in a 
 convent; and it is quite a mistake to think that nuns and their 
 pupils do not know what is going on in the world. I heard more 
 gossip, and learned more of life, while I was with the nuns at 
 Perugia than I have ever heard or learned since I left them." 
 
 " I should insist on Ugo taking me to Rome in the season, if 
 I were you, as I have told you before," said Fabrizio. "Now 
 that he is so much richer," he continued, "there can be no 
 excuse for not doing so. And you would only have to be seen 
 in Rome, Cristina, and the world would be at your feet ! " 
 
 "And Ugo would kick it away, amico mio ! " replied Cristina. 
 "No, if you were Ugo, per esempio, I have no doubt that you 
 would take me to Rome, and perhaps even to Paris ; but you are 
 not. By the way, has it ever occurred to you how very near 
 you are to being in Ugo's position ? I have often thought of it, 
 since we have known each other. If anything were to happen 
 to him, everything except my porzione vedovile must go to you. 
 Ugo has often told me so ; unless, of course, we should have 
 children. I have many times wondered whether you did not feel 
 how much better you could have done with your cousin's chances 
 in life, had you possessed them. Oh, do not think that I am 
 accusing you of wishing any harm to befall Ugo, or of coveting 
 his goods ! but human nature is human nature, and we none of 
 us can help thoughts coming into our minds. Ugo himself 
 said the same thing to me the other day — not, of course, that
 
 TEMPTATION 67 
 
 you might think how much more you could get out of hfe were 
 you in his place, he would never understand the possibility of 
 such a thing! but he paid he wondered if you ever thought 
 how very easily you might succeed to the title and the 
 property." 
 
 It was Fabrizio now who looked at Cristina quickly and 
 uneasily. Her eyes were turned from him, however, and were 
 looking beyond him into the distance of the garden, where long 
 shadows were beginning to creep across the box hedges and fall 
 on the roses clustering round the stems of the cypress trees. 
 Her face was perfectly impassive, and Fabrizio tried in vain to 
 read its expression. She seemed, indeed, to be hardly interested 
 as to what his reply to her question would be. And yet Fabrizio 
 was keenly conscious of how leading a question it was. Had he 
 thought, indeed ? Why, he had thought not once but a hundred 
 times of how by any accident, at any moment, he might be, as 
 Cristina said, in her husband's place. And had he not come to 
 Palazzo Vitali, thinking that it would at all events be politic to 
 improve his acquaintance with his cousin ? It was strange that 
 Ugo should have made that remark to his wife. The thought 
 that he had done so made Fabrizio feel ashamed of his calcula- 
 tions as to his chances ot succeeding Ugo. It was like Ugo's 
 generous nature to feel that he, Fabrizio, might not unnaturally 
 compare their respective positions, and to owe him no grudge 
 for doing so. As to wishing any harm to befall Ugo in order 
 that he should benefit by it, Fabrizio could honestly say to him- 
 self that Cristina had only done him justice when she declared 
 that she knew he would not be capable of such a wish. He did 
 not wish it, had never permitted himself to wish it. But, should 
 fate place him in his cousin's place, it would be acting the part 
 of a hypocrite towards himself to pretend that he would find 
 fault with fate. 
 
 Indignation at the bare suggestion that he should wish for 
 Ugo's death — for this, afier all, was what wishing him harm would 
 mean — made Fabrizio answer Countess Vitali's question more 
 frankly than he would probably have done. 
 
 " Of course," he replied, " I cannot pretend that I have never
 
 68 TEMPTATION 
 
 thought about the possibilities of my succeeding Ugo. You 
 would not believe me if I denied it. As you say, human nature 
 is human nature, and I should hardly be human if I never 
 allowed the thought to cross my mind that I am, at present, 
 Ugo's legal heir. But as to wishing any harm to him, no ! I am 
 not so base as that, Cristina, and I should hope that neither you 
 nor Ugo are capable of thinking it of me." 
 
 " Have I not told you so ? " said Cristina. " Of course I never 
 supposed you to be compassing Ugo's death in your thoughts ! 
 But you would certainly be scarcely human had you never 
 allowed yourself to think that he is, after all, mortal like the rest 
 of us, and that an accident or an illness might put you in his 
 place. Nor would you be altogether natural if you did not, with 
 your views of hfe, sometimes think that you could derive more 
 enjoyment out of that place than Ugo does. I should not 
 believe you if you declared to me that you did not sometimes 
 think so ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " Then," he said, " I will not attempt to 
 deny it ! Can you blame me if my view of enjoyment of life 
 differs from Ugo's ? " 
 
 "I?" returned Countess Vitali. "To whom do you say it? 
 Certainly not. But do not let us talk any more about it. As to 
 Ugo, well, he is strong, far more so than you, my friend. I am 
 afraid you must be patient ! " 
 
 " I should be an imbecile to allow myself to think seriously 
 about the matter," said Fabrizio. "At any moment," he added, 
 laughing, "you may cause the accident." 
 
 "//" exclaimed Cristina. 
 
 " But, of course ! you may be the cause of an accident that 
 would make me no longer Ugo's heir-presumptive. I should say 
 that it is a mere question of time ! " 
 
 "That," observed Cristina, "is scarcely a subject for con- 
 fidences. Do you know that it is nearly half-past six ? and here," 
 she continued, "comes Ugo, so I think you will agree with me 
 that it is quite time we changed the topic of conversation. You 
 have missed a friend this afternoon, Ugo," Cristina said to her 
 husband when he joined them j " the San Felice has been here,
 
 TEMPTATION 69 
 
 and was very much annoyed with you for being out. We are to 
 breakfast with her on Tuesday, Fabrizio and I, and you are to 
 come too." 
 
 "And no excuses, at any rate on your part, will be received 
 by the duchessa," said Fabrizio. "You are evidently au mieux 
 with the lady." 
 
 "Tuesday?" repeated Ugo — " let me think — yes, Tuesday. I 
 can go quite well." 
 
 " That is very fortunate," observed Cristina — " you are so 
 seldom disengaged in the mornings." 
 
 "Yes," answered Ugo, "it is very fortunate. Monday I have 
 a meeting in Viterbo, and Wednesday there is the hiring of the 
 reapers. And how was the duchessa? You had not met her 
 before, Fabrizio, had you ? You ought to get on well together — 
 did they, Cristina ? " 
 
 Cristina shook her head. "You must ask Fabrizio," she 
 said. " If you ask me, I should say only moderately well ! " 
 
 "Ah," replied Ugo, "she is not always very communicative to 
 strangers, but on Tuesday you will see how clever and agreeable 
 she can be. I am very sorry to have missed her this afternoon 
 Cristina, is it not nearly dinner time? I am very hungry. 
 What have you two been doing all the afternoon ? — talking about 
 books, I suppose. Ah, Fabrizio, you will find the San Felice 
 worth talking to ; she is a great reader, and knows all the people 
 best worth knowing in Italy — and in Europe too, I believe." 
 
 " Dinner will be ready in a short time, Ugo," said Cristina, 
 somewhat abruptly. 
 
 "Meglio cosi," said Count Vitali; "I must go and change 
 my clothes, I suppose. I wonder why it is that we should need 
 to change our clothes because we are going to eat something." 
 
 " It is one of the disadvantages of marrying a wife," re- 
 marked Cristina, and her husband burst out laughing, while 
 Fabrizio glanced at her and smiled.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 npHAT evening, when Fabrizio retired to his own room, he 
 -*■ felt less disposed towards sleep than usual. He tried to 
 read, but his thoughts resolutely declined to be forced to con- 
 centrate themselves on his book. Do what he would, they re- 
 verted to the conversation he had with Cristina that afternoon 
 after the Duchessa di San Felice had left them. Needless to 
 say, he had entirely dismissed from his mind the bad omen 
 which had disturbed his equanimity on the first night he had 
 passed in Palazzo Vitali. The crucifix above his bed had been 
 replaced in its original position, presumably by a devout house- 
 maid, and Fabrizio had not attempted to remove it. As to 
 Donna Giulia, she had certainly not given any signs of a desire 
 to revisit her apartment ; and Fabrizio, if he thought about her 
 at all, merely connected her in his mind with the ignorant folly 
 of those who could seriously believe that the dead were anything 
 else but dead and resolved into nothingness. All the same, the 
 vividness of his dream that night he had been weak enough to 
 pass on the sofa instead of in his bed remained curiously ini- 
 pressed on his memory, and he sometimes wondered at the 
 persistency with which it would return to his mind. 
 
 To-night, however, very different thoughts were rioting through 
 his brain. Never until that afternoon had Cristina spoken so 
 openly of the unsatisfactory conditions of her married life ; and 
 never before had Fabrizio found his cousin's wife more attractive 
 than when she had given him what he had every reason to 
 believe was her full confidence. This confidence had flattered 
 his vanity, for it was evident Cristina placed him on a very 
 different level intellectually from that upon which she con- 
 sidered her husband to stand. 
 
 But Countess Vitali had succeeded in doing more than flatter 
 Fabrizio's vanity, which would not, after all, have been a very 
 70
 
 TEMPTATION 71 
 
 difficult thing to do. She had succeeded also in arousing his 
 sympathy — and this to an extent of which he was as yet unaware. 
 He had begun to tell himself of late that it was certainly very 
 hard on a woman of Cristina's tastes and ambitions to find 
 herself condemned to lead the life of a farmer's wife^ without 
 the occupations that a farmer's wife would have. Ugo, no 
 doubt, was a buon diavolo ; and he, Fabrizio, only wished that 
 he were half so good a fellow as his cousin ; but, all the same, 
 Ugo was a fool. He could know nothing about women — that 
 was clear. Otherwise he would realise the risk he was running 
 in boring a woman like his wife to death by compelling her to 
 lead a life she hated, and not making any attempt to understand 
 her character and temperament. It must be a mere question of 
 time before a menage so conducted fell to pieces. Fabrizio, 
 like a large number of his conntrymen, had no very lofty ideals 
 in connection with women. He had very soon come to the 
 conclusion that whoever Cristina might be in love with, that 
 person was certainly not her husband. The conclusion had 
 neither surprised nor displeased him. It had not even particularly 
 interested him, since the situation was an incident of everyday 
 occurrence. What did interest him, however, was to discover 
 who it might be with whom she was in love ; and the fact of 
 being unable to discover that she was in love with anybody 
 interested him still more. But one, at least, of Cristina's dis- 
 closures that afternoon had surprised Fabrizio very considerably, 
 and caused him to wonder whether Ugo was so simple as he 
 appeared to be. The story of the anonymous letter concerning 
 the Duchessa di San Felice was at all events strange. Supposing 
 its contents to be true, then Ugo's wife might well feel that 
 she had another and more serious grievance against her husband 
 than the fact that he obliged her to lead a very dull and narrow 
 existence. Perhaps Ugo might not be such a fool after all! 
 For some reason or other, the Duchessa di San Felice might 
 not have been able to marry Ugo herself ; but that was no reason 
 why she should not have allowed him to marry somebody else — 
 especially a woman not quite of his own class, who would pro- 
 bably be satisfied with her new position, and whom it would be
 
 72 TEMPTATION 
 
 possible to regard more or less as a nonentity. But Cristina 
 was not a nonentity ; and if Ugo and the San Felice were really 
 carrying out il commodo loro at her expense, they would some 
 day find that she was doing the same thing at their own. But 
 Ugo, Fabrizio said to himself, must be a fool in other ways. 
 Was he blind to his wife's beauty ? — and could that beauty, full 
 blooded and voluptuous as it was, be compared with the more 
 refined charms of the San Felice ? Cristina might not be high- 
 bred. Indeed, when Fabrizio had seen her side by side with 
 the Duchessa di San Felice, he had realised more than ever that 
 she was not so. But if men only found pleasure in women who 
 were high-bred, there would be far fewer complications in the 
 world, and more virtue. 
 
 The night was still and warm; and Fabrizio, who had been 
 staring for some time at the open pages of his book, rose from 
 his chair and went to the window. There was no moon now, 
 and the nightingales were challenging each other to a tournament 
 of song in the deepest shadows of the gardens. The air was 
 heavy with the scent of orange-blossom, of roses ; and a night- 
 flowering creeper, hanging from a tall cypress tree under the 
 house, wafted the perfume of its waxen-white blossoms into the 
 room. The sensuousness of the scene was not without its effect 
 on him. The train of thought in which he had been indulg- 
 ing had been of an impersonal nature ; but, as he stood by the 
 window, the spell of the summer night, with its hot fragrance 
 and passionate song of the nightingales, was cast over him. His 
 thoughts, impersonal no longer, began to dwell upon Cristina's 
 beauty ; and for the first time he became conscious that admira- 
 tion of her beauty and curiosity as to her character had given 
 place to desire. He turned over in his mind all that Cristina 
 had said to him concerning her husband, and much that had 
 hitherto puzzled him seemed now to be clear enough. Given the 
 opportunity of not being so, would Cristina be faithful to her 
 marriage tie? Fabrizio, as he asked himself the question, had 
 already answered it ; and the answer sent the blood leaping more 
 quickly through his veins. If Ugo were such a fool as not to be 
 able to understand the woman he had married, some other man
 
 TEMPTATION 78 
 
 would certainly benefit by his folly. Some other man ! Fabrizio 
 started, and turned hastily from the window. His own thought 
 seemed to have been put into words by a voice not his own, a 
 voice he had heard before but could not identify. So clearly it 
 had sounded in his ear, as though spoken by some one at his 
 elbow, that for an instant he almost expected to find that he was 
 not alone in the room. Then, seeing nobody, he came to the 
 conclusion that he must unconsciously have uttered his thoughts 
 aloud. The interruption to his meditations turned the current 
 into a less dangerous channel. Whoever the other man might 
 eventually be, it was absurd to suppose that he himself could be 
 that individual. He was the last person in the world who should 
 take advantage of Ugo's incapacity to understand his wife's nature. 
 He had not come to Palazzo Vitali to make love to his cousin's 
 wife, but with a very different object in view, and a comparatively 
 harmless one. The influence which Cristina's beauty was be- 
 ginning to exert over him must be checked ; and he must watch 
 himself, lest sympathy might kindle into passion before he 
 realised the fact. Moreover, he, Fabrizio, and not Ugo, would 
 be the fool if he allowed himself to fall in love with Cristina. 
 Calmly considered, it would be entirely to his advantage were 
 Cristina to become an unfaithful wife. Ugo might separate from 
 her, but he could never marry again during her lifetime. In this 
 case, at all events, the fact of there being no divorce in Italy was 
 a distinct blessing, though the pandering to the superstitions of the 
 Vatican by the Government in not bringing in a divorce law was 
 a subject on which Fabrizio held the strongest views. No ! if 
 there were to be divisions and possible scandals, it was obvious 
 that, for his own future advantage, he must not be the cause of 
 them, however agreeable it might be to be Cristina's lover. It 
 was strange, Fabrizio thought, that Cristina should have questioned 
 him as she had done concerning his feelings as to the position he 
 occupied as Ugo's heir-presumptive. No doubt, however, it was 
 mere curiosity that had prompted her to do so ; and after all, she 
 had prefaced her questions by the admission that it would not be 
 natural had he never thought about his possible inheritance. 
 Oddly enough, he had thought but little about it since he had
 
 74 TEMPTATION 
 
 been beneath Ugo's roof. It had interested him more to study 
 his cousin's domestic life through his conversations with Cristina 
 than to indulge in dreams and speculations which would either 
 never be realised, or only be so when he would probably be an 
 old man. But to-night, perhaps owing to Cristina's allusions to 
 the subject, his thoughts dwelt with greater insistence on the fact 
 that one life only stood between him and comparative riches, as 
 well as a title which, although shorn of its former importance, 
 was among the oldest in the country. Cristina had certainly been 
 right in assuming that, were he in Ugo's place, he would make 
 much more of the position. He had been pleased to see that she 
 had quickly noted the difference between him and Ugo in their 
 respective ways of looking at life ; for Fabrizio, who knew no 
 other life than that of a section of Rome, prided himself above 
 most things on being a thorough man of the world. 
 
 Sleep came late to Fabrizio that night; but before it did so, he 
 had quite made up his mind that it was very necessary to keep 
 careful guard over himself, lest he should be tempted to an in- 
 discretion which might at the same time turn out to be an 
 irretrievable blunder.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "yiTTORIA DI SAN FELICE felt a little ashamed of herself. 
 ' Her expedition to Palazzo Vitali had been undertaken with 
 a distinct object in view; and that object was not merely to 
 perform an act of politeness in calling upon Countess Vitali. 
 The duchessa, moreover, was conscious of having told an 
 untruth — or rather, of having told only half a truth — which was 
 quite as bad and much less courageous. She had not driven 
 over to Palazzo Vitali for the sole purpose of congratulating the 
 Vitali on their having been left a fortune, and during the whole 
 of her visit she had felt irritated that both good taste and good 
 manners prevented her from saying so. For the first time in her 
 life, perhaps, Vittoria had not only condescended to listen to 
 gossip, but also to allow herself to be affected by it to the extent 
 of taking steps personally to ascertain how much, or how little 
 of that gossip might be true. People had called at the Villa 
 Falconara apparently to express their surprise that Count Vitali 
 should have no misgivings as to the wisdom of leaving his wife 
 to pass the greater part of her time alone with his cousin — a 
 young man of whom nobody at Viterbo had heard before. 
 Vittoria di San Felice did not in the least care whether her 
 visitors were surprised or not, and had conveyed to them her 
 indifference in a manner that was unmistakable, though leaving 
 nothing to be desired on the score of politeness. Nevertheless, 
 she had been obliged to own to herself that she was not in- 
 different. For some months she had suspected that Ugo's marriage 
 was not the ideal alliance she had hoped it would prove. The 
 Villa Falconara, though some six miles distant from Viterbo, 
 was close to an outlying part of the Vitali property ; and Ugo, 
 when his business took him that way, would occasionally ride 
 round by the duchessa's abode in order to pay her a visit. It 
 had not needed a woman's quickness of perception, of which she 
 
 75
 
 76 TEMPTATION 
 
 had something more than her share, to enable the Duchessa di 
 San FeUce to come to the concluson that her friend Ugo had not 
 found all he had expected in matrimony. Needless to say, Ugo 
 had never complained to her of his wife. He had, on the 
 contrary, complained rather of himself, holding himself re- 
 sponsible for the change he observed in her, inasmuch as the 
 life he was able to provide her with had apparently ceased to 
 satisfy her. Vittoria had agreed with him that the absence of 
 the interests which children would have brought into Cristina's 
 life was a very unfortunate affair. But she had agreed with him 
 on no other point. She could not bring herself to sympathise 
 with Countess Vitali's discontent with her life and surroundings, 
 the more so since these, after all, were very much better than 
 her birth could have given her any right to expect would fall to 
 her lot. Vittoria di San Felice, rightly or wrongly, considered 
 that it was no affair of hers to open Ugo's eyes to the obvious 
 fact that his wife was ambitious to see, and still more so, perhaps, 
 to be seen by the fashionable world. His evident inability to 
 realise that any life could be more satisfying than his own had 
 long been a characteristic trait in Ugo Vitali's nature that 
 Vittoria had always admired, even if she had sometimes been 
 secretly amused at it. She had seen enough of the world to be 
 able to appreciate simplicity and single-mindedness when she 
 came across such idiosyncrasies. They were rare qualities in 
 most countries ; and, as she was well aware, rarer still in her own. 
 
 So, when Ugo Vitali had consulted her as to what he could 
 do to make his wife more like her former self, Vittoria had not 
 suggested that he should let her see more of the world. The 
 former self alluded to by Ugo she suspected now to have been a 
 purely artificial self — assumed by Cristina for obvious purposes. 
 If she were to play into Cristina's hands by advising Ugo to 
 gratity his wife's ambitions, Vittoria felt that in all probabiHty she 
 would only be instrumental in bringing about more serious 
 trouble in the future. 
 
 The remarks which had been made to her during the last few 
 days, however, had caused Vittoria to wonder whether the world 
 might not be a safer place for Ugo's wife than Palazzo Vitali.
 
 TEMPTATION 77 
 
 For a good-looking woman to be thrown upon the society of a 
 young man all day and every day was a pdsition certainly not 
 devoid of risk ; and that the young man in this case happened 
 to be a cousin made it all the more dangerous. 
 
 And so Vittoria di San Felice, not without doing violence to her 
 feelings, had decided to try to find out for herself how matters 
 stood at Palazzo Vitali, and had sacrificed her pride to her friend- 
 ship for Ugo and her genuine interest in his domestic happiness. 
 
 As she drove her pair of strong, black cobs back to Villa 
 Falconara, the Duchessa di San Felice felt that her visit had not 
 been a success. She came away with few impressions, but with 
 plenty of suspicions. Perhaps the deepest among her impres- 
 sions was that Fabrizio Vitali was a detestable young man, with 
 an air of petit inaitre about him that particularly annoyed her. 
 Vittoria, knowing herself to be a difficult person where new 
 acquaintances were concerned, always tried to be charitable. 
 She wondered whether she should like Fabrizio better when she 
 had seen more of him. The worst of it was that he was 
 certainly good-looking — in his way. That way was not Ugo's ; 
 but this fact would only increase the probability of complications. 
 But the most doubtful feature in the whole business, the duchessa 
 thought, was the philosophy. Amateur philosophy was apt to 
 bear fruits as embarrassing as they were unexpected, when 
 studied by dilettanti of opposite sexes. Vittoria, dexterously 
 flicking a horse-fly from the neck of one of her cobs with her 
 whip, smiled as she thought of Cristina and Schopenhauer. 
 It was extremely improbable that the gossips of Viterbo had 
 ever heard of Schopenhauer ; but that, after all, was an accident 
 which was not likely to affect their opinion as to Count Vitali's 
 rashness in leaving his wife all day in the companionship of a 
 second cousin. 
 
 On the whole, Vittoria felt, she was not very much the wiser 
 than she had been when she was driving to Palazzo Vitali. 
 She had not, of course, expected that, always supposing there to 
 be anything between Cristina and Fabrizio, they would give them- 
 selves away to a stray visitor. Nevertheless she had trusted to 
 her woman's wits to enable herself to form some idea of the
 
 78 TEMPTATION 
 
 terms on which they were with one another. Cristina's manner 
 had completely baffled her ; and, on reflection, Vittoria had an 
 uneasy sensation that Countess Vitali had divined the primary 
 motive for her visit and had been engaged in the annoying 
 occupation of laughing in her sleeve. 
 
 The satirical smile she had noticed on her face when Cristina 
 had declared that her husband would certainly not make any 
 excuse as to being unable to breakfast at the Villa Falconara had 
 puzzled her, and the look cast at Fabrizio Vitali which had 
 accompanied that smile had puzzled her still more. Could it mean 
 that the excuses would come from Countess Vitali and Fabrizio, 
 and that Ugo would be sent over to Villa Falconara by himself? 
 
 At this stage of her reflections Vittoria told herself that she 
 was becoming too suspicious. She was already angry with 
 herself for having gone to Palazzo Vitali that afternoon, for, when 
 all was said and done, it would be no affair of hers if Countess 
 Vitali should choose to behave ill by her husband. 
 
 She received no excuses, however, from Palazzo Vitali, but 
 only a note from Cristina saying that she and Fabrizio would 
 drive over to Villa Falconara in time for breakfast, and that Ugo 
 would probably arrive before them, as he would be riding. 
 
 Villa Falconara was a good specimen of those palatial dwellings 
 erected in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, SD often to be 
 found in the country districts of Italy, and which, shorn of 
 their original splendour, present a melancholy, though always 
 picturesque appearance. As Vittoria di San Felice had told 
 Fabrizio, the villa had been one of the residences of the 
 Maidalchini family, so closely allied with the Pamphili Pope, 
 Innocent X., whose brother had become the second husband of 
 the formidable Donna Olimpia Maidalchini.* The house, a 
 great square pile of four storeys, absolutely devoid of any archi- 
 tectural features, stood on rising ground and at the edge of a tract 
 of macchia which had once been forest, and which still contained 
 solitary oak trees of respectable girth and age, groves of gnarled 
 
 • It is perhaps not generally known that Donna Olimpia Pamphili was the 
 widow of Paolo Nini of Viterbo, whose large fortune she brought to the 
 Pamphili family.
 
 TEMPTATION 79 
 
 ilex and stunted cork trees, and here and there a spreading stone 
 pine with its umbrella-like top. 
 
 If the Villa Falconara was not a beautiful structure externally, 
 its interior, or at all events that portion of it in which the 
 Duchessa di San Felice lived, was both stately and comfortable — 
 a rare combination in an Italian medijeval country villa. Not- 
 withstanding the size of the rooms, they conveyed no sense of 
 dreariness or neglect, such as so often depresses the visitor 
 to similar places in Italy. The apartments which Vittoria di 
 San Felice inhabited were as luxuriously furnished as any 
 great English or French country house of the present day. 
 Palms and masses of flowering plants tastefully distributed 
 effectually counteracted the stiffness inseparable from most 
 very large rooms ; while books and reviews, of all kinds and 
 nationalities, gave them the air of being lived in and not merely 
 used on special occasions of ceremony. 
 
 The Duchessa di San Felice was often quoted as being a very 
 extravagant woman ; and, by those of her compatriots of a more 
 old-fashioned school, was sniffed at as being altogether too foreign 
 in her ideas of what was necessary to make life comfortable. 
 Vittoria, fortunately, had a very good income for a single woman, 
 and she saw no particular reason why she should not live her life 
 as she chose ; or why, disliking ugliness in all its forms, she 
 should not have pretty things about her. The drawing-room of 
 Villa Falconara, where Vittoria di San Felice was awaiting the 
 arrival of her guests from Palazzo Vitali that Tuesday on which 
 she had invited them, bore ample testimony to the tastes of its 
 owner. Beautiful specimens of old Italian furniture, and valuable 
 pictures, more than one among which were known to the 
 ubiquitous buyers for American millionaires, were so arranged as 
 to harmonise with more modern surroundings. Vittoria was 
 wont to say that flowers and books were the great peace-makers 
 between objects of furniture inclined to swear at one another, and 
 perhaps she was not mistaken. 
 
 The windows of the drawing-room opened on to the garden, 
 and green awnings outside them tempered the fierce midday 
 glare into a soft, subdued light, while the splashing of a fountain
 
 80 TEMPTATION 
 
 was pleasantly suggestive of coolness. The Duchessa di San 
 Felice was not alone. A priest was sitting in the corner of a sofa 
 a short distance from her. He was an old man ; and, except 
 for a shrewd but at the same time benignant countenance, 
 insignificant-looking enough, differing only from the usual type of 
 Italian cleric in that he was scrupulously clean both in person and 
 attire. 
 
 Sitting cross-legged, a pair of neat shoes with shining silver 
 buckles were visible beneath his soutane. His frail, nervous 
 hands were lightly touching each other at the finger tips which 
 every now and then separated and came together again with an 
 almost rhythmical movement as he listened to Vittoria di San 
 Felice, while occasionally his eyes twinkled humorously. 
 
 "Sicuro," the duchessa was saying, "you are a buffer, Don 
 Basilio — nothing in the world but a buff"er — for the next few hours, 
 ben' inteso ! That is why I asked you to breakfast to-day. You 
 do not mind — no ? " 
 
 " Altro ! " replied the priest. " It is my usual employment, del 
 resto," he added drily. 
 
 " Your usual employment ? " repeated Vittoria. 
 
 "Certainly. A priest, you know," and Don Basilio paused. 
 
 Vittoria laughed. " Ah," she returned, " I understand. But in 
 this case I do not see who plays the role of Domeniddio. But 
 seriously, Don Basilio, I am very grateful to you for coming. 
 During breakfast, of course, it does not matter. But afterwards, 
 Vitali will not want only to talk to his wife — and I — well, I do 
 not think that I want to talk only to that young man — j'ou 
 understand ? " 
 
 Don Basilio's finger tips tapped each other more quickly. 
 " Perfectly," he replied. 
 
 " I think he is a detestable young man," observed the Duchessa 
 di San Felice meditatively ; " I am not sure, but I think so. He 
 talked nonsense." 
 
 " Cara duchessa," remarked the priest, " if he is only a detest- 
 able young man because he talked nonsense — " and he shrugged 
 his shoulders without completing his observation. 
 •' Intellectual nonsense," proceeded Vittoria.
 
 TEMPTATION 81 
 
 Don Basilio smiled. He had known the Duchessa di San 
 FeHce from the time of her marriage. Having been chaplain to 
 the old duke, Vittoria's father-in-law, he had continued to hold 
 the same position in the San Felice establishment ever since. 
 Being also the parish priest of a village on the San Felice 
 property near Villa Falconara, he did not live in the house ; but 
 every morning he said Mass for the household in the chapel of 
 the villa. Nobody, probably, knew Vittoria di San Felice more 
 intimately than did Don Basilio ; yet he was not her confessor. 
 Independent in her religion as in most other matters, Vittoria 
 preferred to keep her confessor in Rome rather than in her own 
 house. A sincere Catholic, she had at the same time not the 
 slightest intention of being managed by priests, and still less so 
 by any individual priest. Don Basilio, being a sensible man, had 
 never resented the arrangement. Indeed, he was the first to 
 recognise the advantage of not knowing more of the Duchessa di 
 San Felice's spiritual business than she thought fit to tell him. 
 His affection for her was that which a father might have for a 
 daughter, and to this affection was added a profound respect. 
 Don Basilio had been with the Duchessa di San Felice in the hour 
 of her bitterest trial and her most crushing sorrow — when the 
 news had been brought to Villa Falconara that her husband's 
 sailing boat had been lost with all on board but one of the crew. 
 Such moments beget intimacy of the deepest and most sacred 
 kind. When they beget respect as well, they are the foundations 
 of the surest friendship the world can know. 
 
 If Don Basilio smiled at Vittoria's last observation, it was 
 because he knew how impatient she was of a\\ poses, and of the 
 intellectual J>ose in particular. " What kind of intellectual non- 
 sense?" he asked : "there are so many varieties." 
 
 "He is giving the Vitali lessons in Positivist philosophy," 
 answered Vittoria. 
 
 Don Basilio raised his eyebrows. "And Count VitaH?"he 
 asked briefly. 
 
 " Count Vitali looks after his estate." 
 
 " He would do better to look after his wife," observed Don 
 Basilio. 
 
 F
 
 82 TEMPTATION 
 
 " So I should like to tell him," said Vittoria. " But that is one 
 of the many things one cannot say, even to an old friend. Indeed, 
 it would be easier to say it to a stranger than to a friend." 
 
 "A curious woman," said the priest pensively. 
 
 " Are you alluding to the Vitali, or to me ? " asked the 
 duchessa. 
 
 Don Basilio laughed. *' To Contessa VitaH, of course ! " he 
 replied. " God forgive me if I am uncharitable," he continued, 
 " but, whenever I have met that woman, I have felt myself to be 
 in the presence of something evil. I have never been able to 
 understand why Vitali married her." 
 
 Vittoria glanced at him with an amused look on her face. 
 
 " Caro Don Basilio," she remarked quietly, " if you had been 
 able to understand it, you would probably not be dressed as you 
 are ! " 
 
 Don Basilio spread out his hands with a rapid gesture. " Oh, as 
 to that, of course ! " he said. " But there are other things which 
 a sensible man looks at when he takes a wife. Ma via ! one 
 knows that where women are concerned argument is impossible." 
 
 Vittoria looked at him attentively. "You think the Vitali a 
 bad woman ? " she asked. 
 
 Don Basilio shook his head. "I should be sorry to say that," 
 he replied. 
 
 " But if you feel about her as you said just now ? " 
 
 " She may have evil in her and yet not be a bad woman. We 
 have all of us evil in our natures ; it is only when we let the evil 
 conquer us that we become bad." 
 
 Vittoria was silent. Although she had done her best in a quiet 
 and unobtrusive way to combat the prejudices she knew to exist 
 against Cristina, she had never found her simpatica. She had, 
 when in Countess Vitali's company, always felt herself to be in the 
 presence of a woman whose education was superior to her breed- 
 ing ; but of all people Vittoria di San Felice was the last to look 
 upon this as an offence. She had never, all the same, felt the im- 
 pression with regard to Cristina to which Don Basilio had con- 
 fessed ; and, knowing him to possess that charity and large-minded- 
 ness which so often are the gift of advanced years, she could not
 
 TEMPTATION 83 
 
 but wonder what it was that he had observed in Countess Vitali 
 to create so sinister an impression upon him. 
 
 In the midst of her reflections, the double doors at the end of 
 the room opened and a servant announced Count and Countess 
 VitaH. Vittoria rose to meet them, and presently introduced 
 Fabrizio to Don Basilio. 
 
 '* I drove with Cristina and my cousin," explained Ugo. " It 
 was really too hot to ride, as I had intended. You see, duchessa," 
 he added, smiling, "that I have not sent you an excuse !" 
 
 " I suppose you could not invent one that you thought the least 
 likely to be believed ! " returned Vittoria. " You must have had 
 a terribly hot drive," she continued to Cristina. " I am so glad 
 you have brought your cousin : after breakfast he must go over 
 the villa, and when it is a little cooler we can go into the gardens. 
 You can sit and talk to Don Basilio, Vitali, as you know the 
 place as well as I do ; so you need not be victimised." 
 
 A few minutes later, breakfast was announced, and Vittoria told 
 Don Basilio to give Countess Vitali his arm and lead her into the 
 room where it was served. " Your cousin must take me," she added, 
 addressing Ugo, "as I do not regard you in the hght of a visitor." 
 
 The breakfast itself was as excellent as the best of French 
 cooking could make it ; and very different in its refinement from 
 the dishes alia casalinga served up at Palazzo Vitali. This 
 difference was certainly not lost on either Countess Vitali or 
 Fabrizio. Cristina, indeed, observed everything minutely. The 
 excellence of the food seemed to be enhanced by its surroundings. 
 Roses delicately arranged, and chosen from one variety only, 
 decked the table; while all its accessories — china, plate, linen, 
 glass — were soignies to the last degree. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice was an admirable hostess at all times ; 
 and to-day she succeeded, without any apparent effort, in making 
 the conversation during the progress of the meal purely general^ 
 skilfully directing it into such channels as should be free from any 
 hidden rocks. 
 
 Breakfast over, she took Fabrizio's arm again, and led the way 
 to a room which she used as her own sitting-room, where the 
 servants presently appeared bringing coffee, cigars, and cigarettes.
 
 84 TEMPTATION 
 
 Motioning Fabrizio to sit near her, she drew his attention to 
 the celling of the room. " It was painted by Pietro Berrettini da 
 Cortona," she said to him; "he painted the frescoes in the 
 Palazzo Pamphili in Rome for Innocent X., and no doubt was after- 
 wards sent here by the Pope to execute work for the Maidalchini. 
 That," she added, pointing to the central figure among a group of 
 allegorical personages, " is said to be a portrait of Donna Olimpia, 
 whose room this is supposed to have been, though what grounds 
 there may be for the tradition I do not know." 
 
 " And does Donna Olimpia haunt Villa Falconara, as her sister 
 is said to haunt Palazzo Vitali ? " asked Fabrizio laughingly. 
 
 " Vitali ! " Vittoria called to Ugo, who was engaged in light- 
 ing a cigar at a little silver spirit-lamp. "Why did I never 
 know that you kept a ghost at Palazzo Vitali ? What does your 
 cousin mean ? " 
 
 " Did you never hear that Donna Giulia is said to walk through 
 the rooms on ihepiano iiobile ? " asked Ugo Vitali. " Don Basilio, 
 I am sure, knows the story — as he knows all the folklore of the 
 district," he continued. 
 
 Don Basilio nodded. " Sicuro," he said, " the people declare 
 that she comes back, poor soul, to revisit the scene of her crime. 
 As to Donna Olimpia, if she has the same punishment, perhaps 
 she returns to her Roman palace, or to the Vatican, or perhaps to 
 the house in Orvieto where her terrible death found her alone 
 with the remnants of her gold." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at him with a sarcastic smile on his hps. 
 " You speak as though you believed in the possibility of such 
 tales, reverendo ! " he observed. 
 
 Don Basilio shrugged his shoulders. " The spirits of the two 
 ladies are not in my keeping," he replied. " As to possibility, 
 or impossibility, I am no judge. With God all things are 
 possible." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice put her coffee cup down on a little table 
 beside her and rose from her chair. " I will take you through 
 the rooms," she said to Fabrizio, " and we will leave the others here 
 to smoke. There are a few good pictures, if you care for such 
 things."
 
 TEMPTATION 85 
 
 Fabrizio could do nothing less than accept his hostess's offer, 
 though he would have preferred to embark on an argument with 
 the priest. Vittoria, however, was determined to prevent any such 
 discussion as would have infallibly been the result had the subject 
 been pursued ; moreover, she had her own reasons for wishing 
 to improve her acquaintance with Fabrizio. After having shown 
 her guest one or two of the principal pictures the villa contained, 
 the Duchessa di San Felice had rapidly come to the conclusion 
 that art in any of its branches did not appeal to him. 
 
 "I gather, Signor Vitali, that you are what is called a free- 
 thinker, are you not ? " she said to him somewhat abruptly, seat- 
 ing herself as she spoke under a replica of the misnamed 
 Antinous in the Capitol, which stood at the end of a gallery con- 
 taining a small but valuable collection of sculpture. 
 
 " To be frank, yes," answered Fabrizio. " I hope," he added, 
 "that you are not scandalised, duchessa? " 
 
 Vittoria looked at him — more critically, certainly, than she was 
 aware was the case. *' Of course not," she said quietly. " Why 
 should I be scandalised ? It is a great thing to be able to 
 think at all ! Many people do not take the trouble to learn how 
 to do it. I suppose, then, that you believe in nothing. I mean 
 in no future state." 
 
 " Precisely. The present is all that I find myself able logi- 
 cally to believe in. Anything else must rest upon theory." 
 
 "And you have studied those theories, of course, and have 
 found them to be untenable. I always think that position must 
 be a most enviable one. You must feel perfectly contented, 
 perfectly secure. Nothing that you do, or do not do, can make 
 any difference, except, perhaps, for an uncertain number of years 
 or fractions of years. Yes ; it is decidedly an enviable position for 
 those who can arrive at it ! " 
 
 " But everybody can arrive at it ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " The 
 first step," he continued, " is tlie most difficult. It is always a hard 
 thing to free oneself from superstitions that one has been taught 
 from childhood." 
 
 "Ah," said Vittoria di San Felice quickly, "you experienced 
 that hardship ? "
 
 86 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Fabrizio Vitali carelessly, " I suppose 
 most people experience it. Besides, I have a mother who is very 
 devout. Of course, until I grew up I pretended to believe, 
 in order not to distress her. But one cannot keep up that 
 kind of thing later in hfe, however much one would like to 
 do so." 
 
 Vittoria looked at him curiously, but she made no remark. 
 
 "I can see that I have shocked you, duchessa," Fabrizio 
 continued, as the pause became somewhat prolonged. *' But, 
 surely, it is better to be an honest disbeliever than to pretend to 
 believe what is repugnant to one's own common-sense ? I know 
 plenty of men who pretend to be Catholics, and who go to 
 confession and make their communion merely to please their 
 families and to be well with the priests; while in reality they 
 regard the whole business as a farce, concerning which it is not 
 worth while to make a disturbance." 
 
 " I am not in the least shocked," said Vittoria : "as I 
 observed before, why should I be so ? These are questions each 
 one of us must settle with his or her own soul — and if you lose 
 yours, signore, that must be exclusively your affair and not mine ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " That is a logical way of putting it," he 
 returned. "Most people, duchessa, seem to think themselves 
 responsible for the souls of others, and make themselves objection- 
 able accordingly. When one has learned to disbelieve in the 
 myth of the human soul, however " 
 
 " Yes ? " said Vittoria interrogatively. 
 
 "Things become much simpler," concluded Fabrizio, a little 
 confused by his hostess's interruption, and fully conscious of the 
 weakness of his conclusion. 
 
 "I suppose so," observed the Duchessa di San Felice. 
 " Nothing makes life so complicated as a sense of responsibiHty. 
 It is bad enough to feel responsible for the present welfare of 
 other people's bodies — and as to responsibility for the future 
 welfare of their souls ! — but you, of course, feel none. You could, 
 for instance, do a person a great wrong, or cause another to do a 
 great wrong, without being troubled by any sense of responsibility 
 in the matter."
 
 TEMPTATION 87 
 
 " No, no ! " exclaimed Fabrizio, " that, forgive me, is not a fair 
 way of putting it ! Disbelieving in a future life, and, therefore, 
 in the human soul, does not imply irresponsibility towards our 
 fellow-creatures in the only life we have any reason to suppose 
 that we shall share in common, but quite the reverse. You 
 would reduce pure philosophy to pure selfishness, duchessa ! It 
 is, on the contrary, your Christianity that is the most selfish creed 
 the world has ever known. What unspeakable horrors have not 
 Christians in all ages inflicted on their fellow-creatures, simply as 
 a result of believing human beings to possess an immortal 
 soul destined to future reward or punishment ? " 
 
 " But you recognise a distinction between right and wrong — I 
 mean, morally speaking ? " 
 
 " Of course ! they are terms in which to express that which is 
 beneficial and that which is injurious to our social organisation. 
 In this sense we have, each of us, responsibility for our actions, 
 not so much towards the individual as towards society at large." 
 
 Vittoria rose from her seat, and began to walk slowly through 
 the sculpture gallery. " We are getting into very deep waters," 
 she said with a smile. " I cannot agree with you, and presently I 
 will show you why. We do not know each other well, but, all the 
 same, perhaps you will forgive me if I allow myself to ask you a 
 question. It might be an impertinent question, if I wanted an 
 answer to it, which I do not ! " 
 
 " Signora duchessa," replied Fabrizio — " per carita ! ask me 
 anything you choose, and, if I am able to answer your question, 
 I will do so willingly ! " 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice shook her head. " No," she said, " it 
 needs no answer. Some day, perhaps, you will have to ask it of 
 yourself, and answer it for yourself. Have you ever been face to 
 face with a great crisis in your life — a great temptation, or a 
 great sorrow ? If you have been so, and if you had no faith in 
 a future existence — no ideal beyond that of a mere opportunism, 
 you must be endowed with an exceptionally strong nature not to 
 have succumbed under the trial." 
 
 " I should hope," began Fabrizio eagerly. 
 
 Vittoria checked him with a little gesture of the hands. " Do
 
 88 TEMPTATION 
 
 not make my question an impertinent one," she said, smiling, 
 " Remember that 1 stipulated for no answer ! Do you see that 
 Hermes?" she continued. " It was found in sinking a well on a 
 tenuta near Capua, and is of the best period of Greek sculpture. 
 A London dealer makes me offers for it regularly twice a year, on 
 behalf of a client." 
 
 "And you cannot come to terms ?" asked Fabrizio. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked over his head at the Hermes. 
 " I do not answer the letters," she said coldly : " but apparently, 
 in certain matters, it is not easy to teach English and American 
 millionaires good manners, or good taste ! Shall we rejoin the 
 others ? " 
 
 On returning to Vittoria's sitting-room, sounds of children's 
 laughter reached their ears through the open doors, and they 
 found Ugo Vitali engaged in romping with her two little boys. 
 
 " Birboni ! " she said laughingly, as they rushed up to her, 
 " who told you that you might come here? Vitali, you spoil my 
 children disgracefully ! They always find out when you are here, 
 and behave badly in consequence." 
 
 The boys, aged nine and seven respectively, showed no 
 inclination to take their mother's remonstrances seriously, and 
 neither, for that matter, did Count Vitali. 
 
 " We are going into the garden presently," he said, " to sail 
 boats on the lake ; in short, we are going to amuse ourselves very 
 much." 
 
 " What have you done with Miss Wilson ? " asked Vittoria, 
 speaking in English. 
 
 " Her stomach hurts her," replied the younger of the two. 
 
 " She has an indigestion," corrected the other, casting a 
 triumphant look at his brother. 
 
 " Hush, Livio ! " exclaimed Vittoria, repressing a laugh. " How 
 often have I told you that one does not talk of stomachs in 
 English ? They will translate their Italian idioms into English," 
 she added to Cristina, " and the results are sometimes embarrass- 
 ing when their governess is present. She is a good soul, and 
 thoroughly to be trusted, but she has an indigestion once a week. 
 She says it is the cooking, though I order roast mutton for her
 
 TEMPTATION 89 
 
 whenever it is to be had, for I know that the English of a certain 
 class are miserable if they cannot eat mutton. Next year I must 
 get a tutor for the boys." 
 
 " It is better when they suffer from the stomach and not from 
 the heart," observed Don Basilio gravely ; " a little magnesia, and 
 everything passes well ; whereas " 
 
 " But, Don Basilio ! " interrupted Ugo, laughing. " Is he not 
 more incorrigible than Livio, duchessa ? " 
 
 "A great deal more incorrigible," replied Vittoria. "What 
 shall we give Don Basilio as a punishment, Livio ? magnesia, or 
 mutton ? " 
 
 " Or Miss Wilson ? " added Ugo. 
 
 " You are worse than either of them, Vitali ! " exclaimed 
 Vittoria, laughing. " And the punishment he suggests is out of 
 all proportion to the offence," said Don Basilio, his eyes still 
 twinkling at his little joke. 
 
 Cristina Vitali had moved away from her husband and the two 
 children, and was turning over some books lying on a table at the 
 farther end of the room. 
 
 " Ugo seems very devoted to children," observed Fabrizio, who 
 had joined her. 
 
 " So it appears," replied Countess Vitali indifferently. " I 
 never know what to say to children," she added ; " they bore me. 
 Having none of my own, I cannot be expected to take much 
 interest in those of other people." 
 
 " Then, perhaps it is as well that you have none of your own," 
 said Fabrizio. 
 
 " It is certainly as well for you that I am not likely to have 
 any," replied Cristina, in a low voice. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali could scarcely repress a start of surprise. It 
 was an admission of considerable moment to him, for he had 
 never expected to know definitely what his chances of succeeding 
 to the Vitali possessions might be. For an instant or two he 
 remained almost bewildered, and even shocked, at Cristina's 
 disclosure. It seemed to be carrying the confidence which, as 
 he had repeatedly assured her, was the natural outcome of their 
 mutual sympathy, a little too far. Moreover, there was a certain
 
 90 TEMPTATION 
 
 cynicism about the remark, a certain brutality, indeed, wliich gave 
 him a sudden feeling of repulsion. Involuntarily he glanced 
 across the room to where the Duchessa di San Felice was sitting, 
 her arm round her younger boy, who had clambered on to her 
 lap. Possibly Countess Vitali followed his glance, and at the 
 same time divined the thought that passed through his mind ; for 
 her eyes contracted and her brow lowered in the sulky frown of 
 the angry ciociara model she was said to resemble. The expres- 
 sion passed quickly, however, to be succeeded by a rapid and 
 furtive look at Fabrizio, who stood by her side in silence, not 
 knowing how to answer her. 
 
 "You think I ought not to have said that," she said, almost 
 beneath her breath — " that it was not womanly ? I do not know 
 what impelled me to say it. Perhaps the feeling that you might 
 be glad to hear it made me forget that one must not always speak 
 one's thoughts aloud ! What did the San Felice talk to you 
 about?" she added, with a sudden change in the tone of her 
 voice, as though to intimate that she wished to change the subject. 
 
 Fabrizio hesitated. " She showed me some of the pictures," 
 he said, " and we talked of various things." 
 
 " Of Ugo and myself, for instance ? " 
 
 "No, indeed ! she never mentioned either of you. I am sure 
 that the San Felice is a good woman, though evidently a strong 
 Catholic, notwithstanding her liberal ideas." 
 
 "Did she preach you a sermon on your infidelity to the Church?" 
 asked Cristina sarcastically. 
 
 Fabrizio was about to reply, when Vittoria came towards them. 
 " Please forgive me," she said to Cristina. " I am afraid the boys 
 have been tiresome ! I did not mean them to appear so soon, 
 but they escaped from the schoolroom when they heard your 
 husband was here. He has a very demoralising effect upon them, 
 ■contessa, as I always tell him." 
 
 " They are very handsome boys, duchessa," said Fabrizio. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " replied Vittoria ; and then she added 
 with a smile, " They are my responsibilities." 
 
 By this time Count Vitali and the two boys had already escaped 
 into the gardens, whither Vittoria proposed that they should be
 
 TEMPTATION 91 
 
 followed; "otherwise," she said, "they will all three begetting 
 into mischief." 
 
 The gardens of Villa Falconara, unlike those of Palazzo Vitali, 
 were carefully and well kept up. It was still too hot, however, to 
 remain for any time in the flower-garden, which was a long 
 parterre immediately beneath the house, a double flight of broad 
 marble steps leading down to it from the sculpture gallery. Wide 
 paths, flanked by orange and lemon trees now in full blossom, 
 intersected this parterre, the formality of which was relieved by 
 various fountains, as well as by the blaze of colour of the flower- 
 beds and herbaceous borders ; for Vittoria, having been often in 
 England, liked to copy English gardens, so far as the difference 
 in climate allowed. 
 
 Groves of ancient ilex trees surrounded this flower-garden, 
 among which were shady walks, and avenues guarded by quaint 
 leaden statues of gods and goddesses in a more or less mutilated 
 condition. In these glades quiet and coolness reigned, even 
 during the hottest hours of a summer day. The quiet was broken 
 now by the merry shouts and laughter of Vittoria's children, who, 
 assisted by Ugo Vitali, were sailing their boats on a piece of water 
 lying hidden away in the recesses of the woods. The surface of 
 the pool gleamed white and gold from a floating carpet of water- 
 lilies, while blue dragon-flies hawking for insects darted to and fro 
 after their prey, flashing like jewels in their setting of sunlight. 
 
 On a little island, connected with the mainland by a stone 
 bridge, stood a casino, its white walls nearly concealed under a 
 mass of climbing roses. Within it v/as a circular room entirely 
 faced with white marble, and this retreat was used during 
 the summer months as a place in which Vittoria di San Felice 
 often read, or wrote her letters. It was as comfortably fur- 
 nished as though it had been inside the villa, and here also 
 was a profusion of flowers perpetually renewed by Vittoria's head 
 gardener, who knew his padrona's love for them. 
 
 It was to this sanctuary that Vittoria di San Felice brought her 
 guests, and from the balcony of the casino they could watch Ugo 
 and the boys in a boat engaged in rescuing their sailing-boats 
 firom shipwreck among the leaves of the water-lilies.
 
 92 TEMPTATION 
 
 " I believe that Count Vitali is enjoying himself as much as the 
 boys are," Don Basilio said with a smile. " He certainly under- 
 stands how to make children happy," he added, " which is 
 a gift I like to see in a man," 
 
 Cristina smiled also, but it was not so genial a smile as 
 that of the priest. " Really, duchessa," she observed, " I had no 
 idea that my husband was of so domestic a nature ! It is the 
 first time, I think, that I have seen him with children." 
 
 Vittoria looked at her a little doubtfully. The words were 
 simple enough : perhaps only another woman would have been 
 able to detect the traces of a sneer in them. 
 
 '* After all," proceeded Countess VitaH composedly, " as Don 
 Basilio says, fondness of children — at any rate of other people's 
 children — is a gift in a man ; and, as you know, duchessa, 
 Ugo has no chance of exercising that gift at home." 
 
 " Cara contessa," said Vittoria gently, " let us hope " — and then, 
 remembering that both Fabrizio and Don Basilio were present, she 
 paused abruptly. " My little boys are devoted to your husband," 
 she continued, "and I am afraid he would spoil them if they 
 were more often in his company. By the way, Signor Vitali," 
 she added, turning to Fabrizio, " I promised to show you 
 the tree which, quite regardless of the fact that chestnut trees 
 do not live for four centuries, is declared to be the original 
 one that produced Pope Innocent X.'s miraculous roasted 
 chestnuts. You can see it from here," and she pointed to 
 a venerable Spanish chestnut standing some little distance 
 from the water's edge, the sweeping branches of which were laden 
 with prickly balls of vivid green. 
 
 " It would be interesting to be able to repeople Villa Falconara 
 with the Maidalchini for a few hours, and to see how they really 
 lived in those days," said Fabrizio. 
 
 " Ah, I often sit here and try to imagine Donna Olimpia, 
 and the idiotic nephew with the sheep's face whom she caused to 
 be made a cardinal, and all the entourage of the Pope's 
 court that she made her own, walking in these avenues and 
 planning their intrigues," repHed Vittoria. " This very casino in 
 which we are sitting was built by Don Camillo Pamphili, OHmpia's
 
 TEMPTATION 93 
 
 son, and doubtless she and the Pope often sat here on the 
 occasion of his famous visits to the villa." 
 
 "And my ancestress, Donna Giulia, also," said Fabrizio, 
 smiling. " Perhaps," he continued, "it was here that she 
 and her husband consulted with the Maidalchini as to the 
 best method of getting rid of her lover ! " 
 
 " No/' interposed Cristina, " I am sure that she thought 
 it all out for herself, — in the room you have, Fabrizio, at Palazzo 
 Vitali." 
 
 "Certainly," said Vittoria, laughing, "I had much rather that 
 you kept Donna Giulia at Palazzo Vitali ! I do not at all want her 
 here, and should be sorry to think she planned her crime in 
 my casino. Don Basilio, will you be so kind as to ring on 
 the telephone ? and when they answer, will you tell the servants to 
 bring tea to us here? You will not think of driving back to 
 Viterbo until it is a little cooler," she added to Cristina. 
 " In the meantime you and I will go for a little walk, and 
 leave your cousin and Don Basilio to discuss Donna Giulia's 
 iniquities together."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " T WONDER," remarked Fabrizio, " that the Duchessa di San 
 
 -*• FeUce does not marry again." 
 
 It was the day following the visit to Villa Falconara; and 
 Fabrizio was sitting in the apartment which, in virtue of a 
 dilapidated billiard-table and a few pointless cues, was called the 
 billiard-room. Cristina and he had been alone at breakfast, for 
 Ugo was absent for the day on business, as he had warned his 
 cousin the evening before that he should be. By this time it had 
 become quite natural to him to find himself alone for the greater 
 part of the day with his cousin's wife. Ugo, it was true, invariably 
 returned to breakfast ; but after that meal he would usually dis- 
 appear again until shortly before dinner-time. 
 
 It was now nearly a month since he had arrived at Palazzo 
 Vitali, and Fabrizio had enjoyed ample opportunities of accom- 
 plishing the object for which he had come there, namely, that of 
 improving his acquaintance with the relative whose possessions 
 might one day pass into his hands. As a matter of fact, however, 
 Fabrizio could not truthfully say to himself that he was on any more 
 intimate terms with Ugo than he had been at the commencement 
 of his visit. From the first, Ugo had treated him with the same 
 careless confidence with which any man of a frank and genial 
 nature might treat a kinsman whom he had no particular reason, 
 apart from the fact that he was a kinsman, to mistrust. Fabrizio 
 had soon come to the conclusion that, in the case of a camJ)agnuolo, 
 such as his cousin evidently was, there was not much to know, 
 and in this view of Ugo's character he had been confirmed by 
 many remarks which Cristina had let fall in the course of theii 
 conversations together. 
 
 By degrees, and by a mutual consent never openly expressed 
 in words, it had become a habit with both Fabrizio and Countess 
 Vitali to reserve the more interesting topics of these conversations 
 
 94
 
 TEMPTATION 95 
 
 for the hours when Ugo was not present. The banalitis only were 
 kept for discussion during meals and in the evenings. Occasion- 
 ally, when he and Fabrizio were alone together after Cristina had 
 retired for the night, Ugo would comment with satisfaction on 
 his wife's improved spirits, which he laughingly attributed to the 
 fact of Fabrizio having awakened in her an interest in books and 
 philosophical arguments. So long as Ugo was content, and 
 entirely unapprehensive lest interests of a more material nature 
 might not be awakened, Fabrizio saw no reason to disclaim any 
 connection on his part with the alteration in Cristina's frame of 
 mind upon which her husband congratulated himself. Moreover, 
 he was by no means sure as yet that the pleasure Cristina 
 apparently took in his society, and the interest she displayed in 
 his conversation, were other than purely platonic and innocuous. 
 That his own interest in his cousin's wife was indubitably becom- 
 ing less and less platonic as the days succeeded each other, 
 Fabrizio was beginning to be fully aware. He was too sure of 
 himself, however, to fear lest his feelings should betray him into 
 taking any false step. Did not Schopenhauer contend that Will 
 alone was the determinating factor in human life, and that both 
 thought and intellect were but secondary accessories ? And even 
 should passion threaten to conquer Will, his own interest must 
 prove an additional safeguard against allowing passion to gain the 
 ascendancy ; since, as he often told himself, whoever might in 
 the future play the part of "the other man "in Ugo's menage, 
 that individual must clearly not be Ugo's presumptive heir. 
 
 Countess Vitali, who was idly turning over the pages of a novel, 
 looked up quickly as Fabrizio spoke. "Why should she marry 
 again?" she asked: "the San Felice has everything she can 
 want in life, and of course her retirement from the world to Villa 
 Falconara for a few months in the year is all a pose. A woman 
 with her position and fortune is always in touch with the world. 
 Apparently she has made a great impression on you, Fabrizio \ 
 but for that matter, she does so on most men ! " 
 
 " All the more reason for wondering why she does not marry 
 again," replied Fabrizio. 
 
 "She hkes her independence," Cristino said : "after all," she
 
 96 TEMPTATION 
 
 added, " it is a great thing for a woman to possess, and a rare 
 thing. What did she mean when she spoke of her children to 
 you as being her responsibihties ? You must have had some 
 serious conversation together while she was showing you the villa. 
 I could not ask you before Ugo ; one cannot discuss the San 
 Felice before him, for he regards her as a piece of perfection ! " 
 
 Fabrizio hesitated. He would have preferred not to have been 
 asked the question. He had seen Cristina look at him enquiringly 
 when the duchessa had made the remark to which she alluded, 
 but he hoped that she had forgotten the circumstance. Vittoria's 
 words had returned to his mind somewhat persistently. What 
 she had said to him regarding the danger of being without any 
 faith in futurity, and, therefore, without any sense of responsibiUty 
 for the future of oneself or of others in the critical moments of 
 life, had been said with an earnestness that was unmistakably sin- 
 cere, and as unmistakably prompted by motive. The suspicion 
 as to what that motive might be had immediately entered into 
 Fabrizio's mind, and caused him some uneasiness. But it had at 
 the same time caused him to wonder whether the Duchessa di San 
 Felice might not be more in Ugo's confidence than even Cristina 
 had led him to suppose. It was impossible to believe that Ugo 
 had expressed to the San Felice any fears lest a cousinly intimacy 
 between his wife and his guest should develop into an intimacy 
 of another nature, but he might in all innocence have talked 
 to the duchessa in the same strain as that in which he had talked 
 to him, Fabrizio, concerning the evident pleasure that Cristina 
 found in discussing abstruse matters with him ; and the duchessa, 
 being a woman, might have jumped at conclusions very different 
 from any that Ugo, in his simple-mindedness, would be at ?.ll 
 likely to form. " Of course," proceeded Cristina, looking at Fabrizio 
 inquisitively, " children are supposed to be a responsibility. The 
 Felice need not have wasted her breath in telling you as much ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed a little uneasily. "You were quite right, 
 Cristina, when you suggested that she had been preaching me a 
 sermon on my infidelity to religion ! " he repHed. " She declared 
 that nobody could have any sense of responsibility, either personal 
 or impersonal, who did not believe in a future life. That, of
 
 TEMPTATION 97 
 
 course, is the usual argument of the Catholics, but it is a very 
 weak argument." 
 
 " What does she mean by impersonal responsibility ? " 
 
 "Ah, the expression is mine. She meant a sense of re- 
 sponsibility towards others, responsibility for their actions, I 
 suppose — I hardly know what she did mean. Religious 
 people are very seldom logical." 
 
 " As regards the difference between their preaching and their 
 practice, do you mean ? " asked Cristina. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " No," he replied, " I did not mean 
 that, though the difference is often very apparent to all but 
 themselves." 
 
 Countess Vitali knitted her brows. " It is very apparent to 
 me that you do not want to tell me what the Duchessa di San 
 Felice really did mean ! " she said impatiently. 
 
 " You do not like her," returned Fabrizio, diplomatically avoid- 
 ing any more direct reply. 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. " Ma ! " she exclaimed, 
 " can you expect me to like her, knowing what I know ? " 
 
 Fabrizio stared at her. " What do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " But you are dense to-day, caro mio cugino, decidedly dense ! 
 Have you forgotten what I told you about the letter I received ? 
 and your own suggestion as to the origin of that letter? No 
 doubt the San Felice is a very religious woman, and makes very 
 edifying remarks as she seerns to have done to you. She is in 
 love with my husband all the same." 
 
 " Cristina ! " Fabrizio exclaimed. 
 
 " There is nothing surprising in the fact," continued Countess 
 Vitali tranquilly. " I do not say that Ugo is in love with her 
 now ; but that accident would not prevent her from being still 
 in love with him." 
 
 " Then you believe what that letter said ? " 
 
 " And why not ? " 
 
 " In that case," observed Fabrizio, "the San Felice is extremely 
 unlikely to have been the writer of it. I thought you did not 
 believe it, or I should not have suggested that the duchessa 
 herself had written it." 
 
 G
 
 98 TEMPTATION 
 
 " I am sure she wrote it," Cristina replied doggedly. " It 
 is just the thing that a jealous woman would do." 
 
 " But not the San Felice, I think." 
 
 Cristina's eyes flashed angrily. " I believe you are in 
 love with her yourself ! " she said, with a short laugh. " Why 
 should you suppose her to be above writing an anonymous 
 letter?" 
 
 " She is not that kind of woman. Besides, if she is in love with 
 Ugo, her object surely would be to keep the fact from you. 
 Why should she go out of her way to enlighten you ? " 
 
 " In order to make my life more detestable than it is ! " 
 
 Fabrizio was silent. In Cristina's reasoning, the suspicious- 
 ness of the peasant — dull and ever ready to look to the lowest 
 motives — showed itself clearly. It was true that Fabrizio Vitali's 
 life had not brought him into much contact with the peasant 
 class, but he knew enough of its characteristics not to labour 
 under any romantic or sentimental ideas as to their simplicity, 
 the said simplicity being rarely to be found except in that purely 
 imaginary type created by foreign novelists. 
 
 " You mean to say," he replied, at length, " that you think 
 the San Felice capable of deliberately opening your eyes to the 
 existence of some — well, let us call it understanding, between 
 herself and Ugo in order to make bad blood between him and 
 you " 
 
 " For her own benefit, yes ! " interrupted Cristina. " Did I 
 not tell you that she is jealous ? She has allowed Ugo to marry 
 me, but she has no intention of permanently losing him as a 
 lover, none at all ! I daresay you wonder why I confide such 
 matters to you." 
 
 " Yes — why ? " asked Fabrizio quickly, 
 
 "Who else have I to confide in?" exclaimed Cristina 
 abruptly. " Besides," she added, with a constrained laugh, 
 " confidence is a result of sympathy, is it not?" 
 
 " Yes," said Fabrizio ; " but " 
 
 "But?" 
 
 " Confidence and sympathy between you and me are dangerous 
 things. I have begun to realise the fact."
 
 TEMPTATION 99 
 
 Countess Vitali gave him a quick look, and a momentary gleam 
 came into her eyes, whether of satisfaction or of a certain 
 malicious amusement Fabrizio could not tellj but it was not one 
 of displeasure, of that he was sure. 
 
 "Why do you say that your life is detestable, Cristina? It 
 is a terrible thing to say. After all, Ugo cares for you, and in 
 time you will probably succeed in getting him out of his groove, 
 and in making him understand that he cannot keep you per- 
 petually here at Viterbo. I know that as yet he does not 
 understand. He thinks that you are only suffering from dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 " From disappointment ! " re-echoed Cristina. 
 
 "Yes, in not having children." 
 
 Christina laughed. " So," she said, " it seems that you are 
 the confidant of both the husband and the wife ! It is certainly 
 a curious position. And you believe Ugo ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Of course you do not believe him ! you have too much 
 penetration. And, moreover, you know me better than you 
 know him. As to the matter of the children, that is an invention 
 of Ugo's — an excuse. I am thankful that I am never, as I have 
 already told you, likely to have a child. But if you think that 
 Ugo can be persuaded to leave his groove, as you call it, it only 
 shows how little you know him — as little as I did when I married 
 him ! " 
 
 " Then you look upon your marriage as a mistake." 
 
 " As a colossal mistake." 
 
 " Marriage usually is a mistake," observed Fabrizio, " and, in our 
 country, it is still a mistake that cannot be remedied, thanks to 
 our childish fear of offending the priests." 
 
 " But you must not think that I complain," said Cristina 
 hurriedly ; " we must all of us take the consequences of our 
 mistakes. I suppose that in marrying me, Ugo thought that he 
 was marrying a good massaia who would be content to lead a 
 simple country life." 
 
 " And you, in marrying him, what did you think ? " asked 
 Fabrizio, looking at her curiously.
 
 100 TEMPTATION 
 
 For a moment or two Cristina did not reply. Then she said 
 suddenly, " Why should I not tell you the truth ? I knew that 
 Ugo was desperately in love with me — with my body, I mean, not 
 with myself! I thought that I should be able to make him do 
 what I wanted, to give me a position in the world. That was 
 my mistake. I should have married a man who understood me, 
 not a man who merely gloated over my face and my form ! Surely 
 you, of all people, can understand what I mean, Fabrizio ! I am 
 an ambitious woman, I do not deny it. I would have liked to 
 see my husband a statesman, a politician, anything that brought 
 him and me into contact with the great world. Instead of that, 
 I have married a farmer who does not know how to turn the 
 advantages of possessing lands and a title to any account, and 
 who cannot understand anybody having a mind above horses, 
 and cattle and crops ! " 
 
 "Then you married for ambition only; love did not enter into 
 the matter, on your side ? " 
 
 "That depends upon what you mean by love," answered 
 Cristina slowly. "Women are apt to mistake passion for love. 
 Men make no mistake between the two, unless they are very 
 young men. They only pretend to do so. Afterwards, it is the 
 woman who remains destilusionee." 
 
 " But Ugo," Fabrizio said hesitatingly, " Ugo has something 
 more than mere — well, than mere passion for you, Cristina. You 
 must forgive my frankness. You and I can afford to dispense 
 with conventionalities. No, I think you misjudge the nature of 
 Ugo's affection for you, or rather, you forget that he is incapable 
 of a passion that is intellectual as well as merely physical." 
 
 Countess Vitali was certainly not an angler. Nevertheless, 
 seeing that her fish was disposed to make a run, she was quite 
 prepared to let him have as much line as might be judicious. 
 
 "No," she said quietly, "I do not forget it, Fabrizio. It is 
 one of my desillusions, which must be borne with the rest. But 
 it is quite right of you to be loyal to Ugo," she added ; " and it is 
 because I know you are so that I feel I may talk openly to you — 
 as one of the family, so to speak. No doubt it is this feeling 
 which has led me to give you my confidence ; this, and realising
 
 TEMPTATION 101 
 
 that you understand what we have agreed that Ugo could never 
 understand." 
 
 "Are you so sure that he cannot understand? He has, for 
 example, a great admiration for the Duchessa di San Felice. Yet 
 nobody can accuse the San Felice of interesting herself only in 
 cattle and crops." 
 
 " And why should it not be due to those other causes ? " 
 
 " For the best of reasons. He married you ! Surely that is a 
 proof of the physical type which appears to his — sense of admira- 
 tion. The Duchessa di San Felice and the Contessa Vitali are 
 as different as the moon is different from the sun. You could 
 not both appeal to the same man's passions : it is impossible, or, 
 at any rate, it is improbable ; for where a man's passions are con- 
 cerned nothing is impossible." 
 
 "Or a woman's," interposed Cristina quickly. "The San 
 Felice, your moon, is, like Diana, not always cold ! " 
 
 "Are you comparing Ugo with Endymion?" asked Fabrizio 
 laughing. " He is certainly more robust than Endymion is usually 
 represented as being, and also rather older." 
 
 "Si capisce ! " said Countess Vitali drily, "it is a question of 
 temperament. I know nothing about Diana's temperament ; 
 perhaps she liked very young men." 
 
 Fabrizio chuckled. "Where did you learn your psychology, 
 Cristina," he asked, " in your convent ? " 
 
 "Your visit to Ugo has been a great comfort to me," said 
 Countess Vitali, a little irrelevantly. " There was nobody with 
 whom I could discuss these things. Except yourself I do not 
 suppose that I have a friend in the world. It is a pity that you 
 and Ugo are so different." 
 
 "Would you prefer that I should be like him?" Fabrizio 
 rose from his chair as he spoke and stood beside Cristina's 
 sofa. 
 
 "No," she replied in a low voice, "no, I should prefer the 
 reverse." 
 
 Their eyes met, and both remained silent for a space. 
 
 Suddenly Cristina laughed. "Let us be children," she said, 
 " and play at pretending. Did you never play at pretending when
 
 102 TEMPTATION 
 
 you were a child, Fabrizio ? We will pretend that Ugo is dead — 
 that Ugo never existed, but that you are he. Yes, you are Count 
 Vitali, and you have money, and lands ; and — and a wife who is 
 not ugly, via ! Do you shut yourself up in this dilapidated old 
 palace, and let the world pass by you? I think not. You use 
 your money and your position to moke a name for yourself, in 
 politics, in literature — anything ! And your wife helps you. A 
 wife who is ambitious — and who is not ugly — is a useful com- 
 panion in life " 
 
 " If she loves her husband," interrupted Fabrizio. 
 
 Countess Vitali clapped her hands. " Bravo, Fabrizio ! " 
 she exclaimed, " I see you can play the game. Sicuro ! if she 
 loves her husband. But of course, in your case, we must assume 
 that you married for love, and not for the other reasons only, 
 and that the woman you married was not taken by you as faufe 
 de mietix ! Now it is your turn to pretend. What would you 
 do with your life under such conditions? Would you do as 
 Ugo does ? " 
 
 " I do not see that it is of any use to pretend," said Fabrizio, 
 almost sullenly. 
 
 " What would you do ? " insisted Cristina, looking up at him 
 from her sofa. 
 
 '* I should live, and not vegetate as Ugo does ! But I do not 
 like your game, Cristina, it gives me " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Thoughts I would rather keep out of my mind. Why do 
 you so often make me think what I would do if I were in Ugo's 
 place? Ugo is a much stronger man than I am. He will 
 probably outlive me by many years. It is absurd, your game, 
 since we are not children ! Moreover, I hate the subject. It 
 makes me feel as though I wished some harm to befall Ugo, 
 when I know that I wish nothing of the kind. But you do not 
 wish him well, Cristina. Sometimes I think that you hate 
 him ! " 
 
 Countess Vitali glanced at him quickly, and there was an 
 angry gleam in her eyes, which disappeared, however, as rapidly 
 as it came. "My dear cousin," she said, with a slight laugh,
 
 TEMPTATION 103 
 
 " it is you who are absurd, not my innocent little game ! Why 
 should you jump to the conclusion that I hate my husband 
 simply because I have confided to you that he made a mistake 
 when he married me? Do you not say yourself that most 
 marriages turn out to have been a mistake for one or the other 
 of the people concerned ? But between realising that one has 
 been mistaken in a person's character and hating that person, there 
 is, surely, a wide difference. As to making you feel that you 
 wish harm to Ugo, we have discussed that point before. Of 
 course I know that you do nothing of the sort ! Evidently, 
 Fabrizio, you do not understand me as I believed you to do; 
 you do not reaUse that I have no one else to confide in except 
 yourself." 
 
 " Forgive me, I had no reason to say what I said," exclaimed 
 Fabrizio penitently. "You are quite right. It is I who am 
 absurd." 
 
 " After all," continued Cristina, apparently without noticing 
 his apology, "one never knows what may happen. Have you 
 ever realised what a misfortune it would be for you if I were to 
 die? Ugo would certainly marry again. Very likely he would 
 marry the San Felice and have children. She is not too old to 
 have more children, you know. You ought to say your prayers 
 that I may outlive Ugo." 
 
 "Cristina!" exclaimed Fabrizio, "per carita ! Have I not 
 told you that I do not wish to think of certain things ? Let us 
 talk of something else. Do you know that I have been here 
 more than a month? It seems to me that it is quite time I 
 returned to Rome." 
 
 " It is incredible that you should have been able to endure 
 our life here for so long ! " observed Countess Vitali drily. 
 "You had better confess it," she added, "you are becoming 
 horribly bored ! " 
 
 " It would have been easy to go away before, if that was the 
 case," Fabrizio replied. 
 
 " Then why do you want to go away now ? " 
 
 " I do not want to go ! " 
 
 Cristina gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "If you do
 
 104 TEMPTATION 
 
 not want to go," she returned, "why do you not stay? Are you 
 afraid of outstaying your welcome ? You will not do that." 
 
 " It would be wiser of me to go away." 
 
 Cristina looked at him inquiringly for a moment. Then the 
 expression of her face suddenly changed to one of suspicion. 
 " The San Fehce has been trying to make mischief between you 
 and me," she said contemptuously. " Why do you believe what 
 she says ? I know that she talked to you about me yesterday." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her in astonishment. " I assure you that 
 she never mentioned your name, Cristina," he replied. "We 
 talked of — well, of things and not of people." 
 
 Cristina was silent for a moment. "And so you mean to go 
 away," she said presently. "You will go back to Rome and 
 forget all about us ! I am sorry." 
 
 "You are sorry?" repeated Fabrizio, and then he paused. 
 " I am not likely to forget all about you ! " he continued slowly, 
 " I think you know that, without my saying it ! that is the 
 reason why, as I said just now, it is wiser for me to go, before 
 it is too late." 
 
 " It need never be too late ! " answered Countess Vitali softly ; 
 "and you are too scrupulous, amico mio, much too scrupulous. 
 Of course you cannot stay here indefinitely ; no doubt there are 
 many at Viterbo who think that you have been here long enough 
 as it is. But there is nothing like accustoming people to an 
 idea, and very soon your presence here would come to be 
 regarded as perfectly natural. After all, Rome is so near; and 
 what could be more natural than that you should often come to 
 Palazzo Vitali ? " 
 
 Fabrizio was silent. His instinct warned him that Cristina 
 was leading him on to dangerous ground, and that she was 
 doing so, moreover, with a deliberation of purpose that she 
 apparently scarcely troubled herself to conceal. This last thought 
 was gratifying to his vanity ; and it was also stimulating to those 
 feelings which he could no longer pretend to himself that his 
 cousin's wife had not aroused in him. 
 
 Cristina Vitali sat silently watching him from beneath her heavy 
 eye-lashes. " I am afraid — " Fabrizio said at length hesitatingly.
 
 TEMPTATION 105 
 
 "Of what? of me?" 
 
 " Of you, yes, and of myself. It would have been better not 
 to take me into your confidence, Cristina ! " 
 
 " Perhaps. I am only a woman. Men are more cautious 
 than women, more careful to consider their own interests. You 
 are afraid of compromising yourself, is it not so ? " 
 
 " You are unjust ! Have I not told you that I do not wish 
 any harm to happen to Ugo ? and certainly I do not wish harm 
 to come to him through me. That is not fear of compromis- 
 ing myself." 
 
 " What do you mean, Fabrizio ? " asked Cristina hastily. " I 
 do not understand. What harm could Ugo suffer from our 
 friendship ? No doubt people would gossip, they always do ! 
 but Ugo is the last person to have any right to resent our friend- 
 ship. Has he not the San Felice ? " 
 
 " It is not a parallel case," said Fabrizio quickly. " You are 
 not the sort of woman to inspire a platonic friendship. That is 
 why I am afraid of you, and of myself ! " 
 
 The room in which they were sitting was already darkened, for 
 the sake of coolness, by the closed shutters outside the windows, 
 but during the last few minutes the light had gradually faded into 
 a semi-obscurity. Cristina rose from her sofa and, going to one 
 of the windows, threw open the persiennes. The sun was hidden 
 behind a mass of inky-black clouds rolling slowly up from the 
 southward, and not a breath of air stirred the tops of the cypress 
 trees in the gardens beneath the house. All Nature seemed to 
 be lying under the spell of a hushed expectancy ; for even the 
 cicale had ceased their metallic rattle, and deep silence reigned 
 everywhere. 
 
 "The air is suffocating," exclaimed Cristina, " we are going to 
 have a terrible storm ! You say that you are afraid, Fabrizio — I 
 do not mean of the storm, but of yourself and of me ? But you 
 are only afraid because I happen to be Ugo's wife. Why do you 
 not confess it ? " 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her earnestly. " That is true," he replied, 
 "you are Ugo's wife. Otherwise — " and his eyes said the rest. 
 
 Cristina smiled a little satirically, but she made no remark
 
 106 TEMPTATION 
 
 " You seem to be amused ! " Fabrizio continued, and there was 
 an offended tone in his voice. " But you do not understand. 
 You imagine that I am afraid of making an enemy of Ugo, 
 lest I should injure my own prospects in the future. It is not 
 that ; but, I should feel ashamed of myself for deceiving Ugo. 
 He has implicit confidence in us both, because I bear the same 
 name, can you not understand ? I see nothing to amuse you in 
 the fact that I do not want to betray that confidence ! " 
 
 "I am amused at the difference between your theories and 
 your practice," replied Countess Vitali. " Notwithstanding your 
 theories as to the immorality of marriage in the present state of 
 human society, you are more scrupulous than many people who 
 are by way of being devout Catholics ! I believe that you would 
 make a model husband ! " 
 
 Cristina laughed as she uttered this last sentiment, but her 
 laugh was accompanied by a swift look at her companion. 
 
 " I believe I should be a very jealous husband, if I were 
 married to you," returned Fabrizio, laughing also. He was not 
 sorry that Cristina seemed to be disposed to give a less serious 
 tone to the conversation ; and yet, at the same time, he upbraided 
 himself for his timidity. His ideal of woman was not a high 
 ideal. Foreigners from the north are apt to marvel at the 
 restrictions by which Italian women are surrounded, and to laugh 
 at the precautions taken to guard unmarried girls, and even 
 middle-aged spinsters from possible contamination on the part of 
 the opposite sex ; while Italian husbands, from " il Moro " of 
 Venice downwards, have always been bye-words for jealousy. 
 Fabrizio Vitali, however, was not of the north ; and hitherto his 
 creed concerning women, married or single, provided that they 
 were attractive, was limited to a careless determination to obtain 
 from them all the satisfaction they might be induced to afford him. 
 Had any one told Fabrizio that he would have hesitated to take 
 advantage of a favourable opportunity of making love to a 
 beautiful woman merely because she happened to have a 
 husband, he would probably have considered himself to be 
 insulted by the suggestion. He was unable, therefoie, to explain 
 satisfactorily even to himself his present hesitation. He could
 
 TEMPTATION 107 
 
 scarcely doubt, after the language something more than suggestive 
 which Cristina had allowed herself to use, that any advances he 
 might make would not be rebuffed ; nevertheless, he was 
 conscious of a vague sense of some peril he could not define. 
 
 " Do you think I should give you cause to be jealous, if you 
 were married to me ? " asked Cristina. 
 
 " Do you think so ? that is more to the point ! " replied 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 "No," said Countess Vitali slowly. "But what is the use of 
 discussing the subject ? " she added. " As I have already told 
 you, I have long realised that our marriage, Ugo's and mine, was 
 a mistake. I am quite frank with you on that matter. He 
 married me because he could not marry the San Felice, and I 
 married him because — because I thought he could give me the 
 hfe I wanted. To Ugo, the mistake does not matter so much, 
 he has his friend the Duchessa di San Felice." 
 
 "You do not believe that there is anything more than 
 friendship between them ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " You have 
 said so yourself to me more than once." 
 
 " Chi lo sa ? " returned Cristina abruptly. " But even if the 
 friendship be merely platonic, it is better than nothing — no ? " 
 
 "I am not sure," Fabrizio said. " Under certain circumstances 
 I should prefer nothing ! As I told you just now, you are not the 
 Duchessa di San Felice, and " 
 
 A vivid flash of lightning, instantly followed by one of those 
 sharp crashes of thunder denoting the immediate vicinity of the 
 storm, interrupted him. The centre of the mass of black thunder- 
 cloud had changed in colour to a deep, angry purple ; and a 
 sound, which was not that of wind, gradually increased from a 
 distant murmur to a hissing, crackling roar. The tops of the 
 cypress trees swayed gently as a breath of icy-cold air reached 
 them, and then the purple pall lowering above them seemed 
 suddenly to dissolve itself into a white mist as a storm of 
 hailstones, some round and large as pigeons' eggs, and others 
 jagged pieces of ice, swept over the gardens and rattled against 
 the front of the house with a noise like a discharge of musketry. 
 
 Countess Vitali, who had retreated from the open window,
 
 108 TEMPTATION 
 
 momentarily startled by the flash of lightning, rushed to it again 
 and leaning out endeavoured to close the persiennes. "The 
 hail ! " she exclaimed. " There will not be a pane of glass left, 
 Fabrizio ! " The shutters however were refractory, and Cristina 
 was unable to detach them from the iron catches. A second 
 flash, blue, and accompanied by a sound like the crack of a whip, 
 seemed to encircle her in a blaze of light, and she started back 
 from the window with a little cry of pain. 
 
 "Cristina ! " Fabrizio shouted, "for God's sake come away, the 
 lightning is too near ! I will close the persiennes. Good 
 heavens ! " he added, " what is the matter ? did the lightning 
 touch you ? " and he sprang to her side. 
 
 Cristina smiled, though the colour had left her face and she 
 was very pale. " No," she said, " not the lightning, but the hail. 
 Look ! " and she held her arm out towards him. A trickle of 
 blood came from a cut on her wrist where a hailstone had struck 
 it, and the blood showed red against her white skin. 
 
 Fabrizio took her hand and tried to stop the bleeding with his 
 handkerchief, but the cut was deep and the blood began to flow 
 more freely, obliging him to turn back the sleeve of her light 
 muslin dress. Suddenly he raised her arm to his lips and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " For an instant I thought you had been struck ! " he exclaimed. 
 " It was horrible — you were surrounded by flame ! " 
 
 "It is nothing, a scratch," Cristina said softly, "but if it had 
 been the lightning, if I had been killed, would you have cared, 
 Fabrizio ? " 
 
 For all answer Fabrizio kissed her arm again, heedless of the 
 blood that stained his lips ; and then, his passion mastering him 
 completely, he kissed her face with rapid, eager kisses. Cristina 
 suffered him to do so for a moment, and then she drew herself away 
 from his embrace. It was as well that she did so, for immedi- 
 ately afterwards the door opened and Taddeo entered the room 
 hastily. 
 
 " The scuri I " he exclaimed, " they are open, signora contessa, 
 and the hail will break everything ! " and rushing to the window 
 he closed them. As a matter of fact, the hail had already
 
 TEMPTATION 109 
 
 done its work, and most of the panes of glass were shattered, 
 though neither Countess VitaH nor Fabrizio was aware of it. 
 
 "We tried to shut them, but could not," said Cristina. "The 
 hail has cut my hands," and she pointed to her wrist around which 
 Fabrizio had bound his handkerchief. 
 
 Taddeo looked at it, and then he looked at Fabrizio. " The 
 signore, also, is wounded," he observed. 
 
 Fabrizio hastily passed the sleeve of his coat across his mouth. 
 "I?" he replied quickly, "no." 
 
 "The signore was helping me," interrupted Countess Vitah, 
 giving him a rapid glance. " I will go to my room," she continued, 
 " and have the cut properly dressed. This hail, Taddeo, it will 
 do much damage." 
 
 " It is a rovina, everything will be burned black as if the devil 
 had touched it ! And the poor signor conte, he will be in despair 
 when he returns this evening — mah 1 " and Taddeo lifted his hands 
 expressively. 
 
 "It is very unfortunate," remarked Countess Vitali, a little 
 absently. " Sicuro, Taddeo, the signor conte will be very much 
 annoyed," and so saying she went quickly from the room, after 
 adding that if Fabrizio needed taffetana to place on his cut, she 
 could supply him with some.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A FTER Cristina had left him, Fabrizio Vitali walked up and 
 -^~^ down the billiard-room wrestling with his thoughts and try- 
 ing to force them into something like coherence. Taddeo had 
 Closed all the outer shutters of the windows, and, save for various 
 expletives muttered to himself, had completed the process in 
 silence and quickly left the room. The semi-obscurity was 
 illumined by frequent flashes of lightning, and the rattle of the 
 hailstones was gradually succeeded by a more muffled sound, as 
 the rain began to descend with almost tropical violence. A 
 heavy, damp air came through the closed persiennes^ bringing 
 with it a sulphurous odour ascending from the steaming soil of 
 the gardens below. Fabrizio, restlessly pacing to and fro, felt 
 almost as if the lightning had struck him some sudden blow. He 
 was vaguely conscious that Taddeo was in the room fumbling 
 with the rusty iron catches of the shutters, and he was scarcely 
 aware of the fact when, having completed his task, the old man 
 retired leaving him alone. A feeling that something had befallen 
 him — something entirely unexpected — seemed to have taken 
 possession of him ; and mingling with this feeling was an impres- 
 sion of evil, almost of personal danger, indefinable and yet per- 
 sistent. Suddenly Fabrizio paused in his restless walk and looked 
 quickly behind him. "Did you laugh, Taddeo? " he asked sharply \ 
 and, receiving no answer, he realized for the first time that Taddeo 
 was no longer in the room. The sound of his own voice seemed 
 to help him to concentrate his thoughts. He could have sworn 
 that someone had laughed, a low, scornful laugh. It was fancy, of 
 course, the storm had excited his nerves. All the same, if he 
 heard that laugh again, he should certainly mention it to his doctor 
 when he returned to Rome ; for it was a particularly disagreeable 
 form for nerves to take, and produced an unpleasant impression 
 upon him that he was at a loss to describe even to himself.
 
 TEMPTATION 111 
 
 When he returned to Rome ? Unquestionably his only course 
 was to return to Rome without delay — to leave Palazzo Vitali 
 before he should have time to be drawn into some further folly. 
 The position was altogether too dangerous — he realised now how 
 dangerous. He had told himself over and over again of late that 
 whoever Cristina's eventual lover might be, that lover must 
 certainly not be himself. He would be bringing dishonour on his 
 own name — and it would be an act of treachery towards Ugo, 
 who had gone out of his way to treat him with a confidence that 
 he might have shown towards a brother. And apart from honour, 
 and loyalty to his own kin and the head of his house, he would 
 be acting against his own interests, destroying future possibilities 
 for the sake of gratifying a passion for a woman in whom he was 
 conscious of finding something repellent even though she attracted 
 him as no woman had ever attracted him before. Confident of 
 possessing that strength of personal will which Schopenhauer had 
 taught him was the predominant factor in the life of every 
 reasonable man, Fabrizio had played with his passion from day 
 to day during the past weeks, secure in his conviction that he 
 could always prevent it from compromising his interests, and still 
 more so from gaining a mastery over him. It was this confidence 
 which now lay, as it were, at his feet, shattered and ruined in a 
 moment's irresistible impulse. His philosophy had not gone far 
 enough to teach him that no such thing exists as an act committed 
 on the impulse of the moment, but that all human acts are but 
 links in the long chain of psychical phenomena which some call 
 character — links which, did we but realise it, we have the privilege 
 of fashioning, to be our support or our undoing for years yet far in 
 front of us. To Fabrizio, the unexpected had happened that 
 afternoon, and he felt as one might feel beneath whose feet the 
 ground had suddenly crumbled. 
 
 Half an hour or so passed, and the storm rumbled away into 
 the distance. The darkened room grew lighter and the air 
 fresher, while the noise of the falling rain had entirely ceased. 
 
 Fabrizio went to the windows, and after throwing open the 
 persiennes, looked out into the gardens. A scene of devastation 
 met his eyes. In spots more or less sheltered from the sub-
 
 112 TEMPTATION 
 
 sequent heavy rain, masses of hailstones lay white upon the 
 ground, some round, some jagged wedges of ice. Boughs of 
 roses and flowering shrubs were scattered about in all directions, 
 some of which looked as though they had been cut off with a 
 knife, while others hung in mutilated shreds to the parent plants. 
 The orange-blossoms, which an hour or two before had filled the 
 air with their scent, were now black and shrivelled ; and on the 
 terrace beneath the house lay bruised corpses of birds caught by 
 the hailstones and beaten to death. Full as his mind was of far 
 other things, Fabrizio found himself wondering what must have 
 been the damage to the vineyards and the crops on the Vitah 
 lands from the storm that had swept down so suddenly from the 
 Sabine mountains and rolled across the campagna to the sea. 
 Already the sky was clearing, and in another half-hour the sun 
 would be shining as brilliantly as before. Within the house 
 all was quiet. Fabrizio left the billiard-room and walked 
 through the other reception rooms on the piano nobile. He 
 wondered if Cristina would appear again. As a rule, they had 
 spent the latter part of the afternoon on the terrace until it was 
 cool enough to drive or walk in some of the sheltered lanes leading 
 from the ridge crowned by the walls and gates of Viteibo to the 
 plain below. What, he asked himself, would be Cristina's 
 attitude towards him after his outbreak of passion. The first 
 feeling of self-reproach and self-contempt for having yielded to 
 what he believed to be a sudden impulse was quickly becoming 
 less intense, while the uncomfortable presentiment of some 
 threatening evil had already faded from his mind. A second 
 phase, the inevitable phase of self-excuse had set in, and was fast 
 smoothing over the rougher edges of self-condemnation. After 
 all, what he had done was a sciocchezza — a trifle which it was 
 absurd to think about seriously. Moreover, Cristina had certainly 
 led him on ; and she could not, therefore, pretend to resent his 
 action as an unwarrantable offence, or as an abuse of his position 
 as a relative and a guest. Yes, she had certainly led him on ! her 
 look when she asked him whether he would really have cared had 
 the lightning struck her — her gesture as she raised her wounded 
 arm so as almost to brush his lips — what man could be expected
 
 TEMPTATION 113 
 
 to keep his head when tempted to lose it by such a woman ? 
 Assuredly he, Fabrizio, was a fool to allow himself to be troubled 
 by scruples when such a piece of boime fortune, as the French 
 would say, was thrown in his way ! What other man of his 
 acquaintance would hesitate to take advantage of the fact that a 
 beautiful woman found his society preferable to that of her 
 husband ? And Ugo ? well, Ugo need never be any the wiser — 
 it would be easy to avoid rousing any suspicion in the mind of 
 one so unsuspicious by nature as Ugo had already shown himself 
 to be. 
 
 Would it not be time enough to return to Rome — afterwards ? 
 The whole affair might be nothing more than an episode — an 
 adventure such as many men could count by the dozen in their 
 lives. It was absurd to regard it as likely to produce disagreeable 
 complications. 
 
 A slight sound — perhaps the creaking of a piece of furniture 
 caused by the sudden dampness in the air after the dry heat of 
 the last few days — caused Fabrizio to look up. In the course of 
 his meditations he had wandered through the long suite of the 
 cardinal's reception rooms and found himself in the gallery 
 immediately beneath Donna Giulia's portrait. A ray of sunlight 
 filtering through the persiennes fell upon the picture, and the 
 heavy eyes seemed to Fabrizio to be following him with a 
 malicious smile. He turned away from it abruptly, almost 
 expecting again to hear the low, scornful laugh he had heard in 
 his dreams, and which had since repeated itself in his fancy. No 
 further sound, however, real or imaginary, broke the silence of 
 the empty rooms ; and Fabrizio, turning his back on the portrait 
 of his ancestress, left the gallery and descended the staircase 
 leading down to the courtyard. The terrace would be in shade 
 now, and he thought he would sit there in case Cristina should 
 reappear. But Countess Vitali did not reappear; neither did 
 Fabrizio see or hear anything of her until just before dinner that 
 evening, when she came into the drawing-room where her 
 husband and Fabrizio were awaiting her a moment or two before 
 that meal was announced.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 n^HE damage done on the Vitali property by the storm had not 
 ■■■ been so serious as might have been expected. By one of 
 those strange caprices of Nature so frequent in summer storms in 
 Italy, the hail had been confined to a track of only two or three 
 hundred metres in width. Within this track vines and fruit trees 
 had been stripped bare, or at the best left burned and shrivelled, 
 while corn and maize had been beaten down in hopeless ruin. 
 The storm had burst so suddenly that the peasants had had no 
 time to use the great funnels from which heavy charges of gun- 
 powder are exploded, the concussions of which break up and dis- 
 pel the gathering masses of purple-black clouds which herald an 
 onslaught of the dreaded scourge. On either side of this narrow 
 track, however, little damage had been done, and, indeed, some 
 good, since the heavy rain had washed away the insects from the 
 crops and refreshed the parched soil. 
 
 On Cristina's entry into the drawing-room Fabrizio cast an en- 
 quiring glance at her. Her manner was the same as usual, and 
 she apologised to him for having left him to his own devices for 
 the whole of the afternoon. Taddeo threw open the doors of the 
 dining-room a moment after her appearance, and taking Fabrizio's 
 arm they went in together, followed by Ugo. The conversation 
 naturally turned on the storm of that afternoon. 
 
 " Imagine, Ugo," said Countess Vitali, " I was closing the 
 persiennes in the billiard-room when a flash of lightning came, 
 and at the same moment I felt a pain in my arm and thought 
 I was struck. Fabrizio thought so too, did you not, 
 Fabrizio ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I did ! " assented Fabrizio. " You were very white, 
 and I saw blood trickling down your arm. It never occurred to 
 me that it was caused by a hailstone cutting you." 
 
 " People who are struck by lightning do not bleed," observed
 
 TEMPTATION 115 
 
 Ugo. " Was it a bad cut, Cristina ? ah, I see you have a bandage 
 round your arm." 
 
 " It was a deep cut, and bled a good deal," replied Cristina. 
 "Fabrizio was wounded also — he was helping me to close the 
 shutters, as the window panes were being broken by the hail. 
 But yours was a mere scratch on your face, was it not ? " she 
 added to Fabrizio. 
 
 " A mere scratch," repeated Fabrizio quickly. 
 
 " It has not even left a mark," continued Cristina, looking 
 at him steadily, *' whereas I shall probably have a scar on 
 my arm for days. Luckily Taddeo came in and closed the 
 remainder of the persiennes^ or I believe every window would 
 have been broken. You really should have the fastenings re- 
 newed, Ugo, they are so old that they are useless. I should 
 think they had never been changed since the cardinal's 
 days." 
 
 Fabrizio, happening to glance at Taddeo, saw that the man was 
 listening attentively. " My cut scarcely bled at all," he said. 
 "The hailstone can only have grazed the skin of my face, for 
 when I looked in the glass I could not see any trace of a 
 cut." 
 
 " But you certainly had some blood on your face," insisted 
 Cristina ; " I saw it, and so did Taddeo, if you remember. Has 
 the storm done much damage, Ugo ? " 
 
 " I believe not," replied Count Vitali. " I only returned half an 
 hour ago, and have not had time to examine things for myself ; 
 but they tell me that the hail was restricted to a very narrow area, 
 so most of the land will have escaped." 
 
 The conversation during dinner that evening was, to say the 
 least of it, intermittent. Ugo Vitali, who had had a very long 
 day, confessed to feeling tired, and Cristina declared that the 
 thunder had given her a headache. 
 
 " It seems that the heat in Rome is terrible — thirty-eight 
 degrees," Ugo observed, during a prolonged pause which no one 
 seemed inclined to break. " I am afraid that means more hail- 
 storms, and I am by no means fully insured against hail," he 
 added.
 
 116 TEMPTATION 
 
 " I certainly do not look forward to returning to Rome, if the 
 thermometer stands at thirty-eight," Fabrizio remarked. 
 
 Ugo looked up from his plate. " Why should you return to 
 Rome ? " he asked. " Nobody but a lunatic would leave the 
 country in order to grill in a town at this time of year. It has 
 been hot enough here, certainly; but at least we have fresh air and 
 cool nights, compared with what you would find in Rome just 
 now. You do not mean to say that you are really thinking of 
 leaving us, Fabrizio ? " 
 
 Fabrizio nodded. " Seriously," he replied, with a smile. " I 
 have paid you a very long visit — and there are also other reasons 
 why I think I should be in Rome." 
 
 He looked at Cristina as he spoke, but she appeared to be 
 engrossed with her dinner. 
 
 " Oh well, if you have other reasons, I have no more to say," 
 returned Ugo ; " but," he added cordially, " if you are only going 
 to Rome because you think you have been here long enough, I do 
 not think your reason at all a good one. What do you say, 
 Cristina?" 
 
 "I should say that Fabrizio is perfectly right," remarked 
 Countess Vitali tranquilly. " He is probably bored with life at 
 Palazzo Vitali, and not unnaturally wishes to find himself in a 
 more amusing place. Indeed, I wonder that he has been able 
 to remain with us so long." 
 
 " At any rate," said Ugo, ignoring his wife's reflection 
 on the dulness of existence at Viterbo, "he has benefited 
 in his health by leading our country life for a few weeks. 
 When you came to us, Fabrizio, you were a very different 
 person." 
 
 " A very different person, indeed," responded Fabrizio; "but, 
 all the same, Ugo, I feel that it is time I returned to Rome. 
 My mother, too, will be wondering why I remain so long 
 away." 
 
 " It seems to me to be absurd to go back to Rome in this 
 heat," his cousin replied. " Why not persuade your mother to 
 join you here, and remain with us at all events until the middle 
 of July ? By that time the season at the bagni will have begun.
 
 TEMPTATION 117 
 
 I think you told me that your mother always went to Montecatini 
 for the bagni. What do you say, Cristina ? would not that be a 
 good arrangement ? After all, everybody will be leaving Rome 
 now, I suppose, and it will be nearly as dull there as you say 
 Fabrizio finds it here." 
 
 "But I do not find it dull at all," interrupted Fabrizio ; "if I 
 had found it so, I should not have remained for more than a 
 month — should I, Cristina?" he added, appealing to Countess 
 Vitali. 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. " Health resorts are said 
 always to be dull," she remarked drily. " No doubt you have 
 accepted the dulness as part of the cure ! But Ugo is quite right. 
 If you think that your signora madre would join you here, we 
 would do our best to make her comfortable." 
 
 " My mother ? " exclaimed Fabrizio quickly, " ah, no ! I 
 mean," he added, suddenly realising the abruptness of his reply, 
 " my mother never visits ; she never leaves home except for the 
 six weeks she spends every year at Montecatini. You are both 
 very kind to think of asking her here, but I am sure that it 
 would be of no use, she would not pay a visit." 
 
 " But a family visit is a different thing," insisted Ugo. " She 
 ought not to feel a stranger in Palazzo Vitali," 
 
 Fabrizio shook his head. "A thousand thanks, Ugo," he 
 said, "but it would be impossible." 
 
 The tone of his voice was such that Ugo did not press the 
 point further. Countess Vitali looked at Fabrizio quickly, with 
 the expression in her eyes that was half cunning and half 
 malicious. The dinner by this time was over, and Taddeo and 
 the footmen proceeded to serve the fruit — strawberries of the 
 small, old-fashioned kind with a delicate, scented flavour ; the 
 strawberries now and again still to be found in some cottage 
 garden in England, as superior to the modern " improvements " 
 as are the cabbage and moss roses more fragrant than all the 
 productions, possessed of high-sounding names and gorgeous 
 colouring, of the modern rose-grower ; and early figs, known as 
 fiori, which are but a somewhat vapid foretaste of the fruit yet to 
 come later in the summer.
 
 118 TEMPTATION 
 
 Count Vitali looked doubtfully at the figs as they were offered 
 to him. 
 
 " The signor conte need not be afraid," remarked Taddeo, 
 noticing his hesitation, " the figs were gathered before the rain 
 came on ; otherwise, there would be danger of fine pains in the 
 stomach, if not of more inconvenient things." 
 
 Presently Cristina rose from the table, and, taking Fabrizio's 
 arm went into the adjoining room where coffee was brought to 
 them. The windows on to the terrace were all opened, and 
 through them came wafts of fragrance on the evening air from 
 the country refreshed by the rain. The moon was rising, and 
 the short Italian twilight was fast yielding to its yellow rays. 
 The nightingales were silent, their season of song being already 
 past ; and now only an occasional hoarse croak, easily mistaken 
 for that of a frog, issued from the brown throats that until lately 
 had made the gardens resound with the melody. The fire-flies, 
 too, had extinguished their lamps of love, though now and then 
 a belated female, still hoping to attract a lover, flitted fitfully 
 through the dark shade cast by the cypress trees. The soft sound 
 of the bell-frog in the low-lying ground beneath the gardens ; the 
 plaintive chiu-chiil of the little grey owls calling to each other 
 among the ilex trees ; the whirring note of a fern-owl, now and 
 again interrupted the ceaseless chirping of the grilli in the 
 grassy banks of the vineyards. A voluptuous repose had settled 
 on all Nature. Even the irrepressible grilli seemed to be singing 
 in their sleep. 
 
 For some time the three sat on the terrace, Ugo and Fabrizio 
 smoking their cigars in silence. There was a certain fascination 
 in watching the moonlight gradually stealing up the dark foliage 
 of the ilex and the slender shafts of the cypresses, changing their 
 blackness to a silvery sheen. 
 
 "And you wish to exchange this light for the electric lights 
 in the Corso, and the sounds we hear for the yelling of the 
 newspaper sellers and the noise of the trams ! " said Ugo 
 Vitali presently. " I say nothing of the exchange in smells," 
 he added laughing. '* It seems to me that you are mad, 
 Fabrizia"
 
 TEMPTATION 119 
 
 " I think I am," Fabrizio replied, looking at Countess Vitali 
 as he spoke. " But your country is a dangerous place ; I feel 
 that it would be wiser for me to run away from it before " — 
 and he paused. 
 
 "Dangerous?" repeated Ugo. " I should say that a city like 
 Rome is much more dangerous ! You have not many tempta- 
 tions here at Palazzo Vitali, unless you wish to take the trouble 
 to look for them in Viterbo, and I do not know that the search 
 would repay you, though to be sure the Viterbesi are a good- 
 looking population. No doubt you have discovered that for 
 yourself. But I am told that the best looking of the women are 
 apt to go to Rome." 
 
 " Perhaps that is why he is anxious to return there," observed 
 Cristina sarcastically. " He wishes to pursue an adventure 
 commenced at Viterbo. We are beginning to understand, 
 Fabrizio, why you have been able to endure life here for so 
 long ! " 
 
 Ugo laughed. " What have you got to say ? " he asked of his 
 cousin. 
 
 "It does not seem to have struck Cristina that, in returning 
 to Rome, I might be anxious to escape from an adventure begun 
 at Viterbo," Fabrizio replied. 
 
 Countess Vitali's eyes flashed angrily. " I did not suppose you 
 to be so faint-hearted ! " she exclaimed, with a laugh belied by the 
 look on her face. 
 
 Ugo yawned and stretched himself in his chair. " Perbacco ! " 
 he said, "but I am tired! It was infernally hot riding to-day. 
 I shall leave you and Cristina to settle the matter for yourselves, 
 while I go in-doors to read the papers. I do not say that you 
 will not find me asleep very shortly," and getting out of his chair 
 he left his wife and Fabrizio together. 
 
 For some minutes neither of them spoke. A faint air stirred 
 the ilex leaves, and the tops of the cypress trees swayed gently. 
 Cristina drew a lace scarf about her neck and shoulders. 
 " Let us walk a httle," she said. " I think it is damp sitting 
 here." 
 
 She rose from her seat, and with Fabrizio by her side began
 
 120 TEMPTATION 
 
 to walk slowly up and down the terrace. As they passed 
 the open windows of the drawing-room, they could see Ugo 
 with his half-smoked cigar between his lips engaged in 
 turning over the newspapers arrived that afternoon from the 
 capital. 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio suddenly, in a low voice, 
 " You do not understand " 
 
 Cristina glanced rapidly towards the house. Then she fixed 
 her eyes full on his face. " I understand — everything," she said 
 briefly. " How should I not ? " 
 
 " But " 
 
 She checked him with a quick gesture. "Wait," she said 
 softly. " Not here. In a few minutes we will go down into the 
 gardens," and she glanced again at the windows of the room in 
 which Ugo was sitting. 
 
 A few minutes passed ; and then, on again looking into the 
 drawing-room, they saw that Ugo had let his newspapers slip on 
 to the floor by his side. He had thrown away his cigar, and was 
 evidently fast asleep. 
 
 " He often sleeps like a log, after dinner," said Cristina, and 
 there was a contemptuous tone in her voice ; " but Taddeo will 
 come in presently with the syrups and will rouse him. Wait — " 
 and she went quickly into the room and stood beside her hus- 
 band's chair. 
 
 " Ugo," she called to him, laying her hand upon his shoulder. 
 "Why do you not go to bed? You are very tired, and it is 
 better to sleep in bed than in that uncomfortable position." 
 
 Count Vitali sat up and blinked his eyes. " Sicuro," he said, " I 
 dropped asleep. Yes, I am very tired, Cristina ; and, as you 
 say, it is better to sleep in one's bed than in a chair. But it is 
 early yet — we will go to bed presently." 
 
 "It is half-past nine," replied Cristina. "You had much 
 better go to bed, otherwise you will not be able to get to sleep 
 again for some time. As for me, I am not at all sleepy. I rested 
 all the afternoon in my room — after the storm. It is so lovely 
 out of doors to-night that I shall remain a little longer on the 
 terrace while Fabrizio smokes."
 
 TEMPTATION 121 
 
 " Bene," answered Ugo, yawning again. " I think I will take 
 your advice, Cristina. Riding under that hot sun for so many 
 hours to-day has made my head feel heavy. Will you tell Taddeo 
 when you and Fabrizio come in that I have gone to my room, and 
 that I do not wish to be called before seven o'clock to-morrow ? 
 Luckily, to-morrow is a festa, and I need not be out early." He 
 drew his wife's face down to his and kissed her as he wished her 
 good night. " Do you think Fabrizio really wants to leave us ? " 
 he said, " or is it that he is afraid of outstaying his welcome ? I 
 have no doubt that you will be able to get the truth out of him. 
 After all, what he said about a country life being an idle life for a 
 man who has no property is very likely true, and I have often 
 thought he must feel that it is all very well for me, the owner of 
 Palazzo Vitali, to be contented here, and that he must sometimes 
 wish he were in ray shoes. After all, he might be in them at any 
 moment, so I like him to feel at home here for as long as he 
 chooses to remain." 
 
 Countess Vitali shrugged her shoulders with an air of indiffer- 
 ence. " If I were you, I should not press your cousin to remain," 
 she said. " By this time he surely knows us well enough to 
 understand that you would always be glad to see him here. As 
 to his wishing to be in your position, he has of course never even 
 alluded to the fact of his being your presumptive heir — any such 
 allusion would have been in decidedly bad taste, would it not ? 
 No, let him return to Rome, if he wants to do so. You might 
 ask him to pay us another visit later on — during the vintage, for 
 instance." 
 
 Ugo nodded. " Of course," he replied, " and now," he con- 
 tinued, " I am really going to bed, Cristina, I can scarcely keep 
 my eyes open. I think the sun must have touched me a 
 little." 
 
 When the door had closed behind him Cristina did not 
 immediately return to the terrace. She could discern through 
 the windows Fabrizio's figure on the terrace without. He 
 had reseated himself in one of the chairs they had lately 
 occupied, and was apparently waiting until she should have 
 spoken to her husband. She stood for a few instants lost
 
 122 TEMPTATION 
 
 in thought, an evil look upon her face. If she could have 
 seen her at that moment, the Duchessa di San Felice would have 
 understood what Don Basilio meant when he said that while in 
 Countess Vitali's presence he had more than once felt as though 
 he were in the vicinity of evil. But Don Basilio had a 
 theory that it was part of the punishment of evil spirits who had 
 existed on earth in the past to exercise their malign influence 
 over human beings actually living, whose natures were willing to 
 respond to such influence. He declared that this theory 
 alone could account for the commission of many premeditated 
 crimes, the object of which was quite insufficient to explain 
 their unreasoning malignity. Vittoria di San Felice would 
 laughingly tell him that his theory made him regard individuals 
 not as wholly responsible beings, but as marionettes answering to 
 the directions of a spiritual wire-puller. 
 
 Countess Vitali stood looking through the window at Fabrizio 
 who was sitting with his back turned towards the house all uncon- 
 scious of her gaze. Every sentence that she had just uttered to 
 her husband had been a lie ; and now she was rapidly considering 
 in her mind how she could best lie to her lover. The process of 
 lying had always had a fascination for her. She had lied as a 
 child ; lied throughout her convent life ; lied in her marriage 
 to Ugo Vitali. In fact lying had been for Cristina Frezzi 
 a divertinietito — an excitement in an otherwise monotonous 
 existence. Perhaps she was scarcely conscious that the play- 
 ing of a part had become a second nature to her ; if, indeed, 
 it had ever been anything else since her earHest childhood. 
 The years spent under the care of the nuns in the convent 
 at Perugia had certainly given her free scope to practise her 
 talent for acting. Her shrewdness had caused her quickly 
 to discover that among the nuns, as among her fellow-pupils, 
 there were those who were honest in their rehgious convictions 
 and those who were merely outwardly conforming, for reasons of 
 their own, to forms and ceremonies. That these forms and 
 ceremonies were anything more than tedious and unavoidable 
 accidents in her daily life at Perugia, Cristina never doubted for a 
 moment. She had no religious proclivities, and not the smallest
 
 TEMPTATION 123 
 
 interest in the sayings and doings of the saints, or even in those of 
 more exalted personages in the celestial hierarchy, except when 
 these sayings and doings cast side-lights on the worldly matters 
 they sought to combat. Perhaps the only genuine portion of her 
 life with the nuns at Perugia was its educational portion. 
 
 The education provided by the convent of the Assumption was, 
 as in all houses of that Order devoting themselves to teach- 
 ing, extremely good within its own Hmits. All the subjects likely 
 to be useful in later life to young girls were taught, and 
 taught well. With nuns recruited from every nation, modern 
 languages, and the literature of those languages — this last being, 
 naturally, subjected to a process of severe expurgation — were im- 
 parted to pupils not, as in British educational institutions, in 
 burlesque form, but thoroughly, and practically. Cristina Frezzi 
 dedicated herself to these studies con amore. Among her fellow- 
 boarders were girls belonging to noble families, being fitted by the 
 nuns for the positions they might subsequently have to occupy in 
 that great world which she hoped some day to enter. Natural 
 shrewdness and ambition combined, both qualities no doubt 
 inherited from her grandfather the Sicilian politician, caused 
 Cristina to realise even at the age of fifteen or so that she 
 must be able to compete with those girls of noble birth who were 
 not being prepared by the nuns merely for spiritual wedlock. 
 She knew herself to be possessed of greater physical attractions 
 than any of her nobly born companions ; and she was perfectly 
 aware of the marketable value of this possession. She was told 
 by other girls that her father was rich — by girls whose own fathers 
 had reason to regard the cavaliere Frezzi as an individual blessed 
 with an inexhaustible supply of ready money to advance in 
 exchange for a signature. But she was shrewd enough to realise 
 that the lack of noble blood in her veins was a handicap to 
 her ambitions that could only be adjusted by education. Indeed, 
 a Bavarian sister, herself of noble birth, with whom she studied 
 German, had told her as much. The Baroness von Rosenheim — 
 in religion Sister Teresa — had very quickly discovered that 
 Cristina was anything but spiritually inclined. As a matter 
 of fact, Sister Teresa's own aspirations in that direction were not of
 
 124 TEMPTATION 
 
 a very high order. She had entered religion for family reasons 
 not unconnected with material affections. There is no greater 
 mistake, however, than to suppose that the Church, which is 
 always and before all things the Church militant, concerns itself 
 exclusively with the things appertaining to the next world ; 
 and the religious orders devoted to education work upon a 
 system embracing all contingencies of character and tempera- 
 ment among the youth of both sexes confided to their care. 
 If a girl or a boy displays distinct signs of a religious temperament, 
 she or he will in all probability be useful to the Church in 
 the Church ; if, on the other hand, the worldly nature is 
 seen to be predominant, the girl or the boy must if possible be so 
 moulded as to be useful to the Church in the world. The 
 strength of Catholicism, in common with that of all the older 
 creeds from which it is evolved, has ever lain in its power of 
 reconciling the spiritual with the material aspirations of human 
 nature — a psychological combination the advisability of which 
 Protestantism has been apt to overlook. 
 
 Sister Teresa had more than suspected that Cristina was 
 little else than a pagan at heart, but it was part of her duty to 
 insist upon the truths of German grammar, and not upon those 
 of the Catholic Church. These last lay within the province of 
 another department. Cristina's character had, all unknown to 
 herself, been the subject of much discussion in that inner sanctum 
 where, in the presence of the Mother Superior, every detail con- 
 cerning the pensionnaires was minutely examined. It had soon 
 become perfectly clear to the nuns where Cristina's vocation 
 lay, and directions to those sisters entrusted with her education 
 were given accordingly. Through Sister Teresa, to whom 
 Cristina gradually confided as much of herself as she thought 
 fit, the girl's natural inclinations became known to the authorities. 
 She gave every promise of being a beautiful woman in the future ; 
 and she would be rich. But neither her beauty nor her wealth could 
 be of any direct benefit to a spiritual bridegroom. This being 
 the case, it was distinctly better to encourage her in her ambition 
 to supplement her beauty and prospective riches by an education 
 which should fit her to assume any position in the world that
 
 TEMPTATION 125 
 
 these might one day help her to obtain. The influence of the 
 convent education would probably assert itself in after life ; and 
 the bread flung upon the waters in some way or another con- 
 tribute in the future to the sustenance of the Church. Of all 
 the community in the convent at Perugia, Sister Teresa was 
 probably the only one who suspected that Cristina was utterly 
 indifferent to the religion which all practised with greater or less 
 devotion. No advantage, as the girl very well knew, was to be 
 gained by displaying any overt signs of this indiff'erence which 
 would at times develop into a contempt no less bitter because it 
 had to be concealed. She was happier at the convent than she 
 would have been at home with some old governess who would 
 perforce have to look after her during her father's perpetual 
 absences. At the convent, moreover, she had the constant 
 society of other girls who were her superiors in rank and birth. 
 It had needed all the cavaliere Frezzi's influence with certain of 
 his clerical clients, and some of his money, to prevail upon the 
 Mother Superior to admit the daughter of a mercante di campagna, 
 however wealthy, amongst the pupils in her convent ; for the 
 houses of the Assumption vied with those of the Sacre Coeur in 
 their exclusiveness. 
 
 And so it happened that, although it was soon confessed with 
 sighs and shaking of heads that Cristina Frezzi had no vocation 
 for the religious life, the nuns had no suspicion that they were 
 harbouring a pagan in their midst. Sister Teresa kept her own 
 counsel on the matter ; her conscience being of sufficient elasticity 
 to allow of her not communicating to her superiors all she had 
 succeeded in learning of the girl's character. 
 
 Cristina interested her ; and she looked forward to following 
 her pupil's career when, her education being completed, she 
 should begin her life in the world. Even Sister Teresa, however, 
 was far from realising how very little she knew of Cristina. 
 The Bavarian lady of long descent was no match for the cunning 
 and the love of falsehood for falsehood's sake that Cristina 
 Frezzi perhaps inherited from some unusally cattivo soggetto 
 among her Norcian peasant ancestry. As to Cristina's confessor, 
 the poor man never heard the truth from her lips at any time \
 
 126 TEMPTATION 
 
 and as, even had he heard it, his own lips would have been 
 sealed, there was nobody to suspect that Cristina, even though 
 she had not "the vocation," was less of a believing Catholic 
 than countless other young girls who were not conspicuous 
 for their devotion to matters connected with the next world.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 T^WO or three minutes after her husband had left the drawing- 
 -■■ room Countess VitaH rang the bell. Whatever the thoughts 
 might have been that caused her face to wear for a few moments 
 an almost sinister expression, the look had passed when the 
 young footman appeared at the door to answer the summons. 
 
 *' Where is Taddeo ? " Cristina asked of him. The boy 
 spread out his hands with an apologetic gesture. Taddeo had 
 gone in citta — to the farmacia, he explained. Taddeo's wife had 
 the fever, and he had gone to get her some saliceto. He had 
 told him, Cesare, to answer the bell if it rang. Did the signora 
 contessa require anything. 
 
 *' You can bring in the syrups and leave them here," said 
 Cristina, "and tell Taddeo that we shall not want anything 
 more this evening, I am sorry to hear his wife has the fever. 
 Tell him, too, that the signor conte has gone to his room, and 
 that he is not to be called until seven o'clock to-morrow morning." 
 
 " And the windows ? " asked the lad, with a glance at the open 
 iersiennes. 
 
 *' We, Count Fabrizio and I, will shut them," replied Countess 
 Vitali, "and we will also put out the lamps. We are going to 
 remain on the terrace for a little longer. You can bring the 
 syrups now." 
 
 Cesare was about to leave the room when Cristina stopped 
 
 him. " You quite understand, Cesare," she added. " When 
 
 Taddeo returns, you will tell him that nothing more will be wanted 
 
 to-night, and that Count Fabrizio and I will see that the windows 
 
 are properly closed and the lamps put out before we retire. 
 
 When you have brought the syrups, and Taddeo has returned, 
 
 you can go to bed. Taddeo will be glad to be with his wife. The 
 
 fever is not high, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Signora contessa, no ! an alterazione only — a sciocchezza." 
 
 127
 
 128 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina nodded. "That is well," she replied. "Do not 
 forget to tell Taddeo that he need not come upstairs again. 
 " Buona notte, Cesare," she added pleasantly to the lad, and 
 picking up her lace scarf she passed out on to the terrace. 
 Fabrizio, hearing her footsteps behind him, rose from his chair 
 and advanced to meet her. 
 
 "What have you done with Ugo ? " he asked of her. 
 
 " Ugo has gone to bed," she replied. " I suggested to him 
 that a bed was a more comfortable place to sleep in than a chair, 
 and he agreed." 
 
 " And you — are you going to follow his example ? " 
 
 Cristina looked at him. " Is that a hint that you wish to get 
 rid of your hostess ? " she inquired, with a smile. She stood in 
 front of him, the moonlight falling upon the white folds of her 
 dress, and glinting upon the thick coils of her hair. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed nervously. " Of course not ! " he said 
 hesitatingly, but " 
 
 " It is early," proceeded Cristina tranquilly, " and I do not 
 feel the least inclined to go to my room." She drew one of the 
 wicker arm-chairs to her as she spoke, and turning it so that she 
 could see into the windows of the drawing-room, sat down in it. 
 
 "So," she continued, a little abruptly, "you really mean to 
 leave us and return to Rome." 
 
 " What else can I do — now ? " 
 
 "I am sorry," said Cristina in a low voice, as if to herself. 
 "But, after all, from your point of view, from a man's point of 
 view, no doubt you are right. A man can go away, and forget. 
 A woman must remain." 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Do you not see ? can you 
 not understand ? it would be a tradimento. Ugo " 
 
 Countess Vitali interrupted him with a warning gesture. 
 Within the drawing-room Cesare was moving to and fro, arranging 
 a tray on which were syrups of various kinds of fruits, ice, and 
 fresh spring water. She called him out on to the terrace. " You 
 can close all the windows but the centre one," she said to him. 
 " Has Taddeo returned?" she added. 
 
 "Signora contessa, si — and I have given him the messages.
 
 TEMPTATION 129 
 
 He has gone to give the saliceto to his wife, and has told me to 
 close everything downstairs and to go to bed. Has the signora 
 contessa any further orders ? " 
 
 "No, that is all." 
 
 " Felice notte, signora contessa ! " In a minute or two came 
 the sound of closing shutters, and the lamps in the drawing- 
 room cast a streak of yellow light across the white, moonlit 
 terrace. 
 
 "If I go away," said Fabrizio presently, when the footman 
 had left the drawing-room, " it is not to forget. If I were any 
 other man, and not myself, if you were not Ugo's wife, I should 
 not want to go away before — before it was too late ! " 
 
 " And if it is already too late ? " 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her. " Already too late ? " he repeated. 
 
 Cristina Vitali laughed — a bitter laugh. 
 
 "Not quite, you think," she said quickly. " But that, again, 
 is from your point of view — from a man's. It is never too late, 
 from the man's point of view, until he has got all he wants from 
 a woman ; and even then — " and she completed her sentence by 
 a shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 " No ! " Fabrizio exclaimed impetuously. " You have no right 
 to put that construction on my motives, Cristina, no right at all. 
 Why is it that you cannot, or that you will not understand? 
 Ugo has treated me well, and — and — oh, for the love of God do 
 not look at me like that, one is not a stone, you know ! Did 
 you not tell me yourself the other day that of course I could not 
 remain here indefinitely? Why will you not let me go away 
 now, while there is yet time ? " 
 
 "You are afraid of compromising yourself with Ugo," Cristina 
 said in a low voice, " but you do not think of me ! Why do you 
 not tell me the truth?" 
 
 " I told you the truth this afternoon," returned Fabrizio ; " or, 
 if I did not use words, it was the same thing." 
 
 "And I," said Cristina, looking at him always, and her brown 
 
 eyes seemed to dilate and gleam golden in the moonlight — " I 
 
 did not use words, either. Come," she added, as Fabrizio with 
 
 a sudden movement rose to his feet and drew nearer to her, "let 
 
 I
 
 130 TEMPTATION 
 
 us walk a little. We are too close to the house to talk freely. 
 Some servant might be listening from behind the persiennes" 
 She moved away as she spoke and walked slowly down the 
 terrace towards the central flight of steps leading down to the 
 gardens beneath. Leaning against one of the grey stone vases 
 flanking the balustrade of the steps, she glanced upwards at the 
 house. With the exception of the open window of the drawing- 
 room and the faint light issuing from it, not a sign of life was to 
 be seen in Palazzo Vitali. The green casements on every storey 
 were closed, and the lofty facade rose bare and cold in the moon- 
 light. Not a sound was to be heard, except the chirping of the 
 grilli, the gentle splashing of a fountain, and now and again 
 the plaintive chiu-chiii of the owls. Cristina turned, and followed 
 by Fabrizio descended the steps. Turning down a broad path 
 bordered on each side by hedges of box they entered the ilex 
 avenue skirting one side of the gardens. The moonbeams 
 straying through the heavy foliage cast little chequered patterns 
 of light and shadow on the path beneath, falling here and there 
 on the seamed trunks of the trees that had seen medieval pope 
 and cardinals pacing beneath them, and Donna Giulia Vitali in 
 converse with the lover who was destined to be her victim. 
 
 " Why do you accuse me of fearing to compromise myself with 
 Ugo ? " Fabrizio said, pausing in an open glade in the avenue, in 
 the centre of which was a statue of Ganymede, whose hand was 
 reposing on the back of a headless eagle. 
 
 " It is natural that you should fear to offend him," answered 
 Cristina coldly "Are you not his heir ? " 
 
 Fabrizio muttered an impatient exclamation. "His heir-at- 
 law — yes," he said, " but that means very little. Ugo might sell 
 his property if he chose. Besides, as I have told you before, he 
 and I are too nearly of the same age to make it worth while to 
 consider such vague contingencies." 
 
 Countess Vitali smiled. " They are less vague than you think, 
 Fabrizio. Ugo has been talking to me lately about his affairs. 
 Except myporzlone vedovile, everything, as things stand at present, 
 would go to you should he die before you." 
 
 Notwithstanding his efforts to appear indifferent, Fabrizio Vitali
 
 TEMPTATION 131 
 
 could not repress a slight start, " Even so," he said, after a 
 slight pause, during which Cristina watched him with the same 
 smile on her lips, " the contingency remains as vague as before. 
 There is no reason why I should outlive Ugo, and I do not wish 
 to think about it," he added impatiently. 
 
 "No," observed Cristina thoughtfully, "as you say, there is 
 no reason why you should outlive Ugo. But one never knows. 
 Life is an uncertain thing, non h vero ? No, decidedly, one never 
 knows." 
 
 "Why did you marry him? why, Cristina?" asked Fabrizio 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Ma/" exclaimed Countess Vitali, with a short sigh. It is 
 perhaps lucky for you that I did, aniico mio. Had he married a 
 woman who had brought him children, where would you be? 
 Besides, when I married I did not know anything of life ; worse 
 than that, I did not know myself. How can you expect a girl 
 just out of a convent to know what Hfe may contain ? " 
 
 This contradiction to assurances he had heard before from 
 Cristina's lips as to the occupants of convents being far from 
 ignorant of what passed in the world outside their walls, escaped 
 Fabrizio's notice. 
 
 "As for why I married Ugo, you have asked me that question 
 before, and I have answered it," proceeded Cristina. " It was a 
 mistake, but I never realised until lately how great a mistake." 
 
 " Until lately ? " 
 
 "Until very lately. This afternoon, perhaps !" 
 
 Fabrizio felt as if the blood were mounting to his head and 
 surging through his brain. He caught her hands and drew her 
 to him. 
 
 " Cristina ! " he exclaimed, " do you mean that ? " 
 
 She let her hands remain in his for a moment and then drew 
 them gently away. 
 
 "Ah, no?" she whispered. "It is useless, Fabrizio, you can 
 never take back that kiss, never ! All the same, you will leave 
 me, because I am your cousin's wife and not another woman 
 whom you could have loved without endangering your own 
 interests."
 
 132 TEMPTATION 
 
 *' Perdio," swore Fabrizio, "you are unjust! Do you think I 
 would not sacrifice my interests to have your love? You are 
 ujnjust, Cristina, and you are cruel as well." 
 
 A silence fell between them. From the open country beyond 
 the gardens came the faint whirring of the goatsuckers hawking 
 for moths. A great bat swooped down from the higher branches 
 of the ilex trees and almost touched them with its wings as it 
 circled round them, Fabrizio could see its eyes, and its lips 
 drawn back in an evil grin; and something in the creature, he 
 knew not what, recalled Donna Giulia's face to his mind, as that 
 face had gazed at him from the canvas in the gallery a few hours 
 before. The impression passed in a moment, however. Cristina 
 stood before him, her gaze fixed upon him, and he had no thought 
 then but for her beauty. Had she not confessed that she loved 
 him, and did he not know now that she was ready to give heiself 
 to him ? 
 
 Cristina's voice, low and rapid, broke the silence. " You are 
 right to think of your interests," she said, "and I think of them 
 also. Some day, perhaps, I will show you that they have been 
 safe in my hands. But," she added, with a ring of contempt in 
 her tones, " you are afraid to trust me. All the same, you were 
 not afraid this afternoon ! " 
 
 " And I am not afraid now ! " burst out Fabrizio. He seized 
 her hands again, and drawing her to him, kissed her with hot, 
 passionate kisses. " I am not afraid any longer," he continued, 
 "you have conquered, Cristina, and we belong to one another 
 from this night. Why should I throw away what the Gods have 
 sent into my life ? are there not hundreds and thousands of people 
 in the same condition as ourselves — who love each other but may 
 not confess their love before the world ? " 
 
 He was unconscious that his words were addressed as much to 
 himself as to her. His passion had mastered him, and his 
 scruples of honour, nay even his self-interest, were thrown to the 
 winds. The philosophers were forgotten, and with them the 
 exercise of the power of Will that was to dominate action and 
 teach men to be reliant only on themselves. 
 
 Into Countess Vitali's eyes as she listened to his words
 
 TEMPTATION 133 
 
 came a fleeting expression of a triumph. But her eyes had 
 lightened with another expression as well, and one that was 
 not wholly assumed. Ugo Vitali had seen it, during the first 
 months of his marriage, and had mistaken it for love. And 
 yet on this occasion Cristina's eyes had not lied. In yield- 
 ing herself to Fabrizio's kisses she was conscious that she was 
 moved by something more than passion, something that had 
 never before entered into her life. That afternoon, when she had 
 shut herself into her room after leaving Fabrizio, she had 
 experienced a surprise that was almost bewilderment. Was it 
 possible, she asked herself, that she loved Fabrizio — not with that 
 love she had felt for her husband, which had scarcely survived its 
 material satisfaction before it became a weariness, but with a love 
 that was not all passion ? The thought was absurd. As a man, 
 Fabrizio was inferior to his cousin in everything, save perhaps 
 in his intellect. She knew his weaknesses, realised his egoism 
 that formed so prominent a contrast with Ugo's frank generosity 
 of character. She even despised him for his vacillation, for the 
 weak way in which he allowed his good impulses to hinder, but 
 only to hinder, his bad ones, causing him to search for excuses to 
 himself even at the moment of yielding to his desires. But in 
 spite of his inferiority to Ugo in character, in bodily strength and 
 manly bearing and good looks — perhaps even on account of the 
 contrast in all points between him and her husband, Cristina had 
 of late become conscious that Fabrizio had aroused sympathies 
 in her which Ugo had entirely failed to call forth. From the first 
 she had played with him, as a cat may play with a mouse, secure 
 in the conviction that sooner or later she could give him the 
 coup de patte which would stun all other feelings in him. It was 
 true that she had no respect for him, and even a little contempt ; 
 but many women have given their love where they could not give 
 their respect, their ability to do so forming not the least of the 
 complexities and contradictions of the female temperament. 
 
 For a moment or two Cristina remained passive in Fabrizio's 
 embrace. Then she released herself from it, looking appre- 
 hensively into the deep shadows cast by the ilex trees all around 
 the spot on which they were standing.
 
 134 TEMPTATION 
 
 " But of course I " she murmured. " Is it so rare a position — 
 yours and mine ? I have heard that, in Rome, it is the rule 
 rather than the exception, such love as ours." 
 
 " Ah," returned Fabrizio quickly, " in Rome it would be easy 
 enough ! but here — " and he paused. 
 
 Cristina frowned. " We must think," she said briefly. 
 
 "You must make Ugo bring you to Rome," Fabrizio continued. 
 "But the winter is a long way off, and in the meantime " 
 
 " In the meantime," interrupted Cristina, " we must be careful, 
 Fabrizio, we must think, as I said just now. Of course you 
 must return to Rome — this week or next week, what does it 
 matter? You will come back to Palazzo Vitali later on. Ugo 
 means to ask you to return here for the vintage, when you 
 have been to the bagni. You must trust everything to me, 
 and you will see that we shall be happy, amor mio. Perhaps I 
 shall be able to persuade Ugo to pass a season in Rome — who 
 knows ? " 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her eagerly, " But you will not send me 
 away from you without giving me " 
 
 Cristina checked him with a sudden gesture. " Pazienza ! " 
 she whispered. " We must have patience, Fabrizio mio, and 
 prudence. Before you go, you shall be happy. I swear it." 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Cristina ! " 
 
 " Hush ! You must be patient." She spoke as though 
 soothing a child, " Andiamo, Fabrizio," she continued quickly, 
 " andiamoci ! we have been here long enough. The clocks are 
 striking ten." 
 
 She turned as she spoke, and together they retraced their steps 
 down the avenue. The moon had passed behind the house, the 
 front of which was now in shadow ; only the light from the 
 drawing-room streamed across the terrace. Ascending the steps 
 in silence they passed into the room, and Cristina quietly closed 
 and bolted ihe persiennes and the window. Not a sound was to 
 be heard within the house. Countess Vitali lighted a candle, and 
 pouring a little syrup of oranges into a glass, added some water, 
 and drank it. 
 
 Fabrizio gazed at her earnestly, questioningly. " Another
 
 TEMPTATION 135 
 
 quarter of an hour," he pleaded. " The house is asleep, we shall 
 be undisturbed here." 
 
 Cristina shook her head. " Pazienza," she repeated, with a 
 smile. " For this evening, I have given you enough. Buona 
 notte, Fabrizio, sleep well ! and before you leave the room, 
 remember to put out the lamps, and to take a candle with you, or 
 you will lose your way to your room. I hope Donna Giulia will 
 not appear to you as you go through the gallery ! " and passing 
 him quickly she disappeared through the double doors leading to 
 the apartments she and Ugo occupied. 
 
 Left to himself, Fabrizio poured himself out a glass of iced 
 water and drank it hastily. The coldness of it refreshed his 
 throat which was dry and parched, and seemed to calm the blood 
 running riot through his veins. Almost mechanically he ex- 
 tinguished the old-fashioned moderator lamps, and taking up the 
 candle Cristina had already lighted for him, he left the drawing- 
 room by the doors opposite to those through which she had just 
 vanished. He walked through the suite of deserted rooms on 
 the piano nobile and on reaching the gallery, unconsciously 
 quickened his steps. At the end of the long room, by the door 
 through which he had to pass to gain the ante-chamber out of 
 which his own apartment opened, hung the portrait of Donna 
 Giulia Vitali, but to-night Fabrizio was determined that he would 
 not allow his glance to fall on it. Turning his head in the 
 opposite direction he reached the door and closed it behind him, 
 not without a sense of reHef that he had not again encountered 
 the eyes that had seemed that afternoon to follow him with their 
 mocking gaze, nor heard the laugh that since his dream on the 
 night of his arrival at Palazzo Vitali had haunted his imagination. 
 
 On gaining his own room he set his candle down on a table 
 near the bed and flung himself into an arm-chair, trying, as 
 Cristina had told him to do, to think. But connected thought 
 was impossible, for chaos was reigning in his brain, and a mad 
 desire. Patience? till to-morrow, the day after, for how long. 
 It could not be for long. Ugo was away nearly every day, for 
 hours, and Ugo would never know. Besides, Cristina did not 
 know — did not realise what she was doing when she married Ugo,
 
 136 TEMPTATION 
 
 she had not known what love meant. He was sorry for Ugo, but, 
 after all, in love and in war people must take their chance ; and 
 if fortune had chosen to favour him and not Ugo, it was no fault 
 of his. Besides, if Cristina's suspicions were true, and Ugo 
 were in love with the San Felice, Ugo could console himself, — 
 probably had consoled himself before now. 
 
 At length, wearied with trying to collect his thoughts, Fabrizio 
 rose, and lighting the candles on the dressing-table began to take 
 off his clothes preparatory to going to bed, unlikely though it was 
 that sleep would come to him for at any rate some hours. He 
 selected a book — not a philosophic work, but a novel from among 
 some which Cristina had lent him — and after blowing out the 
 other lights on the dressing-table carried it, together with a candle, 
 to the bedside. Suddenly he started back with an exclamation 
 of horrified dismay, while book and candle fell together on the floor 
 plunging the room into what seemed for the moment to be absolute 
 darkness. It was only gradually that the moonlight filtering through 
 the shutters showed Fabrizio that his eyes had not deceived him, 
 and that here was no trick of disordered nerves. On the bed, 
 as he had found it the first night he had passed in Pahzzo Vitali, 
 was the crucifix, with the ivory Christ concealed beneath the ebony 
 cross which stood out, an omen of death, black and forbidding 
 against the white linen of the pillow beneath it.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 T T was late the following morning when Fabrizio Vitali left his 
 ■*- room. After the first feelings of dismay that so unlucky a 
 portent should have repeated itself had subsided, he began to 
 reason with his superstitious fears. A hasty examination of the 
 spot where the crucifix had hung showed that the nail had 
 evidently again given way. That the crucifix should have fallen 
 face downwards was also natural, since the ivory figure of the 
 Christ was of course heavier than the cross itself. Nevertheless, 
 as he had observed to Cristina on the former occasion, the sight 
 of the object lying where it did was unpleasantly suggestive of 
 things upon which he, at all events, did not care to allow his 
 mind to dwell. Had this repetition of so sinister a portent 
 occurred at any other moment, it would almost certainly have 
 created a much deeper impression on Fabrizio than was actually 
 the case. His mind, however, was occupied with thoughts far 
 more material, and the turmoil of passion banished all other 
 feelings, leaving him considerably more indifferent to the 
 presence of the cross upon the pillows of his bed than he had 
 been on the first night of his visit to Palazzo Vitali. 
 
 He was, indeed, in the mental condition of one who, having 
 decided to stifle scruples of conscience, becomes reckless from 
 the dread of any longer hearing their voice. The very feeling 
 that Cristina was still something of a mystery to him — that while 
 she roused in him all his desires there was yet something unknown 
 and intangible about her which repelled even when it attracted him, 
 added to his passion. He longed to realise this unknown element 
 in the woman who had that evening promised to give herself to 
 him — as a traveller presses forward to explore some fresh tract of 
 country temporarily hidden from his view by the windings of the 
 road he treads. 
 
 Sleep had come to him at last with the early hours of the
 
 188 TEMPTATION 
 
 morning; and his sleep, very unlike that into which he had 
 fallen on the night when he had first found the crucifix on his 
 pillows, was untroubled and dreamless. The entrance of Taddeo 
 with hot water awakened him at an hour when he would gladly 
 have slept on ; and the hot water was less than tepid when he 
 finally roused himself. 
 
 An exclamation of dismay from the old servant on seeing the 
 crucifix lying on the table where Fabrizio had placed it caused 
 him to raise himself in bed. Taddeo's countenance expressed 
 the liveliest concern and, indeed, horror. 
 
 " Santissimo Dio ! " the man ejaculated, at the same time 
 crossing himself, " did the signore find the cross again upon his 
 bed ? It is incredible ! and I who drove the nail in firmly with 
 my own hands ! mah ! " and he shook his head anxiously. 
 
 Fabrizio smiled at his consternation. He was not going to 
 allow his own superstitions to be kindled afresh. " Of course the 
 crucifix has fallen again," he said carelessly. " If you look at the 
 wall, Taddeo, you will see that the nail has broken away as it did 
 before. The crucifix is heavy, and the plaster of the wall will not 
 support its weight." 
 
 Taddeo looked at him earnestly. " Signor Fabrizio," he said 
 solemnly, "the wall has borne that Christ for forty years to my 
 knowledge, and I believe it has hung there ever since Donna 
 Giulia's days — may her soul rest in peace ! " and he crossed 
 himself again. 
 
 " In that case, it is all the more natural that the crucifix should 
 fall now," said Fabrizio. " The nail was probably corroded by 
 age," he added. 
 
 " How corroded by age ? " returned Taddeo indignantly. " It 
 was a new nail. I bought it myself at the tinsmith's. It is a 
 brutto augurio. To happen once — well, it might be an accident, 
 perhaps ; but to fall twice, after so many years — " and he shook 
 his head again despondently. 
 
 " Sciocchezze ! " exclaimed Fabrizio irritably. " You can leave 
 the hot water, Taddeo, and close the shutters a little, I am sleepy 
 still, and it is early. You can bring me the coffee when I 
 ring."
 
 TEMPTATION 139 
 
 Taddeo obeyed, muttering to himself the while. He lingered 
 about the room, and more than once took the crucifix up and 
 examined it attentively. 
 
 " Signor Fabrizio," he said hesitatingly, as he opened the 
 door. 
 
 " Well ? " Fabrizio asked drowsily. 
 
 " The signore will pardon an old man, but if he has 
 any enterprise on hand, of money, love, che ne so io? 
 — he will do well to take the warning and abandon it, for 
 it will end ill." 
 
 Fabrizio turned impatiently. " Storie ! " he exclaimed con- 
 temptuously. " You can see for yourself, Taddeo, what caused 
 the crucifix to give way." 
 
 "Scusi — but it is the signore who will see for himself that the 
 nail is a new nail, and that the plaster has been torn away by 
 force from the wall," and returning to the bedside, Taddeo 
 held the nail out for Fabrizio's inspection. "It was hang- 
 ing to the ring of the cross," he added, "and as the signore 
 may see, it is all bent, as though it had been torn from the 
 wall." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at it, and saw that the man was evidently not 
 mistaken. 
 
 " And who can have torn it from the wall ? " he asked, half of 
 himself. 
 
 Taddeo looked at him quickly, and then he crossed himself. 
 '• Chi sa ? " he replied, in a low voice. " It is Donna Giulia's 
 room — I myself have heard her walking through these apart- 
 ments " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " Basta ! " he said scornfully. " As to 
 Donna Giulia — she has been dust for two hundred years and 
 more. You are an imbecile, Taddeo, and I want to sleep 
 again." 
 
 Taddeo shrugged his shoulders. " Pud essere^^ he observed 
 tranquilly ; " but, if the signore is wise, he will not proceed in 
 any adventure in which he may be engaged. Finirh male" and 
 he closed the door behind him, repeating the words '^finirh 
 male '' as he did so.
 
 140 TEMPTATION 
 
 The desire to sleep left Fabrizio. He remained thinking 
 over Taddeo's words. It was certainly strange that the crucifix 
 should have fallen a second time, and stranger still that, as 
 Taddeo had pointed out, it seemed almost to have been 
 wrenched from the wall by some physical force. As to Donna 
 Giulia having anything to do with the matter, that was obviously 
 absurd — a piece of childish superstition, the result, no doubt, of 
 tales told among the servants concerning her pretended appear- 
 ances in the apartments she had once occupied. Nevertheless, 
 the man's evident fear of some imminent misfortune being 
 foreshadowed by the occurrence revived Fabrizio's own mis- 
 givings. Nor did Taddeo's warning tend to diminish his uneasi- 
 ness. Was it possible, he wondered, that the old servant had 
 some suspicion as to his feelings towards Cristina? That 
 Taddeo was devoted to Ugo, with that unswerving devotion to 
 their employers often to be found among dependents in Italy, 
 Fabrizio was well aware. He knew, too, that Taddeo was by no 
 means equally devoted to Countess Vitali. On one occasion, 
 Ugo, half amused and half annoyed, had told him that he 
 believed Taddeo to be jealous of Cristina, with the jealousy of 
 an old retainer of a fresh influence brought into the household. 
 Count Vitali had appeared anxious that his wife should not 
 notice that Taddeo's manner towards her was of an unvarying 
 formality, respectful but dry, which concealed a secret dislike 
 and was altogether very different from the semi-familiarity, 
 also invariably respectful — but at the same time the evident 
 outcome of affection and esteem — of his attitude towards Ugo 
 himself. 
 
 On further consideration, however, Fabrizio dismissed as 
 improbable the idea that Taddeo's warning had been uttered 
 with any arriere pensee in his mind. Taddeo would no doubt 
 himself suspend any business he might have in hand had he 
 happened to find a cross lying on his bed. Such an offering to 
 his superstition would be perfectly natural on the part of an old 
 man brought up among the traditions of his class, and a devout 
 believer in all things in which he, Fabrizio, had long ceased to 
 believe. Moreover, Taddeo had named money enterprises — and
 
 TEMPTATION 141 
 
 not those of love only, as necessary to be abandoned in defer- 
 ence to the evil omen — doubtless under the impression that 
 a young man was tolerably sure to be engaged in the pursuit 
 either of the former or of the latter commodity, if not of both 
 simultaneously. 
 
 When he eventually left his room he found Countess Vitali 
 already seated in her usual corner of the terrace. On learning 
 from him that he had again found the crucifix lying on his bed, 
 Cristina displayed a sudden agitation which caused him no little 
 surprise, and, it must be confessed, no little satisfaction. Her 
 demeanour was very different from the mocking attitude she 
 had adopted on the former occasion. She seemed, indeed, to 
 share Taddeo's view that this second fall of the crucifix could 
 not be regarded as a mere coincidence, but rather as a warning 
 of some impending calamity. 
 
 It was Fabrizio now who, in his efforts at once to re- 
 assure himself and her, mocked at the idea of the incident 
 being due to any but purely natural causes, and at the folly 
 of regarding it as having any special significance, sinister or 
 otherwise. 
 
 But Cristina was not easily reassured. A cross was a 
 cross; and, except in its normal surroundings, a sign of mis- 
 fortune if not of worse things. Fabrizio reminded her that she 
 had scoffed at him only a few weeks before for having had the 
 same fears. " If it had occurred only once," he insisted, " we 
 might look upon it as a bad omen ; but the same thing liaving 
 happened a second time is a proof that the fall of the crucifix is 
 simply due to natural causes. It is absurd to be afraid, Cristina, 
 and I cannot think what has made you so." 
 
 "You have made me so," she replied briefly. 
 
 "I?" returned Fabrizio. "But have I not been telling you 
 that it is ridiculous to be so superstitious ? " 
 
 Christina looked at him. " You do not understand," she said 
 in a low voice. " I am not afraid of misfortune for myself—but 
 for us. You laugh at me because you recollect that a few weeks 
 ago I looked at the matter very differently. That is quite true. 
 But since then — " and she paused.
 
 142 TEMPTATION 
 
 " What has happened since then to change your ideas ? " asked 
 Fabrizio, smiling. 
 
 " Everything. You have come into my life — and now I am 
 afraid — afraid of anything that seems to threaten us." 
 
 Her words sent a thrill of pleasure through Fabrizio, for could 
 he need a fuller admission that she reciprocated his love for 
 her? 
 
 " You are not like Taddeo, then," he said presently, with a 
 smile, " you would not advise me to abandon any enterprise in 
 love on account of the omen." 
 
 Cristina started. "Did Taddeo say that?" she exclaimed, 
 frowning. 
 
 Fabrizio nodded. " For a moment," he replied, " I wondered 
 whether the old man had any suspicions — but I am convinced he 
 spoke in good faith — for he coupled money enterprises with 
 those of love as threatened with ill-luck. A proposito, Cristina," 
 he added, " do you know the history of that crucifix ? Has it 
 hung, as Taddeo evidently believes, in the same position ever 
 since Donna Giulia's days ? " 
 
 " That I cannot tell you — but it is possible. Very little has 
 been changed in Palazzo Vitali during the last two hundred 
 years. The crucifix is undoubtedly a very old one, and it has 
 a peculiarity which you will probably not have noticed. Ugo 
 once pointed it out to me." 
 
 " It seems to be like any other crucifix," observed Fabrizio, 
 "a painful representation of a barbarous punishment. But 
 religion seems to need the perpetual contemplation of 
 horrors ! " 
 
 " It is not like other crucifixes," Countess Vitali replied. 
 "The Christ has his eyes wide open. That is quite heretical, 
 it seems — so much so, indeed, that in the eleventh century, a 
 town not many miles from here ^ was utterly destroyed and its 
 inhabitants massacred because they persisted in the heresy of 
 representing the Christ on their crucifixes with open eyes. Ugo 
 will tell you all about it ; for as I say, I derive my information 
 from him. It is quite likely that the Vitali possessed one of 
 ^ Ferento, the Etruscan Firentinum, the ruins of which still exist.
 
 TEMPTATION 143 
 
 these heretical crucifixes taken from Ferento ; but Donna 
 Giuha, I should say, would hardly have ventured to hang it 
 in her bedroom, as she was so closely connected with a 
 pope." 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " What an edifying story ! " he observed ; 
 "a town destroyed and its population murdered because the 
 eyes of Christ were open ! But, after all, it was a sensible pre- 
 caution of the priests to insist upon Christ keeping His eyes 
 shut." 
 
 " Altro ! " said Cristina drily, " but do not say so to Ugo. 
 Fabrizio," she added suddenly, " you may laugh at me if you 
 choose, but I wish the crucifix had not fallen again. I will have 
 it removed altogether from that room." 
 
 " If I were Ugo, I would sell it," observed Fabrizio. " As it 
 has the peculiarity you speak of, some Englishman or American 
 would probably give a good price for it. I should declare it 
 belonged to some famous character — Lucrezia Borgia, for 
 instance." 
 
 Cristina smiled. "Why Lucrezia Borgia particularly," she 
 asked. 
 
 "She was supposed to be a poisoner, so was Donna Giulia 
 Vitali, only nobody knows about Donna Giulia. I imagine, 
 Cristina, Taddeo firmly believes that Donna Giulia placed the 
 crucifix on my bed. Poor Donna Giulia, she probably only did 
 what the force of circumstances compelled her to do." 
 
 Countess Vitali looked up. " I have often thought that," she 
 said. 
 
 " All the same," continued Fabrizio lightly, determined to 
 distract her thoughts from dwelling upon evil presentiments, 
 " I shall never understand why she did not poison her husband, 
 and continue her liaison with her lover. It would have been 
 more natural. She must have been a weak woman to allow her 
 husband and the Maidalchini to frighten her into playing their 
 game." 
 
 " A weak woman ? perhaps," said Cristina thoughtfully. 
 
 " There is certainly something mysterious about the cardinal's 
 apartments," continued Fabrizio, after a pause during which
 
 144 TEMPTATION 
 
 Countess Vitali traced patterns with the point of her parasol on 
 the flagstones of the terrace. "One feels the atmosphere of 
 the past in them. Do you know, Cristina, that once or twice 
 I have imagined that someone laughed close beside me, when 
 I have been passing through those rooms? If I were a 
 superstitious person, and believed in people having souls and 
 all that kind of thing, I might fancy that the laugh came from 
 Donna Giulia. Unfortunately, I know that it only comes from 
 my own imagination, for I heard the same laugh for the first 
 time in a bad dream the night of my arrival here. Of course, 
 as I was not very well then, it must have become in some way 
 impressed on my memory." 
 
 "You never told me that," Cristina said quickly. 
 
 "No; because you would have laughed at me, as I should 
 have laughed at myself had I believed it to be anything else 
 than a mere trick of the brain." 
 
 " It is strange the people here should be so firmly convinced 
 that Donna Giulia haunts the place," Countess Vitali remarked. 
 " I should hke really to know the history of that woman," 
 she added, "the history of her inner self, I mean. Ugo has 
 some old letters, I believe, relating to her story, but I have 
 never seen them." 
 
 "Perhaps she will appear to you some day," said Fabrizio, 
 " and then you could ask her to explain why she got rid of her 
 lover instead of getting rid of her husband. After all," he con- 
 tinued, " family difficulties were dealt with simply in those days — 
 if somewhat crudely. If relatives were in the way, they were 
 promptly removed." 
 
 Cristina looked at him quickly. "Yes," she said with a 
 sudden laugh. " If we had lived in those days, you and I, we 
 should have poisoned Ugo, or paid some bravo to assassinate 
 him." 
 
 Fabrizio laughed too. " Or Ugo would have done the same 
 by us," he replied lightly. "On the whole," he added, "perhaps 
 it is better that we live in more civilised times, and that we 
 employ lawyers intead of bravi to settle our differences." 
 
 Countess Vitali did not speak for a moment or two, but her
 
 TEMPTATION 145 
 
 eyes were fixed upon Fabrizio with an enquiring expression as 
 though she were trying to read his thoughts. 
 
 "Supposing Taddeo were right," she said presently, "and 
 that it was Donna GiuHa who placed the crucifix on your bed, 
 that her spirit has been near us all the time ? " 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " What absurdities have 
 you got into your head ? It is all very well for Taddeo to have 
 such ideas, he is an uneducated man, and from his earliest 
 childhood has probably heard silly tales concerning Donna 
 Giulia. Of course I was joking when I said just now that perhaps 
 she would appear to you ! " 
 
 " I wish she would ! " said Cristina. " 1 should like to ask 
 her " 
 
 " What ? " demanded Fabrizio, as she paused. 
 
 " Oh, many things." 
 
 Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders. " In any case," he said in 
 a low voice, " I do not suppose you want to take Taddeo's 
 warning ? " 
 
 " Do you want to do so ? " she asked. 
 
 " Giamniai ! " exclaimed Fabrizio emphatically. " Do you 
 think me so weak as to listen to such nonsense, nothing would 
 make any difference now, surely you must know that ! " He 
 glanced up at the windows of the house as he spoke, fearful of 
 explaining himself further, lest his words might be overheard. 
 
 "Nothing?" asked Cristina abruptly. "Whatever might 
 happen in the future, we should still belong to each other." 
 She dropped her voice to a murmur. 
 
 Fabrizio leaned forward. " I swear it ! " he replied. 
 
 " And I — I swear it also," and Cristina's eyes flashed as she 
 said the words. 
 
 "And so," Fabrizio said with a laugh, raising his voice again 
 to the usual pitch. " Donna GiuUa may do her worst ! " 
 
 "Her worst — yes, or her best," returned Countess Vitali 
 ambiguously. 
 
 " And Ugo ? " Fabrizio asked suddenly, " he is out as usual, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " He has gone to mass," replied Cristina. " To-day is a festa, 
 
 K
 
 146 TEMPTATION 
 
 you must know. Oh, not one of the great feste of the Church, 
 but a local affair. You would not be any the wiser if I told you 
 the name of the saint Viterbo is honouring to-day. Ugo will be 
 back before breakfast-time." 
 
 " Then we shall not have to-day to ourselves," said Fabrizio, 
 and he looked at her meaningly. 
 
 Cristina shook her head. " Pazienza ! " she answered with a 
 smile. "Every day is not a festa," she added. 
 
 " But my days with you are limited now," urged Fabrizio. 
 
 "For the moment. But early in September you will come 
 back, for the vintage. We must settle that matter with Ugo 
 to-day, so that it shall be an understood thing. You have never 
 assisted at a vintage, of course, and you are very anxious to see 
 one." 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " Sicuro 1 " he replied, " my country 
 tastes " 
 
 " And after the vintage," proceeded Countess Vitah, " comes 
 the autumn, and winter is not far behind it. And in winter I 
 shall make Ugo bring me to Rome." 
 
 Magari I " exclaimed Fabrizio. " But how will you persuade 
 him to do that, Cristina ? " 
 
 " It will not be I who will persuade him." 
 
 " Who, then ? " Fabrizio asked. " He will scarcely be persuaded 
 by me," he added drily. " There would be something — well, 
 original in the situation. No, Cristina, Ugo is simple, unsuspect- 
 ing, it is true, but he is hardly so simple as all that. Were I to 
 say more to him on that subject than I have already said, he 
 would certainly begin to wonder what my motives might be for 
 taking so much interest in his movements ! " 
 
 Countess Vitali glanced at him. " It seems," she said, " that 
 you are nearly as simple as Ugo ! No, I should not think that 
 the suggestion would come any better from you than from me — 
 and, as you say, there would be something decidedly original in 
 the lover persuading the husband to take such a step, a situation 
 savouring of a French J>ockarde." 
 
 " But who, then ? " repeated Fabrizio. " I do not under- 
 stand."
 
 TEMPTATION 147 
 
 " Ma I " returned Crlstina with a slight shrug of the shoulders, 
 "from the San Felice. Decidedly, Fabrizio, you, too, are simple 
 and unsuspecting, it must run in your family to be so ! " 
 
 "Not always," retorted Fabrizio, smiling, "the husband of 
 Donna Giulia, per esempio, he was not so ! But seriously, 
 Cristina, do you mean to say that you believe the San Felice to 
 have more influence over Ugo than yourself? " 
 
 Countess Vitali laughed — a hard laugh. 
 
 " Do I think it ? " she replied sarcastically. 
 
 " But I remember you telling me — the day when the duchessa 
 called here — that her friendship with Ugo was purely platonic. 
 To be sure, what you told me afterwards of the anonymous 
 letter, and other remarks of yours, have made me suspect that 
 you yourself do not believe in its being platonic." 
 
 "I told you as much," interrupted Cristina almost angrily. 
 " Of course I do not believe in its being so. The San Felice 
 knows very well that I do not. I could not tell you all, Fabrizio 
 mio," she continued in a low voice, " not then, but now — well, 
 now our interests are one. You can understand how much I 
 have had to endure since I married Ugo, and how quickly I 
 realised that our marriage Avas a fatal mistake." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her compassionately. "Povera la mia 
 Cristina ! " he murmured. " Yes, I understand, and I am glad 
 that I understand. Shall I tell you why I am glad?" he 
 added. 
 
 "Yes, tell me ! Tell me everything," said Cristina 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Because the knowledge that Ugo has not been faithful to you 
 removes the last of my scruples. After all, what right has he to 
 complain if you pay him back in his own coin ? " 
 
 " Ah, you understand. I am glad," said Countess Vitali, 
 simply — and her eyes expressed the rest. 
 
 "I wish you would show me that letter, Cristina, I should 
 like to read it," Fabrizio remarked, after a pause. 
 
 Cristina's expression changed, and she gave him one of her 
 rapid, stealthy glances. 
 
 " I destroyed it," she said.
 
 148 TEMPTATION 
 
 " That is a pity," observed Fabrizio, " the letter might have 
 been useful some day — one never knows." 
 
 "It was foolish of me to destroy it," Cristina continued, "but 
 I did so immediately. After all, I had nobody to confide in — 
 nobody to help me. But now — " Her voice changed suddenly, 
 " Here comes Ugo," she said quickly — and at that moment 
 Count Vitali appeared at the end of the terrace.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 CRISTINA VITALI was fully conscious that she had succeeded 
 in establishing her influence over Fabrizio. She had not 
 been unaware of his struggles, feeble though these had been, to 
 escape from the nets she had gradually drawn round him ; and his 
 incapacity to break through their meshes had given her a sense of 
 satisfaction and security in her power over him. She was con- 
 vinced that the fear of injuring his future interests was the only 
 reason which had caused Fabrizio to hesitate to declare his passion 
 for her. The scruples of conscience as to injuring his kinsman's 
 honour and repaying Ugo's kindness with ingratitude she did not 
 for a moment believe to have any real existence. They were, she 
 told herself, mere excuses which Fabrizio advanced in order not to 
 allow her to think that his only real scruple was lest he should 
 compromise his own interests. That her lover should think it 
 worth while to advance such scruples filled Countess Vitali with 
 an impatient surprise, since they were of a nature which in no way 
 appealed to her, nor could she understand them. This being the 
 case, she had contemptuously dismissed them as storie which 
 were merely put forward to save appearances and not to be re- 
 garded as affecting the matter. It was impossible, she argued to 
 herself, that Fabrizio should be otherwise than envious of his 
 cousin's position, and that his mind should not dwell upon the 
 fact that chance might yet place him in that position. She had 
 shrewdly suspected, moreover, that Fabrizio's original motive in 
 visiting Palazzo Vitali was not altogether unconnected with a 
 desire to improve his acquaintanceship with Ugo and to ascertain 
 for himself what Ugo's intentions might be as to the future dis- 
 position of his property should he continue to be childless. That 
 her husband had in the past invited his cousin to Palazzo Vitali 
 on more than one occasion Countess Vitali knew; and she was 
 convinced that Fabrizio's tardy acceptance was only due to the 
 
 X4g
 
 150 TEMPTATION 
 
 fact that now nearly three years had passed since Ugo's marriage 
 and no children had appeared to oust him from his position as 
 his cousin's presumptive heir. It had not been difficult to make 
 Fabrizio admit that his mind occasionally dwelt upon the possi- 
 bilities this position might in the future open out for him. This 
 admission had in itself been sufficient to convince Cristina that, 
 whatever he might profess to the contrary, Fabrizio regarded her 
 husband as an obstacle between him and a state of life which, 
 compared with his present condition, would be prosperity. It 
 had been part of her plan to encourage this idea in the mind of 
 the man who, sooner or later, she knew would become her lover ; 
 and by suggestions more or less subtle and concealed beneath a 
 show of sympathy ; by scarcely veiled hints as to his being far 
 more fitted than Ugo to possess lands and money and to be 
 Count Vitali which flattered Fabrizio's vanity, she believed that 
 she had done so. 
 
 She was aware that, at all events during the first few days of 
 his cousin's visit, her husband had talked to him of her when they 
 were alone together ; and it was evident that Fabrizio was con- 
 vinced of Ugo's affection for her. Such a conviction was un- 
 desirable, and must be removed. Cristina had no wish to appear 
 as a woman capable of deliberately preparing to deceive a husband 
 who was devoted to her. She preferred that Fabrizio should 
 regard her as a wife whom force of circumstances obliged silently 
 to submit to being wronged. The thought had flashed across her 
 mind on the occasion when the Duchessa di San Felice had driven 
 over from Villa Falconara a few days after Fabrizio's arrival, that 
 it would be amusing to lead him to suspect a liaison between the 
 duchessa and her husband to which she, Cristina, had to feign 
 blindness. Very soon she had come to see how this pretended 
 liaison might with advantage be still further developed and in- 
 sisted upon. The anonymous letter, by which Ugo's marriage 
 to her was revealed as being nothing more nor less than a clever 
 contrivance on the part of the duchessa to enable Ugo and her 
 to continue their relations without scandal, had no existence save 
 in Cristina's ready imagination ; but, although purely visionary, 
 it had served its purpose. It had convinced Fabrizio that his
 
 TEMPTATION 151 
 
 cousin's wife was to be pitied — and, as he had himself told her, 
 it had removed the last of those scruples which she believed to 
 be as imaginary as the letter itself. Fabrizio would henceforth 
 listen to Ugo's professions of marital affection with his tongue in 
 his cheek. 
 
 In the early days of Fabrizio's visit it had been an amusement 
 to Countess Vitali to exercise her powers of fascination over a 
 newcomer. To exercise them over Ugo had long ceased to 
 interest her, and Fabrizio, after all, was the first man with whom 
 she had had any opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted 
 since her marriage ; for she did not regard the young Viterbesi 
 who occasionally came to Palazzo Vitali as being worth her 
 attention, since they did not belong to the world into which she 
 was determined some day to enter. 
 
 She had very soon begun to make comparisons in her own 
 mind between her husband and her husband's cousin, and the 
 making of comparisons under certain circumstances is apt to be 
 a dangerous occupation. The hours passed in the latter's 
 company soon became hours she looked forward to as bringing 
 with them a welcome change from the limited topics to which 
 the conversation of the former was usually restricted. Moreover, 
 the difference in personal looks and physique between Ugo 
 Vitali and his cousin was not omitted from her comparisons. 
 No two rnen could have been more unlike, and each was of a 
 type looked upon with favour by women, though more rarely, 
 perhaps, by the same women. But there are some women, 
 as there are many men, who are attracted by change, and seek 
 it ; and Cristina was one of these. She had wearied, both 
 mentally and physically, of the more animal type as represented 
 by her husband, perhaps because that type was more nearly akin 
 to her own; whereas Fabrizio, in form and features, bore the 
 impress of greater refinement of temperament. 
 
 It was not until Fabrizio had displayed evident signs of a 
 determination to bring his visit to a close and to return to Rome 
 that Cristina realized all that his society had meant to her. 
 She looked forward with impatience and weariness to resuming 
 the tete-a-tete life with her husband. Yet Fabrizio could not, of
 
 152 TEMPTATION 
 
 course, remain at Palazzo Vitali indefinitely. People had, no 
 doubt, already begun to comment on the duration of his stay, 
 for the ties of relationship between him and Ugo were, after all, 
 not very close. He certainly could not form the third of a 
 permanent menage a trots in Palazzo Vitali, as another Vitali had 
 done a couple of centuries ago when Donna Giulia Maidalchini 
 was in the place which she, Cristini Frezzi, now occupied. Had 
 Fabrizio been Ugo's brother — The first time this thought had 
 come into Countess Vitali's mind in the course of her meditations 
 she had recoiled from it with a sense of repugnance. There was 
 something sinister in the connection of ideas. The lack of any 
 high standard of morality on the part of Donna Giulia in allow- 
 ing herself to become her brother-in-law's mistress had never 
 greatly concerned Cristina. It was no doubt a somewhat flagrant 
 breach of rules laid down for the well-being of society generally, 
 but she had read enough of the medieval doings of her com- 
 patriots to know that they were not in the habit of practising 
 their immoralities in any half-hearted or scrupulous manner. 
 Donna Giulia's erratic behaviour, however, had led to unpleasant 
 consequences for her lover. There was a lurid atmosphere of 
 crime and death enveloping the whole story. Its exhalations 
 seemed to Cristina to reach her across the centuries together 
 with the thought that, strangely enough, she found herself in a 
 position somewhat similar to that in which Donna Giulia 
 Maidalchini-Vitali had found herself some two hundred and 
 fifty years previously. 
 
 Cristina brooded over this thought. Fabrizio, to be sure, was 
 a distant cousin and not a brother-in-law, and the difference 
 certainly made the situation less scabrosa than had been the case 
 in Donna Giulia's affair. Nevertheless, it was strange that at 
 the close of the nineteenth century a Countess Vitali should find 
 herself in a position similar to that of a Countess Vitali of the 
 seventeenth century. She wondered whether Ugo resembled in 
 character his ancestor. Donna Giulia's husband, and whether 
 Donna Giulia, also, had fallen in love with her brother-in-law 
 through force of contrast. And what had really been the cause 
 of the tragedy which ensued ? Donna Giulia, at all events, had
 
 TEMPTATION 153 
 
 been clever enough to issue unharmed through it all. It was no 
 uncommon thing in those days for a guilty wife to be murdered, 
 as the result of a conseil de famille ; and Cristina called to mind 
 the story of the Duchessa di Palliano, and other well-known 
 examples of such summary vengeance. Had Donna Giulia, she 
 wondered, continued to Hve placidly with her husband after 
 having consented to put her lover out of the way ? As Fabrizio 
 had more than once observed, why did not Donna Giulia get 
 rid of her husband? it would have been a more reasonable 
 proceeding. 
 
 During the last few weeks Donna Giulia's story had possessed 
 a greater fascination for Countess Vitali. Hitherto she had 
 rarely given it a thought, since there were plenty of old families, 
 such as that of her husband, whose annals contained episodes 
 equally grim. Of late, however, she had found her thoughts 
 perpetually recurring to the mystery surrounding Donna Giulia's 
 crime. There seemed now to be a link between her and the 
 Maidalchini woman who was said still to haunt Palazzo Vitali — a 
 bond of sympathy. She, Cristina, had always said that before 
 condemning Donna Giulia it would be well to know her version 
 of the story. She felt now that she was beginning to understand 
 some of Donna Giulia's difficulties, and perhaps some of her 
 temptations. The affair of the crucifix had made an even 
 greater impression on her than she had admitted to Fabrizio — 
 but curiously enough she did not regard it in the light of an evil 
 augury for the newly-born passion that had arisen between 
 Fabrizio and herself. She looked upon it rather as a warning 
 of some evil threatening to befall her lover from which she 
 determined that she would shield him. If it ever occurred to 
 her that she herself might be the evil, she put the thought away 
 from her — as in critical moments of our lives we are all apt to 
 put away from us thoughts distasteful to our frame of mind, or 
 antagonistic to a cherished project. 
 
 Sometimes Cristina would go into the gallery and gaze at 
 Donna Giulia's portrait, as if to seek inspiration from the heavy 
 eyes drooping in a smile at once scornful and voluptuous. 
 Formerly she had scarcely ever given the picture so much as a
 
 154 TEMPTATION 
 
 glance in passing it ; but of late it had become to her as a friend 
 and counsellor, and she looked at it with far more interest 
 and attention than she ever bestowed on the Madonna — a 
 genuine Tiziano, and one of the few pictures remaining in 
 Palazzo Vitali of the Cardinal's collection — which Ugo had 
 caused to be hung in her bedroom. 
 
 The day on which Fabrizio had recounted to her how he had 
 again found the crucifix lying on his pillows, Countess Vitali 
 had spent some minutes studying Donna Giulia's face as it 
 looked down upon her from the wall of the gallery. She was 
 thinking to herself that Donna Giulia and her lover must have 
 managed their affairs very badly not to have been able to carry 
 on their intimacy unknown to Donna Giulia's husband. Suddenly 
 a thought struck her, and it sent a thrill through her body like 
 that of a current of electricity. 
 
 Donna Giulia never could have married her lover, supposing 
 that her husband had died ; but she, Cristina, could marry 
 Fabrizio, should anything happen to Ugo. There could be no 
 possible hindrance, legal or ecclesiastical, to such a marriage — 
 were she free. The idea that she could be Fabrizio Vitali's wife 
 had never before suggested itself to her. She had, it was true, 
 resolved that she would make him love her, and in pursuing her 
 object she had found her own affections entangled. She had 
 looked forward to a liaison which would give her a fresh interest 
 in her life ; and which could, with ordinary tact and prudence, 
 be carried on without bringing complications in its train. She 
 had determined to make Fabrizio useful to her, and had looked 
 forward to the time when she would be able to persuade Ugo to 
 take her to Rome v/here she would by degrees form a salon and 
 become a well-known personage in the society of the capital. 
 She was quite aware that, to be successful in Rome, it was 
 advisable for every woman to have at least one lover ; and from 
 his conversation she believed Fabrizio to be far more in touch 
 with the inner circles of Roman society than was actually the 
 case. 
 
 As she looked up at the porcrait of Donna Giulia a new and 
 hitherto unconsidered view of her own position seemed suddenly
 
 TEMPTATION 155 
 
 to be as it were thrust upon her. Donna Giiilia's eyes seemed 
 to convey to her words which the full and somewhat coarse lips 
 from which age had stolen the redness could not utter. " If you 
 were free, you could make your lover marry you — I could never 
 have married mine ! " she imagined the eyes said to her — and 
 Cristina felt the blood suddenly tingle in her veins. The words 
 — if you were free — seemed to ring in her ears, as though some 
 voice assuredly not her own had spoken her thought aloud. 
 
 She sat down in a heavily gilded arm-chair, the red damask 
 of which was tattered and faded here and there to a pale pink, 
 that stood, one of a long row of similar chairs, beneath the 
 picture, with its back to the wall. Not a sound was to be heard 
 in the gallery, nor indeed in all the house — for it was early in 
 the afternoon and, herself excepted, probably everybody in 
 Palazzo Vitali was sleeping through those hottest hours of the 
 day. 
 
 "If you were free." The echo of the words lingered in 
 Countess Vitali's brain, causing the silence in the deserted rooms 
 around her to seem still deeper. 
 
 Ah — but she was not free — she had no prospect of ever being 
 free. How often had Fabrizio not reminded her — when she 
 had insisted on the fact of his being his cousin's natural heir and 
 successor — that between him and Ugo there was little difference 
 of age, and that Ugo was a stronger man than he ? She scarcely 
 knew why she had dwelt on the fact so persistently to Fabrizio, 
 unless it were in order to make him look upon Ugo's existence 
 as an obstacle to his own happiness and to the complete satisfac- 
 tion of his passion for Ugo's wife. 
 
 Cristina Vitali, sitting under the portrait of her husband's and 
 lover's common ancestress, in a chair that Donna Giulia Vitali 
 had no doubt often sat in, knitted the low, broad brows which 
 caused people to liken her to a woman of the Ciociaria and lost 
 herself in thought. Presently she got up, and moved slowly and 
 mechanically — almost as though she were walking in sleep — 
 across the gallery, placing herself in the chair opposite to that she 
 had just occupied. She felt as if she must sit where she could 
 see the picture and look into Donna Giulia's eyes. And the
 
 156 TEMPTATION 
 
 eyes, with their sHght smile of mockery, looked into her own. If 
 anything were to happen to Ugo, she could marry Fabrizio — that 
 was evident. She would still be the Countess Vitali ; but she 
 would be free to live her life as she wished to live it. Fabrizio 
 was not like Ugo ; he, like herself, wished to live in the world, 
 and to get something out of the world. Fabrizio, too, had 
 brains. With some money, and lands, and a title, he could use 
 his brains and enter politics — and she, Cristina, could help him 
 to make a career. He might even become a minister of State — 
 an ambassador. The future, brilliant with promise, seemed to 
 unfold itself as Cristina pursued her train of thought. She saw 
 herself in the position in which she had always longed to be — 
 always intended to be ; the wife of a prominent man, with the 
 world at her feet. 
 
 Suddenly a shadow seemed to fall across these visions of future 
 success. The frown on Cristina's brows deepened, and her face 
 assumed the expression of one striving to work out an intricate 
 problem. 
 
 Would Fabrizio marry her, if she were free ? Men were by 
 no means always ready to marry their mistresses when marriage 
 became possible. Ay, but she was not Fabrizio Vitali's mistress 
 as yet. True, she had promised to give herself to him — and that 
 before he left Palazzo Vitali — but the irrevocable step had not 
 been taken. Would she not be a fool to take it? Rather, 
 should she not sacrifice her desires to prudence, and bind her 
 lover still more firmly to her by leaving his love, at least for the 
 present, unsatisfied? The world, she knew, was apt to senti- 
 mentalise over people who married their old loves — but to assume 
 a very diff'erent attitude towards those who had forestalled the 
 privileges of matrimony, or broken its already existing bonds. 
 No ! she must not allow her inclinations to cause her to commit 
 a folly. To go slowly was to go safely, and Fabrizio must wait. 
 He must also bring his present visit to Palazzo Vitali to an end 
 without delay, odious as it would be to find herself again quite 
 alone with Ugo, more noioso than it had ever been. She must 
 have time to think — to shape her course, and to see how matters 
 turned out. Perhaps Ugo would go to Rome next winter after
 
 TEMPTATION 157 
 
 all, and in Rome who could tell what might happen ? At Palazzo 
 Vitali, on the contrary, a chance word or look might betray both 
 Fabrizio and herself, and Ugo's suspicions might be aroused by 
 some busybody. Fabrizio must certainly go, and at once. 
 Otherwise when they were alone together, as they had been last 
 night, for instance, she might yield too soon. 
 
 At this point in her reflections Countess Vitali made a sudden 
 movement of impatience. Soon — late — what did it matter? The 
 obstacle was always there — would always be there, unless some 
 unforeseen chance of illness or accident removed it ! What if she 
 were to be prudent only for nothing — and if Fabrizio, indignant 
 at her for not fulfiUing her promise, were to return to Rome and 
 console himself elsewhere ? Why could not fate intervene, and 
 rid her and Fabrizio of this obstacle to their common welfare ? 
 Perhaps Fate would intervene — but when, and how? And 
 Cristina, looking across the room, met the gaze of Donna Giulia 
 fixed upon her. 
 
 " You were not prudent," she said to herself, addressing the 
 portrait in her thoughts, " and afterwards — well, afterwards Fate 
 compelled you to remove an obstacle you had yourself created, 
 but for what scope, or under what pressure, after all these years 
 who can tell? But, all the same, you succeeded. You removed 
 the obstacle. If it be true that your spirit returns here, why 
 cannot you tell me how you succeeded ? " 
 
 She rose from the chair, and it was with a sensible effort that 
 she withdrew her eyes from a gaze which seemed to her imagina- 
 tion to enchain her own. 
 
 A clock in the adjoining room struck four; and Cristina retraced 
 her steps through the cardinal's state apartments and went to her 
 own rooms previous to descending to the terrace, where her 
 husband and Fabrizio had said they would join her before driving 
 to the old Farnese palace of Caprarola which Fabrizio had not as 
 yet been taken to see.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ^ riTTORIA DI SAN FELICE was sitting in the casino on 
 * the lake at Villa Falconara, ostensibly occupied in deal- 
 ing with a voluminous correspondence. Her writing-table was 
 strewn with missives, many of which were as yet unopened, while 
 a large dish of Oriental china standing on another table within 
 arm's length of her chair contained some half a score of letters 
 she had already written since beginning her morning's work. 
 
 It was an understood thing that, save under exceptional circum- 
 stances, the duchessa was not to be disturbed in her retreat by 
 any of her household. Even her children never thought of 
 invading the casino without being summoned thither. The 
 telephone, it was true, connected Vittoria with the villa and the 
 outer world ; but there were occasions when, by the simple ex- 
 pedient of placing a piece of cotton-wool between the bell and its 
 hammer, she would render that instrument powerless to annoy 
 her. 
 
 The Duchessa di San Felice's interests in life were many and 
 varied. Not the least ainong them was an earnest desire to see 
 her own sex exercising a wider and a deeper social influence in 
 her country than was actually the case. Many of her friends, 
 perhaps the majority of them, were apt to laugh at Vittoria di San 
 Felice's ideas upon the subject as being one of the results of her 
 Anglomania. It might be all very well for Englishwomen to 
 speak on public platforms and generally conduct themselves as 
 though they were men masquerading in petticoats, but Italian 
 women were different from Englishwomen ; and, what was of 
 even more importance, Italian men were diiferent from English 
 men in their attitude towards the female sex. To such as these 
 Vittoria did not trouble herself to expound her views, and would 
 content herself with the observation that no doubt every nation 
 had the women, as it was said to have the government, it deserved. 
 153
 
 TEMPTATION 159 
 
 Moreover, for certain Englishwomen she had met during her 
 frequent visits to England who thrust themselves before the 
 public, using religion or social reformation as means to self- 
 advertisement, she had no admiration and not a little quiet con- 
 tempt. Their profound ignorance of the very problems on which 
 they were so ready to discourse in speeches prepared for them by 
 some obscure dependent had been speedily revealed when she 
 had asked them a few simple but leading questions on what she 
 had been informed was their special subject ; while in the case of 
 one at any rate of the lady-reformers of English social evils, 
 Vittoria had enjoyed some opportunity of contrasting the prac- 
 tices of the said lady at Paris and elsewhere on the Continent 
 with the socialistic theories she enunciated with such aplomb on 
 English platforms and to interviewers for the English Press. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice's efforts on behalf of her sex in her own 
 country were certainly not prompted by any desire to gain 
 notoriety. In common with an ever increasing number of Italian 
 women of her own class she was anxious to contribute towards 
 the raising of the intellectual and social status of Italian women 
 of all classes ; to aid them in emancipating themselves from being 
 mere machines for the bringing forth of children, or to minister 
 to the more material necessities of their mankind. Her motive 
 was not individual, nor even entirely feminine. Rather, in a 
 sense, it was national. To pave the way towards making the 
 Italian woman more of a practical and less of a sentimental factor 
 in the social life of her country was an ideal which formed a part 
 of the Duchessa di San Felice's patriotism. According to her 
 view, many of the shortcomings in the average Italian character 
 deplored by all Italian thinkers ; the want of discipline and self- 
 control, the egoism, the widely spread materialism, were largely 
 due to the sentimental traditions which forbade women to 
 take their proper place and exert their legitimate influence. 
 Vittoria di San Felice, it must be confessed, was looked upon 
 with some suspicion by her more conservative compatriots, 
 and also by the high authorities at the Vatican. These last 
 appeared to disapprove of any expansion in the sphere of 
 womanhood ; nor was it unnatural that they should do so, since
 
 160 TEMPTATION 
 
 emancipation of women in a country as yet by no means freed 
 from the yoke of clericalism would in the near future give to that 
 clericalism a death-blow that no legislation could ever succeed in 
 dealing. 
 
 Vittoria, however, and her associates continued their crusade 
 unobtrusively, but none the less effectually, encouraged by the 
 fact that, notwithstanding repeated douches of cold water from 
 ecclesiastical sources, their efforts were regarded with sympathy 
 in the highest of official and intellectual quarters, and by the 
 feeling that they were working, however slowly, for the progress 
 not of their own sex alone, but also for that of their country and 
 their race. 
 
 On this particular morning Vittoria had not considered it 
 necessary to muzzle the telephone, as she expressed it, since she 
 had confined herself to answering the letters which the early post 
 had brought to her from Rome and elsewhere. She had just 
 finished writing a note when the telephone bell rang, and a 
 moment afterwards the maggior-domo's voice informed her that 
 Count Vitah had called, and asked if the signora duchessa would 
 receive him. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice hesitated for a moment before replying. 
 A morning visit from Ugo Vitali was certainly a departure from 
 the usual procedure in such matters. He would occasionally 
 call upon her in the afternoon, should he be in the neighbourhood 
 of Villa Falconara; but a morning visit implied some more 
 weighty object on the part of the caller than a desire for half an 
 hour's ordinary conversation. What, Vittoria wondered, had Ugo 
 Vitali come to talk about ? She hoped that he had not come to 
 talk to her about his wife. It was always embarrassing, she added 
 to herself a little cynically, when men wished to talk about their 
 horses or their wives. One was sure, sooner, or later, to say the 
 wrong thing about either purchase. 
 
 " Tell the signer conte that I shall be happy to receive him," 
 she replied through the telephone. 
 
 "In the casino, or in the house?" demanded the maggior- 
 domo. 
 
 Vittoria hesitated again. "Here," she said at length, "and,
 
 TEMPTATION 161 
 
 are you there, Giovanni ? — ask Miss Wilson if she will be so kind 
 as to come to the casino in about twenty minutes' time — not 
 immediately, you understand — but in about twenty minutes. 
 Meanwhile, you can have the signor conte conducted here." 
 
 Vittoria took up her pen again and proceeded to address the 
 envelope of the note she had just concluded, afterwards placing 
 it in the china dish with the remainder of her correspondence. 
 Presently, the double doors of gilded bronze dividing the room 
 she had converted into a sitting-room from the entrance-hall 
 of the casino were opened, and a footman announced Count 
 Vitali, quietly reclosing the doors as Ugo advanced towards the 
 writing-table. 
 
 " Good morning, Vitali," Vittoria said, easily, as he bent over 
 her outstretched hand and kissed it. " You are an early visitor, 
 and you find me busy with my letters. You will excuse my 
 receiving you here in this informal manner instead of in the 
 house?" 
 
 " I was riding past your gates," Ugo replied, " and I thought you 
 Ivnuld forgive me if I ventured to call at so unconventional an 
 hour as eleven o'clock in the morning." 
 
 Vittoria motioned him to a chair, and, leaving her writing-table, 
 placed herself on a sofa at a little distance from him. 
 
 *' Had you become bored with your horse's society ? " she asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 " He had become bored with mine," replied Ugo ; " so bored, 
 indeed, that he has been doing his best to get rid of me more 
 than once this morning. He is a young horse, and he bucks. 
 But seriously, duchessa, I owe you an apology for intruding upon 
 you at this hour of the day. The fact is, I wished to take the 
 opportunity of seeing you personally on a little matter of business, 
 and of ascertaining your views. It is about the exchange of the 
 land at Cetri." 
 
 Vittoria knitted her brows pensively. 
 
 "Your agent and I have been in correspondence about the 
 matter, as of course you know," continued Ugo; "but there is 
 the question of the drainage." 
 
 "Caro Vitali," observed Vittoria plaintively, "what can I 
 
 L
 
 162 TEMPTATION 
 
 possibly know about the drainage of my land at Cetri? No 
 doubt I ought to know all about it, but I was never taught 
 drainage. It must be a very interesting study." 
 
 Ugo Vitali laughed a little nervously. 
 
 " Naturally," he said ; " it is a technical matter ; you could 
 not be expected to understand. It is a question of levels." 
 
 "Of levels?" repeated Vittoria, glancing at her writing-table, 
 and her letters that yet remained to be opened. " Everything in 
 life is a question of levels." 
 
 Ugo stared at her. " What do you mean, duchessa ? " he asked. 
 
 " I mean," replied Vittoria, with a smile, " that we are always 
 trying to get even with things, and that we seldom or never 
 succeed ! " 
 
 " Ah, that is true ! " said Ugo, with a short sigh. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at him quickly. " But about the 
 drainage," she observed. " You really must not expect me to 
 have any views — indeed, I never before connected drainage with 
 views. In my ignorance, I had merely connected it with the sense 
 of smell." 
 
 Ugo Vitali did not reply. He seemed scarcely to have heard 
 her remark, and was apparently gazing thoughtfully at his brown 
 leather riding-boots. 
 
 "One is always trying to get even with things, and never 
 succeeding," he repeated presently. 
 
 Vittoria shrugged her shoulders. " It is a question of levels," 
 she insisted drily, and immediately afterwards regretted her 
 remark, as she saw her visitor's face suddenly flush. 
 
 "What did I say to myself just now?" she thought. "He has 
 talked of his horse, and he is going to talk of his wife ; and I have 
 said the wrong thing already ! " 
 
 "I meant to say," she continued hastily, aloud, "that we are 
 always attempting to judge people — for of course it is people who 
 produce what are alluded to as ' things '^from our own level 
 quite forgetting that they may be on quite another. I wonder," 
 she added, " what ' things ' you are trying to get even with, Vitali, 
 apart from the drainage of an outlying portion of my property, 
 ben' inteso ! "
 
 TEMPTATION IfiS 
 
 Ugo looked at her hesitatingly for a moment ; then he seemed 
 to gather confidence from the duchessa di San Felice's steady, 
 tranquil glance as her eyes met his own. 
 
 "It was all nonsense about the drainage," he said frankly; "at 
 least, I made it an excuse for calling upon you at this hour " 
 
 "A sufficiently feeble excuse," interrupted Vittoria, "inasmuch 
 as you could not possibly expect me to believe that you called on 
 me with the object of discussing the subject. I must say, Vitali, 
 that I think you might have chosen a more plausible reason, if 
 you could not at once tell me the true one ! " 
 
 "You are right. It was absurd of me to search for any 
 excuse," returned Count Vitali. " But I want a woman's counsel. 
 Donna Vittoria, the counsel of a good woman who is also a good 
 friend. That is why I have come to you." 
 
 Vittoria found herself wondering whether he had noticed that 
 he called her Donna Vittoria, as he used to do in past days, 
 before the death of her father-in-law, the old duke. 
 
 " If you need a woman's counsel, you should seek it of your 
 wife," she replied a little coldly. "Surely," she added, with a 
 smile intended to soften the coldness of her words, "she would 
 also be a good friend ! " 
 
 Ugo VitaU laughed drily. " Under the circumstances," he said, 
 " I could hardly seek counsel of my wife. Will you read this 
 letter, duchessa ? " and he took an envelope from his pocket-book 
 as he spoke. 
 
 Vittoria shook her head. " I would rather not," she said. " If 
 the letter contains anything about your wife, I would rather not 
 read it," she continued. 
 
 Ugo Vitali's eyes gleamed. " Ah," he exclaimed, " you suspect 
 that it contains something concerning my wife! Why should 
 you be so ready to suspect that? Well, you are right — but 
 why will you not read it ? are you not a good friend ? you have 
 always made me feel that you were so." 
 
 "I am a good friend — yes — but I am also a woman. That 
 is why I will not read the letter. You may show it to another 
 man if you please — but you should not show it to another 
 woman."
 
 164 TEMPTATION 
 
 She glanced at the envelope he held out to her as she spoke. 
 " It is an anonymous letter, I conclude," she added, contemptu- 
 ously, " and evidently written by some uneducated person. No, 
 Vitali — I will not read it ; but, as you wish for my counsel, I will 
 give it to you. Take the letter to your wife and make her read 
 it. It is the only honourable thing to do — unless, indeed, 
 you would not be wiser to tear it up at once and throw the 
 pieces out of that window into the lake. An anonymous 
 letter ! it is not worth while thinking a second time about such 
 a thing!" 
 
 Ugo looked at her. "You should have been a man, not a 
 woman ! " he exclaimed. " Nine women out of ten would have 
 read the letter." 
 
 " Ten men out of ten would have read it ! " retorted Vittoria 
 di San Felice. " You do not know enough of women to judge 
 them. Take the letter to your wife." 
 
 " But if it warns me that she " 
 
 Vittoria stamped her foot on the marble floor. " I will not 
 read the letter," she interrupted, " and I forbid you to tell me 
 its contents. Would you have your wife think that you trust me 
 more than you trust her? It is altogether an absurd thing for 
 you to trouble yourself about an anonymous letter. Some day 
 the post will bring one to your wife concerning you ! " 
 
 •' But it affects my honour ! " 
 
 Vittoria laughed. " That is the usual excuse you men give for 
 making idiots of yourselves," she observed. " Does it not affect 
 your wife's honour, per esempio ? " she added drily. 
 
 "It is the same thing." 
 
 " Theoretically. Practically it is not at all the same thing. If 
 it were so, you would be more careful of it than to play into the 
 hands of an anonymous accuser by confiding the contents of 
 that letter to a third person. According to you men, a 
 woman's honour consists in her being careful to preserve her 
 husband's honour intact. She has none of her own, in your 
 view." 
 
 " But to confide in you is quite different," said Ugo Vitali 
 almost sullenly. " You have always been different. I mean "
 
 TEMPTATION 165 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Vittoria tranquilly, as he 
 hesitated. 
 
 " I mean, different from any other woman in my eyes. How 
 many times have you not allowed me to consult you when I have 
 been in a difficulty ? " 
 
 " About a horse or a cow, perhaps — or even about one of your 
 tenants' wives — but hardly about your own ! " The thought was 
 present in Vittoria di San Felice's mind as she spoke that Ugo 
 had certainly omitted to take her into his confidence when he 
 determined to marry the daughter of a sensa/e, but she naturally 
 kept it to herself. To her surprise, and somewhat to her dismay, 
 Ugo Vitali appeared to have divined her thought, for he said, 
 after a pause : — 
 
 " Do you know, Donna Vittoria, that of late I have often 
 wished that I had consulted you three years ago — before I 
 married. I very nearly did consult you ; but you were away — 
 in the Alps, they told me — and I did not like to write to you 
 about my own affairs. If you had been here, I should have 
 told you what I was intending to do." 
 
 Vittoria was silent. It was the second time that he had called 
 her Donna Vittoria, and the name seemed to her to convey with 
 it an appeal to her sympathy — a reminder of the days when they 
 had been on far more informal and intimate terms with one 
 another than had been the case since her widowhood. 
 
 "You would have sought my counsel too late^ — when you had 
 already made up your mind," she said slowly. 
 
 " No, if I had been able to see you, I should have asked you 
 whether you thought I was about to make a great mistake." 
 
 "Why should you have supposed that I could be any judge?" 
 asked Vittoria coldly. " I could not possibly be a judge," she 
 added hastily, ** and in any case it is too late to discuss the 
 subject." 
 
 "I have often wondered what your advice would have been,' 
 persisted Count Vitali. 
 
 " I do not suppose that I should have presumed to offer any 
 advice," returned Vittoria, " but if I had, you would probably not 
 have taken it. When people are in love they do not listen to
 
 166 TEMPTATION 
 
 advice, even if they think it necessary to ask for it. Del resto, 
 you have come here to-day to ask my advice, but you have not 
 the shghtest intention of acting by it." 
 
 " Because you ask me to do an impossible thing," replied 
 Ugo, "or, at any rate, a useless thing. If I took this letter to 
 Cristina she would of course swear that its contents were entirely 
 false." 
 
 "And why should you not believe her?" asked Vittoria 
 abruptly. 
 
 Ugo hesitated. "I do not know," he said, "except that — " 
 and he paused. 
 
 " I think that you should believe her," "Vittoria said gravely, 
 "or that you should at least let her see that you intend to 
 believe her. It is much harder for a woman to continue to 
 deceive a man who insists upon placing his full confidence 
 in her, than it is for her to deceive a man who allows her 
 to suspect he distrusts her. I do not know what that letter 
 contains, and I do not intend to know, as I have told ypu ; but 
 I should certainly advise you not to allow so contemptible a 
 thing as an anonymous letter to come between you and your 
 wife. You do not live in the world, my friend, — if you did, you 
 would know that, at any rate in our Italian world, the sending 
 of anonymous letters is a favourite form of mischief-making. 
 After all, you say yourself that you do not know why you should 
 not believe your wife's word." 
 
 " Except that she no longer cares for me as she used to do. 
 I have begun to realise that." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at him in silence. "You have 
 begun to realise that you have made a mistake," she said to 
 herself. 
 
 "Adagio, Vitali; let us reason a little!" she said at length, 
 lightly. "You jump too quickly to conclusions. Has it 
 never struck you that it is possible your wife may be dis- 
 appointed ? " 
 
 "Altro!" exclaimed Ugo eagerly, "I have always thought 
 that, had she had a child, things would have been very different. 
 It is very strange, you know, there is nothing whatever to account
 
 TEMPTATION 167 
 
 for it — Conradi at Viierbo has declared as much several times. 
 It is a coincidence — a disgrazia. Moreover, it is certainly no 
 fault of mine." 
 
 " I should imagine not," observed the duchessa di San Felice 
 with a scarcely perceptible smile. " But I was not alluding to 
 the disappointment of not having children," she continued. 
 "It is possible that your wife may be disappointed in other 
 ways." 
 
 Ugo opened his eyes more widely. " In what other ways ? " 
 he asked. " She has everything she can want. It is not as if 
 I had taken her from some prince's palace in Rome." 
 
 "If you had done that," remarked Vittoria, "she would 
 probably have been quite contented to lead your life, otherwise 
 she would not have married you." 
 
 " Then you think that Cristina is not contented with the life I 
 have given her — quite apart from the question of children, I 
 mean." 
 
 " Possibly. She is young, and she is good-looking. Also, she 
 is a woman." 
 
 " Che vuol dire ? " 
 
 Vittoria laughed. "Caro Vitali," she replied, "it means — 
 everything ! What were we saying just now ? that we were apt 
 to regard everybody else as being on our own level. Well, you 
 are regarding your wife as though she were on your level, and 
 she is not — I mean, of course, psychologically. The things that 
 interest you, bore her. A woman, when she marries, usually 
 does so under the impression that her whole life is going to be 
 changed. That is an impression quite independent of any sexual 
 influence. It is engrained in the female nature by hereditary 
 transmission of ancient tribal customs dating from God knows 
 when 1 " 
 
 " Duchesc.a ! " exclaimed Ugo, " per carita ! when you begin 
 to talk of these things, you know that I cannot follow you. 
 Besides, I never know when you are speaking seriously, and when 
 you are only laughing at me." 
 
 " I am quite serious. When your wife brought you her cow 
 and a possible goat or two, she was under the impression that
 
 168 TEMPTATION 
 
 she also would acquire additional social importance from the 
 number of enemies' heads you had hanging up in your dwelling. 
 But you have kept her cow and her goats, and you have not 
 allowed her to show your heads to her neighbours — a thing 
 which of course every woman likes to do." 
 
 Count Vitali smiled. "I understand," he said. "But as to 
 the cow and the goats, my wife and I are quits there — for Frezzi 
 kept them, as I daresay you have heard. You think, then, 
 that I shut Cristina up too much — that I should take her to 
 Rome? But you forget, duchessa. She was not noble, and I 
 do not care to expose my wife to the possibility of certain 
 humiliations." 
 
 "She is the Contessa Vitali," interrupted Vittoria, "and you 
 are too old-fashioned in your ideas, my friend. The ridiculous 
 prejudices you allude to are fast dying out, even in Italy. I am 
 afraid that our nobility itself has taught people to regard it as a 
 parasite to be got rid of, rather than as a caste of which to be 
 proud — though, thank God, there are still many exceptions among 
 us. No, you do not seem to have taken into account that your 
 wife may be ambitious ; that in marrying you she looked forward 
 to escaping from her former life and taking her position as the 
 Countess Vitali in the great world. Instead of which, she has 
 found herself thrown upon her own resources in a provincial 
 town." 
 
 " If that be so, she did not marry me for myself, but for what 
 she imagined the marriage would bring her," said Ugo. 
 
 " Probably she married you for both reasons. Did I not tell 
 you just now that a woman's innate desire to change her con- 
 ditions of life by marriage is often quite independent of — well, of 
 other things ? If she can gratify at the same time that desire, 
 and others, she has probably made what is called a happy 
 marriage." 
 
 "You were always much too clever for me, Donna Vittoria," 
 said Ugo, looking at her with a smile, " but even I can understand 
 the drift of your arguments. You are reproving me for not 
 allowing my wife to go into what is called the world. But what 
 is she going to get out of the world ? "
 
 TEMPTATION 169 
 
 "What? Why, wl>at every woman longs for, admiration. 
 She will get plenty of it, and she knows it." 
 
 " Precisely. And you advise me deliberately to expose her 
 to that, when — oh, I am going to be quite open with you 
 — when I have every reason to think that she no longer cares 
 for me ? Of course she would find plenty of admiration, and 
 plenty of men ready to make love to her." 
 
 " Of course. But there is always safety in numbers. It is 
 when a woman eager for admiration is constantly thrown in the 
 society of one admirer that danger is to be apprehended." 
 
 Vittoria spoke carelessly enough, rising from her chair as 
 she did so to re-arrange some flowers on a little table near her. 
 Her visitor did not answer her observation, and by his silence 
 she hoped that her hint had not been lost upon him. The 
 thought was a relief to her mind, for she had determined to give 
 him the hint on the first favourable opportunity, and she had 
 often wondered how she should frame it so as to appear neither 
 untimely nor offensive. 
 
 " Yes," she continued, in a more earnest tone, " if I were you, 
 Vitali, I should certainly take your wife to Rome next winter — 
 and I should certainly show that letter to her, and to nobody 
 else. Whatever may be written in it, I do not for a moment 
 suppose to be true. But even were its contents true, wholly or in 
 part, it is an evil nature that does not respond to a generous 
 confidence — and, believe me, many women, and, for all I know, 
 many men have been saved in the hour of temptation by feeling 
 that the person they were about to wrong trusted them." 
 
 Ugo Vitali looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he 
 replaced the letter in his pocket-book. "I daresay you are 
 right," he said, " and I will take the letter to Cristina. As you 
 say, it is an evil nature that does not respond to confidence. As 
 to next winter — c'e tempo. Many things may happen before then, 
 and I may see my way more clearly than I do at present. I am 
 glad I came to you this morning, duchessa— a thousand thanks 
 for receiving me." 
 
 ** Will you not stop to breakfast, and see the children ? " asked 
 Vittoria. "Ah," she exclaimed, as a slight tap on the door
 
 170 TEMPTATION 
 
 interrupted her. " Here is their governess — she was to come to 
 me at twelve o'clock. Come in, please, Miss Wilson ! you know 
 Count Vitali. And you will not stay to breakfast, Vitali — no ? 
 Well, Miss Wilson and I will come to see you mount your buck- 
 jumper," and taking up a parasol the Duchessa di San Felice led 
 the way from the casino to the stables where Ugo's horse had 
 been put up, talking alternately in Italian and English to her 
 companions.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 'T^HE letter which Ugo Vitali had received, though obviously 
 •^ written by an uneducated person, was guarded enough in 
 its language. It warned Count Vitali that he would be wise to 
 watch his wife's movements, as his honour and the honour of 
 Casa Vitali were in danger. The document was, of course, 
 unsigned ; and, save for the Roman postmark, bore no clue as 
 to its origin. Ugo had received it by the afternoon post, the 
 day after the expedition to Caprarola, and had spent a disturbed 
 night in consequence. 
 
 His first sensation on reading the letter had been one of 
 indignation that anyone, of however obscure or insignificant a 
 position, should dare to send him such a missive ; and his first 
 impulse was to tear it up contemptuously and determine to dismiss 
 it from his mind. He found himself, however, unable so to 
 dismiss it. 
 
 What if Cristina's capricious, and sometimes irritable moods, 
 and the change that had come over her during the last months, 
 were due — not, as he had always assured himself, to her dis- 
 appointment at having no children, but to the fact that she no 
 longer cared for him but did care for some other man ? Ugo 
 read and re-read the letter. He thought of all the men with 
 whom his wife had been brought into contact since he had 
 married her. They were not numerous, and belonged exclusively 
 to that small society which existed in and around Viterbo. He 
 could not call to mind any one of them in whom Cristina had ever 
 displayed any particular interest. He had, indeed, often heard 
 her sneer at the provincialism of those young men who would 
 occasionally call at Palazzo Vitali ; and, with the exception of his 
 cousin Fabrizio, she had not had the opportunity of seeing any 
 others. It was absurd, he told himself, to think of Fabrizio in 
 connection with this anonymous warning. The two were 
 
 171
 
 172 TEMPTATION 
 
 excellent friends, as they might have been were Fabrizio his brother 
 instead of his cousin. Since Fabrizio had been with them, 
 moreover, Cristina had certainly been less irritable, and appar- 
 ently altogether more contented with her life than before — and he, 
 Ugo, had been glad that the two should discuss together things 
 in which he could not pretend to take any interest. Could it be, 
 he wondered, that there was someone for whom Cristina had 
 cared before she married him — and who, in some way unknown to 
 him, had come again into her life ? 
 
 The more he pondered over the matter, the more undecided he 
 felt as to whether he should destroy the letter and endeavour to 
 forget its contents, or whether he should act in accordance with 
 the advice it gave him. In the midst of his reflections he thought 
 of the Uuchessa di San Felice. Sicuro ! Donna Vittoria was a 
 loyal friend, both to himself and to Cristina. She was also a 
 woman of the world, tactful and prudent, who could be relied 
 upon not to make mischief or to give him anything but sound 
 and sensible advice. He would take the letter to Donna 
 Vittoria, as he always called her in his thoughts — and would hear 
 what she had to say about it. He more than suspected that the 
 duchessa had some intuition as to the state of affairs which had 
 grown up during the last year or so between Cristina and himself 
 Donna Vittoria at all events knew that Cristina took little or no 
 interest in those country pursuits and duties which formed his 
 life, for he himself had admitted as much to her on more than 
 one occasion when the duchessa had half laughingly reminded 
 him that, now he had married, it was his wife whom he should 
 consult, and not herself. 
 
 The thought that within a few miles of him was an old 
 friend in whom he could confide his difficulty did much to 
 soothe Count Vitali's troubled mind. To take the letter at 
 once to Cristina scarcely occurred to him ; or occurred to him 
 OHly as a thought to be immediately dismissed as impracticable. 
 He shrank instinctively from doing anything that might cause 
 the breach between them, which had appeared of late to be 
 somewhat reduced, to widen again. Donna Vittoria, with her 
 sound judgment, her knowledge of her own sex, and her utter
 
 TEMPTATION 173 
 
 disregard for gossip or scandalmongering, would certainly be 
 able to point out the wisest course for him to pursue. Very 
 likely the letter was merely an impudent attempt of an evilly- 
 disposed individual anxious to make mischief between him and 
 his wife ; or it might be the work of some impostor who would 
 follow it up with other letters asking for money. But if there 
 were anything — if- — well, the Duchessa di San Felice, the friend of 
 his early youth, would surely be a better counsellor than any 
 other. At least she would not fly off and tell all Viterbo that 
 Count Vitali had received an anonymous letter hinting at 
 unfaithfulness on the part of his wife. And so that evening Ugo 
 Vitali had kept his own counsel ; and if he had been silent and 
 preoccupied neither Cristina nor Fabrizio had noticed the fact. 
 The following morning he had ridden about his property as 
 usual, choosing as a mount a young horse — a recent purchase — 
 that needed all his patience and skill to ride, accustomed as he 
 had been from childhood to the saddle. He had chosen the 
 animal purposely, feeling that in the management it would 
 require he would find a means of escape from his own thoughts. 
 The object necessitating his morning's inspection of various 
 portions of his land being completed, to pay a visit to 
 the mistress of Villa Falconara had seemed a comparatively 
 simple affair until he found himself within a kilometre or so 
 of his destination, and saw the woods — once a portion of that 
 mysterious Ciminian forest so long believed by the ancient 
 Romans to form an impassable barrier between themselves and 
 the rich Etruscan cities on its further confines — which surrounded 
 the villa standing in their midst on the hill above. As he 
 approached Donna Vittoria's home, however, his task seemed 
 gradually to assume a more complicated nature. For some 
 reason he could not explain to himself, he felt that it would not 
 be so easy as he had imagined to take the Duchessa di San 
 Felice into his confidence. An uncertainty arose in his mind as 
 to whether she would allow him to confide so intimate a matter 
 to her, and whether she might not resent his attempt to obtain 
 her advice as presuming too much upon her friendship towards 
 him. It had been this feeling which had caused Ugo to search
 
 174 TEMPTATION 
 
 for an excuse for calling at Villa Falconara before mid-day ; an 
 excuse of which the duchessa had exposed the flimsiness almost 
 as soon as he had made it. 
 
 Ugo Vitali had certainly not anticipated any such counsel 
 from the Duchessa di San Felice as that which she actually gave 
 him. He did not, indeed, altogether know what he did expect 
 of Donna Vittoria, unless it were her sympathy. Different as 
 their lives were, Ugo felt that she had always understood him, 
 and that she had never regarded him as merely a campagnuolo 
 with no aims and objects beyond those of gathering in his crops 
 or breeding serviceable stock. He knew that she understood, 
 and shared, that almost passionate devotion to the country, and 
 to the things animate and inanimate of the country, which was a 
 part of his nature. This love for the country had been the 
 earliest link between Vittoria di San Felice and himself, and had 
 formed the foundation of their friendship. It is a love all too 
 rare among Italians generally ; nevertheless it is occasionally to 
 be found among individuals of all classes in Italy. 
 
 Not the least bitter part of the gradual process of destruction 
 to which his illusions concerning Cristina had lately been 
 subjected was the knowledge that she was incapable of under- 
 standing his nature, or of sharing his interests. During the 
 first year of their married life this want of harmony had not 
 struck him so forcibly as it had since done. He was beginning 
 to suspect that Cristina, in those days, had feigned an interest 
 which in reality had never existed, and this suspicion had 
 increased as time went on until it had become almost a certainty. 
 He had begun to realise that Cristina had married him not for 
 himself, but because he was Count Vitali, a man who could give 
 her a position in the world, and who, as she had thought, was of 
 the world. This suspicion, more perhaps than anything else, 
 had aroused in Ugo Vitali all that obstinacy of character which 
 had been accentuated by the narrow surroundings amid which 
 he had been brought up from his earliest infancy. He had 
 determined that he would be deaf to his wife's repeated sugges- 
 tions as to the necessity of changing their mode of life. When 
 he had offered himself as a husband for Cristina, he had
 
 TEMPTATION 175 
 
 explained his position clearly to the cavaliere Frezzi ; and 
 Cristina had taken him knowing that in doing so she was 
 marrying a country gentleman who had no intention of living 
 any other life than that which his father had lived before him. 
 
 As he rode homeward after his interview with Vittoria di San 
 Felice, Ugo had pondered deeply over the advice which had 
 been given him. Donna Vittoria, he told himself, had set him 
 two tasks which were hard to perform, but in doing so she had 
 indirectly appealed to his generosity. It had been, indeed, the 
 appeal of one generous nature to another; and, in making it, 
 Vittoria di San Felice had not erred in her calculations as to the 
 response it would meet with. 
 
 She had refused to admit that he should turn to any other 
 person than his own wife for an explanation as to the contents of 
 the anonymous letter he had received — if any explanation were 
 necessary. She had also gently reproached him for his egoism 
 in not attempting to place himself, as it were, in Cristina's 
 position, and endeavour to make allowance for one who had 
 views different from his own as to what constituted a happy or a 
 useful life. 
 
 And Ugo Vitali's nature had at once responded to the call 
 made upon his generosity. He told himself that Donna Vittoria 
 was right. He would take the letter to Cristina, if only to show 
 her that he intended to have implicit confidence in her, and that 
 he refused to allow any misunderstandings to arise between them. 
 As the duchessa had said, it was an evil nature which could 
 refuse to return confidence for confidence, and he was not going 
 to assume Cristina to be of such a nature. No doubt, too, 
 Donna Vittoria was equally right in advising him to give way to 
 his wife's desire to see more of the world. She, Donna Vittoria, 
 was a woman, and as such might be supposed to understand her 
 own sex better than he could do. Moreover, woman of the 
 world though she was, she was all that was the reverse of 
 worldly ; and, therefore, if she sympathised, as apparently she did 
 sympathise, with his wife's wish to see and be seen by the world 
 of society, she doubtless had a very good reason for counselling 
 him to do something towards gratifying that wish.
 
 176 TEMPTATION 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that Vittoria di San Felice's counsels 
 immediately prevailed with him, Ugo was unable altogether to 
 dismiss the fear lest his wife might misinterpret his motives in 
 showing her the anonymous letter. Would she respond to a 
 generous confidence as — well, as Donna Vittoria herself would 
 have responded under similar circumstances? He had not 
 thought it necessary to tell the duchessa, when she insisted that 
 he should take the letter direct to Cristina, that this course had 
 occurred to him, and that he had not even considered it but 
 had at once dismissed it from his mind. Donna Vittoria 
 would have at once proceeded to reason with him on the sub- 
 ject ; and in the process he would have scarcely been able to 
 avoid letting her know more of his domestic troubles than 
 would be becoming to admit even to an intimate and trusted 
 friend. 
 
 He had speedily determined, however, that he would follow the 
 advice he had sought ; and as he rode up the long slope of the 
 rising ground dominated by the walls and gateways of Viterbo, 
 and turned into a by-lane leading into the grounds behind Palazzo 
 Vitali, he had resolved to banish his doubts as to the spirit in 
 which Cristina might receive his confidence, and to seek an early 
 opportunity of showing her the letter. 
 
 " Of course," he said to himself, " the whole thing must be 
 nonsense, an impudent attempt on the part of somebody 
 Cristina has offended to make mischief, at which she and I will 
 be able to laugh." But, often as he repeated the words in his 
 mind, they proved powerless to drive out the doubt that refused 
 to be convinced by them. 
 
 It was considerably past the breakfast-hour when Ugo reached 
 Palazzo Vitali. Entering the dining-room, he found that Cristina 
 and his cousin had nearly finished that meal. His appearance 
 was evidently unexpected, for Cristina started slightly as he came 
 into the room. 
 
 " I thought you said you would probably not return to break- 
 fast," she observed quickly. " Fabrizio and I have nearly 
 finished." 
 
 " It does not matter," replied Ugo, " I am not very hungry.
 
 TEMPTATION 177 
 
 I will ring the bell, for Taddeo does not know that I have 
 reiurned. I can eat up what you and Fabrizio have left." 
 
 "You had better order something fresh," said Countess 
 Vitali ; " some eggs al piatto and some cutlets alia milanese ; 
 those can be ready in a few minutes. Are you going out again 
 after breakfast ? " 
 
 "No, I have done my business for to-day," Ugo replied. 
 There was a pause, during which Taddeo appeared in answer to 
 the bell and hastily departed to the kitchen. 
 
 " It is a good thing that you have returned early," observed 
 Cristina presently. " You and Fabrizio will be able to see some- 
 thing of one another before he leaves us." 
 
 Ugo looked up surprised. " Leaves us ? " he repeated. " Do 
 you mean to say that you are going away to-day ? " he added to 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 "Well, not actually to-day," Fabrizio replied, " but I am afraid 
 that I must return to Rome to-morrow morning, by the first 
 train " 
 
 " Fabrizio has had a letter from his mother," interrupted 
 Cristina. " It appears that she wants him to come back at once. 
 Some business matter, is it not ? " she continued, glancing at 
 him. 
 
 Fabrizio laughed nervously. " Yes," he said, " a mere trifle, 
 but, as you know, Ugo, my mother has nobody except me to 
 attend to her affairs for her, so I'm afraid I must really leave you 
 this time. I have said the same thing so often, that you have 
 probably ceased to believe me ! " 
 
 " I am sorry," said Ugo, a little absently. " But, of course, a 
 matter of business, that must be attended to, and no doubt your 
 mother needs you." 
 
 "But he will return here later on, for the vintage," Cristina 
 observed. "That is an understood thing, Fabrizio, is it not? 
 You promised Ugo that you would do so, and if you do not keep 
 your promise, we shall conclude that our country life here has 
 been too dull for you to venture to repeat your visit. We expect 
 him for the vintage, do we not, Ugo ? " she added, turning to her 
 husband.
 
 178 l^EMPTATION 
 
 "Of course," replied Ugo hesitatingly, "that is," he added, 
 " if nothing unforeseen happens. Yes, of course you must return, 
 Fabrizio." 
 
 Cristina gave him a quick glance, one full of suspicion. There 
 was a lack of cordiality, of genuineness in Ugo's voice which was 
 not natural to him. 
 
 " Fabrizio will have ample time to invent an excuse before the 
 vintage begins," she remarked indifferently. " We are only in 
 July, and September is some way off ! No ! " she added, as 
 Fabrizio began to protest, " the more you say now, the more 
 difficult it will be for you to invent excuses afterwards ! So be 
 careful, Fabrizio, and do not say too much." She laughed as she 
 spoke, but her eyes fixed themselves for an instant on Fabrizio 
 with a warning look. 
 
 Ugo smiled also. Cristina's words and manner were perfectly 
 natural. It was only her quick glance at Fabrizio which, had he 
 noticed it, might have led him to suspect that her observation 
 was intended to convey a different meaning to each of her 
 listeners. 
 
 "After that remark," he said to Fabrizio, "you will not dare 
 to tell us in September that you are engaged. When I say 
 September," he added, " I mean quite early in that month. 
 The heat has brought the vines forward very rapidly this year, and 
 the grapes are already considerably larger than is usually the case 
 in July. I expect that by the middle of September we shall 
 have already finished our vintage round here." 
 
 It had been somewhat of a surprise to Ugo to learn that his 
 cousin was really leaving them the following morning; and at 
 the same time the intelligence afforded him a certain relief. The 
 question of Fabrizio's departure had, of course, been discussed 
 more than once ; but as there had been no definite reason — be- 
 yond the fact that his visit had already been of considerable 
 duration — for his leaving, the matter, by common consent, had 
 been allowed to remain unsettled. Whatever latent doubts Ugo 
 VitaU might have as to whether his anonymous correspondent 
 had not intended to warn him against Fabrizio's presence under 
 his roof, these were completely dispelled by his wife's last remark.
 
 TEMPTATION 179 
 
 He immediately regretted his want of cordiality in seconding her 
 suggestion that Fabrizio should return in order to assist at the 
 vintage, the more so as he now recollected that this suggestion had 
 originally proceeded from himself. 
 
 As soon as Ugo had finished breakfast, and they had left the 
 dining-room he approached his wife. " I have a little matter of 
 business to talk over with you, Cristina,"he began, "a letter " 
 
 " More delays in the settlement of the Marchesa Santoro's 
 affairs, I suppose," Countess Vitali interrupted impatiently. 
 " Really, Ugo," she added, " those Roman lawyers are too bad — 
 they are farabutti, all of them ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " It is part of a lawyer's business to create 
 difficulties," he said. " You forget, my dear cousin, that I am 
 a lawyer." 
 
 " By profession," retorted Cristina drily. 
 
 " It seems to me,'' observed Ugo, " that a dentist might just as 
 well say that it was part of his business to poke holes in sound 
 teeth. But it is not a question of the Santoro lawyers, Cristina — 
 but merely of a letter I have received that I think — that I wish 
 you to see," he concluded hastily. 
 
 " How mysterious ! " exclaimed Countess Vitali lightly. 
 " When you have smoked your cigar you will find me in my 
 room. It is much too hot to think of going out till five oclock " ; 
 and, so saying, she took up a book and went out of the drawing- 
 room, leaving her husband and Fabrizio alone together. 
 
 After she had gone, Ugo Vitali exerted himself to talk to 
 his cousin, but Fabrizio quickly saw that his host was pre- 
 occupied with his own thoughts. 
 
 •' I have been thinking," Ugo said suddenly — after a prolonged 
 pause during which he had puffed abstractedly at his cigar — " that 
 it might be a good thing to take an apartment in Rome next 
 winter. It is very dull for my wife to be shut up here during the 
 winter months. What do you think, Fabrizio ? " 
 
 Fabrizio started. He could hardly believe that he had heard 
 aright. 
 
 " But I thought you hated Rome ! " he said, not knowing what 
 else to say.
 
 180 TEMPTATION 
 
 " So I do," returned Ugo emphatically, •' but Cristina would 
 like to spend at any rate a part of the season there, and once in 
 a way, perhaps, it might be a good thing to do. You see, 
 Fabrizio, she has very few interests here. It is not as if she had 
 her children to occupy her. And, after all, women like society." 
 
 " I have often told you that you should take your wife to 
 Rome," observed Fabrizio guardedly. " She certainly will be 
 very much admired there," he added. 
 
 Ugo sniffed contemptuously, " Of course ! " he said. " Every 
 one of the wretched little specimens of our sex, who, I am told, 
 run from one tea-party to another in Rome, will try to make love 
 to her ! but I am not jealous, caro mio ; and I can trust Cristina 
 to take care of herself." 
 
 "Si capisce ! " returned Fabrizio hastily. "All the same," he 
 continued, " I am surprised, Ugo. I thought that you would 
 never go to Rome, or indeed to any city, for the sake of its 
 society." 
 
 Ugo laughed drily. " Neither would I ! " he replied ; " but I 
 have wondered lately whether I ought not to consider Cristina's 
 wishes a little more than I have hitherto done. No doubt she 
 has often told you that she would like to see more of the 
 world?" 
 
 Fabrizio hesitated. " Often, no," he replied. " She has 
 occasionally told me that she was bored with the very small 
 society you have here at Viterbo, and that she would like to make 
 the acquaintance of people who formed part of the real life of Italy 
 and elsewhere. She has said the same thing to you, Ugo, in my 
 presence, is it not true ? Cristina is a clever woman. Though 
 her life has been a very secluded one, she has read a great deal ; 
 and I have sometimes been surprised at the ease with which she 
 can talk on subjects of which I should have thought she would 
 scarcely have heard." 
 
 Ugo sent a little ring of smoke curling up into the air and 
 watched it meditatively. 
 
 "That is true," he said presently. "Until you came here 
 I had never realised that Cristina was so much interested in all 
 that is going on in the world. Your conversations together
 
 TEMPTATION 181 
 
 have often been quite out of my depth, though they might easily 
 be that, for I am ignorant of everything except my own particular 
 business. She would know that it would be waste of time to 
 talk to me as she talks to you." 
 
 Fabrizio looked at him suspiciously ; but it is evident that he 
 was speaking in perfect sincerity. 
 
 " And as she would talk to anyone else who she felt shared 
 her interest in those things," he said. 
 
 Ugo nodded. " One should try to put oneself on the same 
 level as other people," he remarked ; " or, at any rate, to realise 
 that they have a different level from one's own." 
 
 Fabrizio stared at him. 
 
 "I do not understand," he began. 
 
 Ugo laughed shortly. " No ? " he asked. " I mean that when 
 I married Cristina, I thought that she and I were, intellectually, 
 on the same level. She is not on my level, but on a higher one, 
 and I have been trying to compel her to descend to mine. It is 
 very simple." 
 
 "And now?" asked Fabrizio. 
 
 " Now I shall not try any longer to make her descend to mine," 
 replied Ugo. 
 
 Fabrizio looked at him enquiringly. " I wonder," he observed, 
 " what has made you suddenly arrive at this decision ? Two or 
 three days ago you told me that nothing would induce you to 
 waste your time by going to Rome." 
 
 Ugo did not answer the question. " If you do not mind my 
 leaving you, I will go to Cristina," he said, *' and later we can all 
 meet on the terrace." 
 
 Without further delay he went to the apartment Cristina used 
 as a sitting-room, a large room which in past times had served 
 as an ante-chamber to the suite they now occupied. The 
 windows of this room looked into the courtyard, as did those of 
 Ugo's bedroom which was immediately beyond it : while the apart- 
 ment in which Cristina slept communicated with it by lofty double 
 doors situated at the opposite end. As is the case in most 
 Italian palaces, this second suite of rooms formed as it were an 
 independent establishment which, having its own staircase and
 
 182 TEMPTATION 
 
 servants' offices could, if necessary, be completely separated from 
 the rest of the house. 
 
 The room was darkened to keep it cool and fresh, and the 
 windows hermetically closed to shut out the hot air rising from the 
 courtyard beneath, on which the fierce July sun was beating 
 pitilessly, 
 
 Cristina was seated near her writing-table, an open book, 
 which she put aside as the door opened upon her husband, lying 
 in her lap. 
 
 "You have brought me the mysterious letter?" she asked, as 
 Ugo approached her chair. He came and stood by her side. 
 
 "Yes," he said hesitatingly, "but " 
 
 Cristina stretched out her hand. "I am to read it, I sup- 
 pose ? " she interrupted. " Why do you look so grave, 
 Ugo?" 
 
 " I want you to read it — yes," returned Ugo ; " but, first 
 of all, Cristina, I want to be sure that you will understand 
 why I give it you — that you will see that it is because I trust 
 you." 
 
 Cristina sat up in her chair, all her suspicions aroused by his 
 words. Could the letter contain some warning as to her relations 
 with Fabrizio? she wondered. 
 
 " Ma, caro mio," she exclaimed impatiently, "it is nothing 
 unusual for a man to trust his wife — no ? Do not let us waste 
 time in complimenting one another ! From your grave face one 
 would imagine the matter to be serious." 
 
 Ugo put the letter into her hand in silence. 
 
 She read it eagerly, once, twice. Then she laughed. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Ugo, drawing in his breath sharply, "you 
 laugh?" 
 
 Cristina looked at him tranquilly. " But certainly I laugh ! " 
 she said. " I do not see what else there is for me to do. And 
 you, why do you not laugh also, Ugo, instead of looking so grave? 
 Is it possible that you have allowed yourself to be disturbed by 
 this ridiculous thing ? " 
 
 Ugo Vitali looked at her keenly. " That is all very well," he 
 replied ; " but you forget, Cristina, I have some reason to be
 
 TEMPTATION 183 
 
 disturbed by the fact that such a letter could be written about my 
 wife. Moreover — " and he hesitated. 
 
 Countess Vitali scarcely seemed to hear him. She was ap- 
 parently engaged in studying the handwriting of the letter, which 
 she still held. 
 
 " So ! " she exclaimed ; " you are to watch my movements ! 
 That should not be a difficult thing to do, since here at Viterbo 
 they are necessarily somewhat limited." 
 
 " I should have destroyed the letter, and should have thought 
 no more about it," continued Ugo, " only " 
 
 ''Only?" 
 
 " Only that you have not been quite so happy of late as you 
 appeared to be when we first married," said Ugo bitterly; "and 
 when a woman is not happy with her husband it is generally 
 because she is thinking all the time of some other man with whom 
 she believes she would have been happier." 
 
 Cristina looked at him curiously. 
 
 " So you believe that your anonymous correspondent is 
 right," she observed quietly, " and that I am thinking of 
 some other man ! I wonder who you suspect the other man to 
 be? Corti, perhaps, or Malvezzi," and she mentioned two 
 young men who prided themselves on being viveurs in Viterbese 
 society. 
 
 "I do not suspect anybody," returned Ugo hastily, "and you 
 least of all, Cristina ! Cannot you understand ? It is because I 
 do not suspect that I have brought you the letter ? " 
 
 Cristina was silent for a moment. Presently she asked quickly : 
 " When did you receive this absurd letter ? " 
 
 " Only yesterday. When we returned from Caprarola I found 
 it among the other correspondence which had arrived by the 
 afternoon post." 
 
 " And why did you not tell me of it at once — yesterday ? " 
 
 Ugo hesitated. " I did not know what to do for the best," he 
 said at length. " It required consideration. You see, Cristina, 
 I was afraid that you would not understand, that you would think 
 I was bringing the letter to accuse you. Via ! I will be quite 
 frank with you, and then we shall understand each other : no 1 I
 
 184 TEMPTATION 
 
 needed advice, the advice of someone I could trust as being a 
 good friend to both of us. So, before showing you the letter I 
 consulted " 
 
 " Fabrizio ? " exclaimed Countess Vitali. 
 
 " Fabrizio ? but of course not ! I went to Villa Falconara. 
 The San Felice is a woman of the world, and your friend as well 
 as mine." 
 
 Cristina sprang up from her chair. " You showed that letter 
 to the San Felice ? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " No. 1 intended to have shown it to her, but she refused to 
 allow me to do so. She even refused to hear or to know its 
 contents. When I explained to her that it referred to you, and 
 asked her what she would advise me to do, she told me that I 
 should take it to my wife only, and to nobody else." He paused, 
 and looked at her earnestly, but Cristina made no reply. She 
 stood twisting the letter in her hands, her brows knitted. But 
 there had been an expression of absolute incredulity on her face 
 as she listened to Ugo's words. 
 
 " And so," she said presently, " acting on the Duchessa di San 
 Felice's advice you have brought the letter to me to give me an 
 opportunity of justifying myself." 
 
 " My first impulse was to bring it to you," answered Ugo 
 simply ; " but I was afraid, as I have told you, that you might 
 misinterpret my motive for doing so. But you do not mis- 
 interpret it, Cristina? You do understand both why I was 
 afraid to bring it to you at once, and why I do so now, do you 
 not ? " 
 
 For some moments he waited in vain for her answer. Then 
 Cristina turned to him. " If I had received a similar letter con- 
 cerning you," she said, " I should not have consulted a third 
 person. But of course you and the San Felice were intimate 
 friends long before you knew me ! " 
 
 Ugo's face flushed. " What do you mean, Cristina ? " he asked 
 shortly. 
 
 Countess Vitali shrugged her shoulders. " Merely what I say," 
 she replied coldly. " The Duchessa di San Felice is, no doubt, 
 very disinterested — but if your confidence in me is only due to
 
 TEMPTATION 185 
 
 her counsels, you cannot expect me to be much flattered by that 
 confidence ! " 
 
 Ugo stared at her in bewilderment. " Do you mean to say," 
 he exclaimed, "that you are jealous of her?" 
 
 Cristina's eyes flashed. " I do not give myself the trouble," 
 she replied. " I have always been aware that she was your — 
 friend. Marriage does not necessarily interfere with such friend- 
 ships, does it ? " 
 
 Her voice was loud and sneering, and there was something in 
 its tones and in the expression of her face that made Ugo Vitali 
 think of some peasant woman quarrelling with her husband or 
 her lover. A momentary feeling of disgust was quickly replaced 
 by anger at the malicious suggestion contained in her words, and 
 for the first time in his life with her he lost control over his 
 temper. 
 
 "Ferdt'o/^' he exclaimed, "You are suggesting what you 
 know to be a lie. Perhaps you are lying in order to search for 
 some excuse for being unfaithful to me ! Are you ? answer me," 
 and he seized her arm roughly. 
 
 Cristina recoiled from him. She was frightened, and not a 
 little surprised. Often as she had tried her husband's patience in 
 the last couple of years, she had never seen him give way to 
 anger. Even in her alarm, however, her inherent astuteness did 
 not fail her, and her suspicious nature at once led her to believe 
 that she divined the real cause of his anger. Her shaft, sped at 
 random had, she told herself, hit the mark, and Ugo's sudden 
 outburst of anger was a proof that there was more than old 
 friendship between him and the Duchessa di San Felice. In at 
 once assigning the lowest motive to her husband's unexpected 
 outbreak of contemptuous anger, the instincts of the Norcian 
 peasant blood came to the surface ; as they had done during her 
 lapse into the peasant coarseness of tone and gesture a moment 
 before. In an instant she decided on her course. An open 
 quarrel with Ugo must be avoided at all costs ; and the knowledge 
 she believed she had gained must be reserved as a weapon for 
 future use, if necessary. 
 
 " Forgive me, Ugo," she exclaimed gently. " I was wrong ; it
 
 186 TEMPTATION 
 
 was odious of me to say that. But it is you who do not under- 
 stand. A wife resents the thought that her husband has sought 
 the advice of another woman — has confided in another woman 
 rather than confide in her. I was mad to speak as I did ! Of 
 course I Icnow that you and the San Felice have always been 
 friends — real friends, I mean, and that she is my friend also. 
 But for the moment — to feel that you had confided the contents 
 of that letter to her " 
 
 Ugo caught her hands in his own, and before she had ceased 
 speaking every trace of anger had vanished from his face. 
 
 " Cristina ! " he exclaimed. " It is for you to forgive me ! I 
 am an imbecile, and it is I who have not understood. You are 
 right to reproach me, for I should have had more confidence in 
 you than to seek advice from another, even from so old a friend 
 as Donna Vittoria." 
 
 Cristina passed her handkerchief over her eyes, and then she 
 looked at him and smiled. " Tell me all the San Felice said," 
 she replied. " At any rate," she added, " I am grateful to her 
 for having given you good advice, though I shall always think 
 that you might have done without it." 
 
 Ugo took her in his arms suddenly, and kissed her. " You 
 cannot reproach me more than I reproach myself!" he said 
 tenderly. "As to Donna Vittoria," he continued, "she knows 
 nothing ; because, as I told you, she refused to know. She, too, 
 reproached me, Cristina, for not at once confiding in you. She 
 said that it was an evil nature which did not return confidence for 
 confidence, and that it was my duty to show you I trusted you 
 implicitly." 
 
 " So she did not read the letter ? " said Cristina. 
 
 " No. Neither would she hear its contents. I have told you 
 so already. But she did more than reproach me for not showing 
 you the letter. She made me understand that I have been a 
 selfish husband to you." 
 
 Cristina looked at him with genuine surprise. 
 
 " Selfish ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Yes ; in keeping you here at Viterbo. She told me that I 
 ought to take you to Rome next winter, and allow you to see mor?
 
 TEMPTATION 187 
 
 of the world. I see now that she is right. Donna Vittoria is a 
 very sensible woman, Cristina." 
 
 " Altro ! " observed Countess Vitali briefly, with an enigmatic 
 smile. 
 
 " Not many women would have abstained from gratifying their 
 curiosity by refusing to know the contents of that letter," pursued 
 Ugo. " I told her so," he added. 
 
 " And what did she say ? " 
 
 " She told me that I did not know enough about women to be 
 a judge of them." 
 
 " I should think that was true/' remarked Cristina quietly, and 
 she smiled again. 
 
 Ugo Vitali laughed. A great weight had been lifted from his 
 mind. Donna Vittoria had been right, and he was glad he had 
 taken her advice. He was glad, too, that he had told Cristina 
 he had sought that advice. Her anger at learning that he had 
 confided in another woman what he had hesitated to confide to 
 her was surely a proof that, after all, she cared for him. He 
 almost forgot his own indignation at the way in which this anger 
 had found its expression, and his wife's sudden lapse into a want 
 of refinement in voice and manner that had startled him and 
 jarred upon all his nature. The indifference which Cristina had 
 displayed to the letter had completely set at rest all his suspicions 
 that his anonymous correspondent might be telling the truth, and 
 this in a manner which probably no amount of angry denial would 
 have done. He found himself hoping that a reversion to their 
 former life together, while Cristina had apparently been happier 
 and more contented, would date from that afternoon. How right 
 Donna Vittoria had been to urge him to confide in his wife and in 
 his wife only 1 An indiscreet, or a mischievous adviser might 
 have caused a life-long bitterness and mistrust to arise between 
 them. 
 
 "We understand one another better now, Cristina mia," he 
 said gently, "do we not? and you will see that in the future I 
 shall not be so selfish. We will go to Rome after Christmas, 
 and you shall not always be shut up here at Viterbo with nobody 
 more interesting than Corti and Malvezzi to talk to. No doubt
 
 188 TEMPTATION 
 
 the Duchessa di San Felice will help us in making our appearance 
 in the Roman world. She is going to spend most of next spring 
 at Palazzo San Felice she tells me." 
 
 Cristina looked at him curiously. "That," she observed 
 quietly, "is a very fortunate coincidence. I thought the San 
 Felice scarcely ever spent more than a month in Rome during 
 the season." 
 
 " It is certainly a fortunate coincidence for us," agreed Ugo. 
 " You hke the prospect of a season in Rome ? " he added, smiling 
 at her. 
 
 " But of course ! One vegetates here — I have always told you 
 so ! All the same, Ugo, I do not see how you can be away from 
 the land for so long, unless you have a fatiore to look after things 
 in your absence." 
 
 "Oh, we will arrange all that," replied Count Vitali 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " After all," he continued, " Rome is not so far away. I can 
 go backwards and forwards very easily, when you are settled in 
 some apartment. It will be better to take an apartment than to 
 live in an hotel — the hotels are full of foreigners." 
 
 " Yes," said Cristina absently, and taking up a little paper fan 
 she had placed between the leaves of her book she began to fan 
 herself. 
 
 "You are tired," said Ugo, "and I will leave you to rest until 
 five o'clock. I suppose Fabrizio has gone to his room. He 
 really means to leave us to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes ; his mother insists on his returning. There are some 
 papers to be signed." 
 
 Ugo nodded. " He must do as he likes," he said carelessly. 
 " Addio, Cristina, riposati bene ! " and stooping down he kissed 
 her. " I think I shall go out again," he continued ; " there are 
 one or two things I want to look at on the farm. One of the 
 horses is ill, and the veterinary should have come this morning, 
 so I must hear his report. By the bye," he added, "I had 
 forgotten all about that infernal letter ! You have it, Cristina, 
 have you not ? Give it to me and I will tear it up, and we will 
 never think about it again."
 
 TEMPTATION 189 
 
 Cristina's hand closed over the already crumpled paper. 
 " No," she said ; " I will keep it — as a souvenir ! " 
 
 Ugo shrugged his shoulders. " As you please, carissima," he 
 said; "but if I were you, I should tear it up." 
 
 Cristina looked after him as the door closed upon his retreating 
 figure. 
 
 " Che sciocco ! " she muttered to herself. ** Besides," she 
 added, as if in response to some afterthought, " it is too late — 
 much too late ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 "C^OR some time after her husband had left her Countess Vital! 
 -*■ remained in her room fully occupied with her own thoughts. 
 Only once, in the course of their recent discussion — a discussion 
 which had left Ugo Vitali under the happy impression that it was 
 to lead to the re-establishment of a more satisfactory state of 
 things between himself and his wife — had she allowed the resent- 
 ment she felt in her heart to come to the surface, and she had 
 been instantly conscious that she had committed a tactical error 
 in doing so. Until now she had never believed in her own 
 theory that Ugo would have married the Duchessa di San Felice 
 had the duchessa thought it worth her while to accept him as a 
 husband instead of as a lover. It was a fiction which she knew 
 to be a fiction ; and at first she had used it in order further to 
 excite Fabrizio's interest in her and his compassion for her lot. 
 Latterly, she had almost succeeded in persuading herself that her 
 fiction was true. The reason of this semi-persuasion was, of 
 course, clear enough, had she had either the inclination or the 
 power to analyse it. Her growing passion, however, for the man 
 whose scruples she had determined to conquer and who, she had 
 resolved, should become her lover had gradually made her more 
 than ever anxious not only that Fabrizio should believe that she 
 was compelled by force of circumstances to pretend ignorance ot 
 her husband's unbroken relations with another woman, but also 
 that she herself should beUeve in the existence of those relations. 
 Hitherto, her grievance against Ugo in this respect had been a 
 purely imaginary grievance, which she had felt obliged to foster 
 by every means in her power in order to render it plausible to 
 herself and convincing to her lover. She had invented the story 
 of the anonymous letter she was by way of having received; 
 knowing that, as Fabrizio had at once told her, such communica- 
 tions were favourite methods with her compatriots of making
 
 TEMPTATION 191 
 
 mischief, or of conveying information for which the writers would 
 not care to be held responsible. For a few moments that after- 
 noon Cristina had felt a very unpleasant alarm lest her husband's 
 suspicions might be immediately directed towards his cousin. 
 She had seen at once, however, that this was not the case, and 
 she had rapidly come to the conclusion that to allay Ugo's 
 misgivings she had only to display a contemptuous indifference to 
 the suggestions contained in the letter he had received. The 
 fact that such a letter should have been sent to her husband did 
 not greatly trouble her. There were, without doubt, various 
 friends and acquaintances in Viterbo who were exercised in their 
 minds as to Fabrizio's prolonged stay at Palazzo Vitali, and also 
 as to the fact of his being constantly seen walking or driving 
 alone with her while Count Vitali was engaged elsewhere. Such 
 persons, she had reflected, could only tell Ugo what he already 
 knew and approved of. Of the conversations which she and 
 Fabrizio had had, and especially of such episodes as had occurred 
 on the day of the hailstorm and in the gardens that same 
 evening, nobody could tell him anything. The letter, as Ugo 
 had said, was in all probability the attempt of some impudent 
 busybody to make mischief; and it was fortunate that Ugo had 
 seemed quite disposed to accept this explanation of it, when once 
 he had seen that she was not disturbed by its allegations 
 regarding herself. 
 
 But when Ugo had proceeded to tell her that he had taken the 
 letter to the Duchessa di San Felice Cristina had felt that here, 
 indeed, was a genuine grievance, and, moreover, an additional 
 proof of the intimacy which she had wished to convince Fabrizio, 
 and subsequently to convince herself, existed between the two. 
 She forgot, or she did not choose to remember, that it was she 
 who had driven her husband to seek counsel of another, and not 
 counsel only, but also sympathy. She was determined to dis- 
 believe both in the honesty of Ugo's expressions of self-reproach 
 for having allowed himself to confide more readily in another 
 woman than in herself and in the disinterestedness of the 
 duchessa's advice. 
 
 She must see Fabrizio, she said to herself, without delay, and
 
 192 TEMPTATION 
 
 acquaint him with this fresh proof that Ugo had deceived him in 
 his professions of affection for her ; that these professions had 
 been merely, as she had more than once hinted to her lover, as 
 so much dust thrown in his eyes in order to conceal the fact 
 that his relations with the San Felice had not been interrupted, 
 nay, had been rendered more easy of maintenance, by his 
 marriage. Fortunately Ugo had gone out again, and she would 
 have an opportunity of seeing Fabrizio alone; an opportunity 
 which she might not again have, as Ugo would naturally make a 
 point of not absenting himself on the eve of his cousin's departure- 
 It was lucky, Cristina thought to herself, that one of the farm 
 horses had been taken ill, for Ugo would probably be detained 
 all the longer. Indeed, the whole situation was fortunate, if she 
 could succeed in making Fabrizio see it in the light in which she 
 intended he should see it. She had full confidence in her 
 powers of simulation. They had not failed her that afternoon 
 with her husband, and there was no reason to suppose that 
 they would do so with her lover. It was certainly strange, she 
 thought, that she should have pretended to be the recipient of 
 an anonymous letter in order to appeal more forcibly to Fabrizio's 
 feelings, and that now there had appeared a real letter which, 
 though it reflected on her own conduct, could be used materially 
 to strengthen her hold over him. The position was one full of 
 possibilities for misrepresentation, and intrigue of the kind which 
 had always had for her a certain fascination, and in which years 
 ago she had exercised her powers when she had only the nuns 
 of the Assumptionist convent at Perugia upon whom she could 
 practise. 
 
 Presently Cristina passed from the boudoir into her bedroom 
 adjoining it, and, after giving a few touches to her toilette, went 
 through the cardinal's apartments to the billiard-room where she 
 thought that she might find Fabrizio. He was not there, how- 
 ever; and, after considering for a moment or two Countess 
 Vitali decided to retrace her steps to the gallery, through which 
 Fabrizio would have to pass when returning from his room whither 
 he had probably retired when Ugo left him. Walking the length 
 of the gallery ?he paused almost mechanically in front of Donna
 
 TEMPTATION 193 
 
 Giulia's portrait. How many minutes might have elapsed while 
 she remained engrossed in her thoughts Cristina could hardly 
 have told, when the noise of a door a few paces from her being 
 opened roused her, and she turned round quickly to find Fabrizio 
 entering the room. He gave a slight start as he saw her white- 
 clad form standing immediately beneath the picture in the semi- 
 obscurity of the darkened gallery. 
 
 " I have been looking for you," she said hurriedly. ** I 
 thought you might be in the billiard-room. I have mucli to tell 
 you." 
 
 Fabrizio glanced at her quickly. " What has happened ? " he 
 asked nervously. 
 
 "A great deal has happened," returned Countess Vitali 
 laconically. " I have been insulted — insulted, Fabrizio ! " she 
 added, speaking almost beneath her breath. 
 
 Fabrizio made a rapid step towards her. " Insulted," he 
 repeated; "Ugo?" 
 
 "Sicuro — Ugo! He has gone out — to the farm. Ahorse is 
 ill. He thinks more of his beasts than he does of his wife." 
 
 "Cristina!" exclaimed Fabrizio. "What in the world do you 
 mean ? Ugo left me to go to you. He was full of a new idea 
 that seems to have taken possession of him, an idea which, I 
 confess, surprises me. He told me " 
 
 "Yes?" interrupted Countess Vitali eagerly. "What did he 
 tell you ? " 
 
 " That he meant to take an apartment in Rome next winter, in 
 order that you should pass the season there. He reproached 
 himself for having — oh, well, for having thought only about his 
 own interests in life and not about yours. I never heard Ugo 
 talk in that way before, and, as I say, it surprised me. What in 
 the world has happened, Cristina? for certainly something must 
 have happened, and I do not understand anything at all ! " 
 
 Cristina laughed harshly. " Of course you do not understand ! 
 Ugo does not intend that you should. He thinks that /do not 
 understand — but I am not an imbecile — I ! " 
 
 Fabrizio stared at her. " If you would explain — " he began. 
 
 " Wait ! " interrupted Cristina. " Ugo said nothing to you, I
 
 194 TEMPTATION 
 
 suppose, about a letter he had received? another anonymous 
 letter, which, this time, I shall be careful not to destroy." 
 
 For the first time Fabrizio noticed that she held a piece of 
 paper in her hand. " A letter ? " he re-echoed, and his voice had 
 a tone in it of apprehension and dismay. " No ; he alluded to 
 nothing of the kind." 
 
 " All the same, he has received a letter, warning him to watch 
 my movements — 'for the sake of the honour of Casa Vitali!'" 
 returned Countess Vitali. 
 
 " Ci siamo ! " exclaimed Fabrizio bitterly. " But," he added, 
 as though a fresh thought had just struck him, "I do not 
 understand — Ugo has just been talking quite confidentially to 
 me^ not as he would talk had he any suspicion " 
 
 Cristina smiled sarcastically. " But do you not see that it is a 
 comedy which is being played ? " she asked. " Sicuro ! Ugo did 
 not mention the letter to you — but he took it to the San Felice 
 before showing it to me ! He does not hesitate to insult me by 
 confiding in his mistress rather than in his wife, and by acting on 
 the Duchessa di San Felice's suggestions. And he thinks that I 
 am such an imbecile as not to understand ! " 
 
 " But this sudden determination to take you to Rome," 
 said Fabrizio. " Ugo told me that, though he hated the pros- 
 pect of going to a town for so long, he was doing it for your 
 sake." 
 
 Cristina looked at him almost contemptuously. "You are 
 very ingenuous, Fabrizio mio," she said drily, " or you are very 
 dense. The San Felice, also, will spend the winter in Rome. 
 You will see." 
 
 *' Diavolo ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " So it is for that " 
 
 " Of course it is for that ! " interrupted Countess Vitali. 
 
 Fabrizio shrugged his shoulders. " All the better for us," 
 he observed. " They can suit their own convenience, and we — 
 we can suit ours, Cristina. What have I always told you? 
 in Rome it will be easier to make opportunities for being 
 together ; whereas here, in Palazzo Vitali, the risk is too great — 
 even if it were possible for me to remain here indefinitely." 
 
 " But you do not see — can you not understand?" said Cristina
 
 TEMPTATION 195 
 
 suddenly, in a low voice. *' You did not believe me when I first 
 hinted to you that there was something more than an old friend- 
 ship between Ugo and the San Felice," she added quickly. " But 
 now — what further proof can you need of what I have had to en- 
 dure? Ugo has never trusted me. It is to the San Felice 
 he goes for advice, even in matters concerning his own wife — his 
 own honour, as this letter pretends to say ! Is that not an insult ? 
 But, after all, it is only one of many that I have had to pretend 
 not to notice." 
 
 She spoke in an agitated whisper, and Fabrizio took her hands 
 in his and kissed them. "Do they matter now — those insults?" 
 he asked tenderly. " Have you not got me, Cristina ? If Ugo 
 chooses to be unfaithful to you, you have surely the right to 
 protect yourself, and to live your own life ! " 
 
 Cristina shook her head. " A woman who has been married 
 for the reason for which I was married has no life of her own," 
 she said bitterly. 
 
 "For the reason for which you were married?" repeated 
 Fabrizio. 
 
 "Do you not know the reason?" returned Countess Vitali, and 
 her eyes flashed angrily. " If you do not know it," she continued, 
 "my husband and the San Felice know it — especially the San 
 Felice ! You had better ask her." 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali stamped his foot impatiently. " Why do we 
 live in a priest-ridden country ?" he exclaimed, "under a govern- 
 ment afraid of those hypocrites of the sacristy ? In any civilised 
 country — in France, in England — anywhere — you could free your- 
 self — we could free ourselves — per dir' meglio ! But here in 
 Italy we are still bound, not by any belief in what the priests tell 
 us — we have got rid of all that — but by fear of the Church as a 
 political power. When Italy is free, and we have a law of divorce 
 compelling the priests to marry divorced persons if called upon to 
 do so — " He turned abruptly away from her and walked a few 
 steps across the gallery. 
 
 "But in the meantime," said Countess Vitali, "the priests 
 have their own way, amico mio. There is no mode of escape 
 from the bonds of a marriage such as mine, excepting one.
 
 196 TEMPTATION 
 
 According to your friends the priests, death — or the Pope — is the 
 only loosener of the bond." 
 
 Fabrizio's back was turned towards her and he did not reply. 
 Suddenly he looked round sharply. "Why do you laugh, 
 Cristina ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 Countess Vitali stared at him. " I ? " she replied. " I did 
 not laugh ! far from it. What do you mean, Fabrizio " ? 
 
 Again he did not answer her. His face, always pale, became 
 a shade paler. " Are you sure you did not laugh ? " he asked 
 presently. 
 
 " Of course I am sure ! are you mad, caro mio ? " 
 
 " I don't know," muttered Fabrizio. " I certainly thought I 
 heard you laugh — either you, or — " and he glanced at Donna 
 Giulia's portrait above them. 
 
 Countess Vitali followed his gaze, and then she looked at him 
 again inquiringly. " We are alone," she said, with a slight smile, 
 " so, unless it was your ancestress. Donna Giulia, who laughed, I 
 think your nerves must be out of order again. After all, perhaps 
 Donna Giulia is amused," she added mockingly. " It would be 
 natural that she should be so, always supposing that her spirit 
 still exists ! " 
 
 " Sciocchezze ! " exclaimed Fabrizio irritably. "You are 
 talking nonsense, Cristina ! My ears deceived me, of course — 
 as they have done before. What were you saying? I forget. 
 Ah, that the priests say death, or the Pope, alone can break the 
 bonds of matrimony. It is very easy for them to say it, since they 
 have taken good care to exempt themselves from the bonds they 
 have imposed on others ! " 
 
 " Exactly — death, or the Pope," returned Cristina slowly. 
 "In the present case," she added, "we may leave the Pope's 
 intervention as being scarcely likely to occur ! " 
 
 " As little likely to occur as the other," observed Fabrizio. 
 
 " The other is bound to occur some day." 
 
 " Si capisce ! but it will probably occur too late in the day to 
 be of any advantage," Fabrizio replied, with a slight laugh. 
 
 Countess Vitali glanced at him, with a rapid, searching glance. 
 " One never knows," she said indifferently. " The unexpected
 
 TEMPTATION 197 
 
 sometimes happens. For instance, I might have been killed by 
 the lightning the other day. If I had, Ugo would have been free 
 to marry the San Felice ! " 
 
 " Per caritk ! " ejaculated Fabrizio. " I wish you would not 
 say such things, Cristina ! I was not thinking of Ugo being freed 
 — but of your own freedom." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed Countess Vitali, " but my freedom is not — " 
 and she paused abruptly. 
 
 "Is not what?" 
 
 " Is not necessary to you," returned Cristina, in a low voice. 
 " If I were free, you would not want me. Men are like that." 
 
 Fabrizio gave a gesture of dissent. " I shall always want you," 
 he said quickly. 
 
 "And," proceeded Cristina, "if I were free, you would be 
 Count Vitali, and in Ugo's place." 
 
 Fabrizio drew closer to her. " I should be Count Vitali — yes," 
 he said; "but whether I should be in Ugo's place would depend 
 upon you ! " 
 
 Cristina's eyes looked into his own. " Cristina ! " he said 
 hurriedly, " do not put thoughts — bad thoughts — into my 
 head ! " and he passed his hands across his eyes as though to shut 
 out his gaze. 
 
 "You would want to fill Ugo's place — wholly?" she asked 
 slowly; "you would want me — always?" 
 
 " Non lo sai ? " The question seemed as it were to be wrenched 
 from him by a physical force which possessed itself of his will and 
 dominated it. Mechanically he stretched out his hands towards 
 a table, as if to steady himself by grasping something material. 
 Presently the blood seemed to cease beating upon his brain, and 
 he was conscious of a sensation as though a part of his personality 
 were returning to him and re-asserting itself. " I wish no harm 
 to happen to Ugo," he exclaimed almost roughly. 
 
 Cristina smiled quietly. "No harm, Fabrizio mio, of course 
 not ! " she said. " I was merely wondering what would happen if 
 — if you were suddenly to find yourself in Ugo's place — as his 
 legal heir. That is not assuming you wish any harm to befall him. 
 Perhaps," she continued, after a pause, " I should not have told
 
 198 TEMPTATION 
 
 you about this letter. But you must remember that you were 
 sceptical as to Ugo's relations with the San Felice being anything 
 more than friendly. Now you can scarcely be sceptical any 
 longer. You see for yourself that Ugo consults her in everything, 
 even in the most private matters. Can you wonder if I regard 
 his having taken this letter to the Duchessa di San Felice as a 
 cruel insult to me? At least, I should regard it as a cruel insult, 
 did I believe that the letter was genuine." 
 
 Ugo looked at her with a puzzled air. " How, genuine ? " he 
 asked. " What do you mean, Cristina ? " 
 
 Countess Vitali laughed a little harshly. " They are playing a 
 comedy — those two ! " she said. " The whole affair is nothing 
 but a scene which has been already rehearsed between them. 
 This letter — it was not necessary to take it to the San Felice, 
 since she knew its contents already ! Do you not understand, 
 Fabrizio ? " 
 
 " Niente affatto ! " returned Fabrizio frankly. " I understand 
 nothing." 
 
 Cristina tapped her foot impatiently on the floor. "So it 
 would seem ! " she replied. " Nevertheless, the whole thing is 
 very simple. This display of confidence in me on Ugo's part was 
 pre-arranged with the San Felice. The letter was composed by 
 them," 
 
 Fabrizio spread out his hands despairingly. " I cannot follow 
 you," he said. " I thought it was the want of confidence in you 
 displayed by Ugo that made his action so insulting " 
 
 " Listen," interrupted Cristina, and she spoke low and rapidly, 
 "and you will understand better! Ugo brought me this letter 
 with many protestations that it was his complete confidence in me 
 which made him do so. He reproached himself for having failed 
 to have this confidence in me in the first instance, and explained 
 how the San Felice had told him that he was wrong — and that he 
 should bring the letter to me. Bene ! had Ugo stopped there, I 
 might have believed him. I might have thought, as it was in- 
 tended I should think, that the Duchessa di San FeUce was indeed 
 a true and disinterested friend both to my husband and to me. 
 Unluckily, Ugo made a uiistake— two mistakes, and both were
 
 TEMPTATION 199 
 
 clumsy. In the first place he went out of his way to assure me 
 that, though he had wished the San FaUce to read this letter, she 
 had refused to do so, and had refused even to know its contents. 
 E troppo forte ! What woman would refuse to read an anony- 
 mous letter about another woman — especially if it referred to her 
 friend's wife? In the next place, after telling me that he had 
 been selfish in obliging me always to lead this life at Viterbo and 
 that he meant to take me to Rome, he accidentally mentioned 
 that the San Felice, also, intended to spend next winter in Rome — 
 and the San Felice, as everybody knows, has never spent a season 
 in Rome since her husband's death. Is it so difficult to under- 
 stand that two and two make four ? " 
 
 " It is incredible ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Had it been any- 
 body else, and not Ugo." 
 
 Cristina looked at him with a slight smile. "Caro Fabrizio," 
 she observed quietly, "you have always been deceived by 
 Ugo's apparent frankness. It is natural. Until six weeks ago, 
 you scarcely knew him, and you do not know him much better 
 even now. But I, who am married to him, know him better 
 than you can do ! Some people cultivate a simple manner. It 
 is a useful thing to cultivate, when one wishes to throw dust in 
 Other people's eyes." 
 
 "Then you believe the whole thing to be a pre-arranged 
 affair between Ugo and the San Felice," said Fabrizio; "and 
 that Ugo has no suspicions of — of us ? This letter, in short, 
 is merely part of the comedy, as you call it ! " 
 
 " Ah — finalmente ci siamo ! " exclaimed Countess Vitali. " It 
 is very simple. Ugo married me, because the San Felice did 
 not find it convenient to marry Ugo. Those things happen 
 occasionally, is it not true ? " 
 
 " Povera la mia Cristina ! " murmured Fabrizio. 
 
 She drew herself gently away from him. " It does not matter 
 — now," she said softly. "Before you came into my life, 
 Fabrizio, I suffered — yes ! but now " 
 
 " And I must leave you to-morrow, knowing all that I know ! " 
 Fabrizio exclaimed. 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. " Ci vuole pazienza!" she
 
 200 TEMPTATION 
 
 replied. "You will return here in a few weeks, and we must 
 both of us be prudent, Fabrizio mio, very prudent, for your sake 
 as well as for mine. Ugo has no suspicions, of that I am certain. 
 He thinks only of so arranging matters as to be able to follow 
 the San Felice to Rome. Ebbene, so much the better for us ! 
 But, in the meantime, we must be prudent, I tell you, and you 
 must be patient. Tout vient a qui sait attendre. Remember 
 your position with regard to Ugo. That position must not 
 be destroyed, you understand? We must wait, amico mio. 
 When you return — or in Rome — perhaps we shall be freer. 
 And in the meantime you will be guided by me. Perhaps some 
 day you will see that I have had your true interests at heart in 
 not allowing our love to interfere with those interests — Zitto, 
 per caritk ! " she broke off abruptly, and moved quickly away 
 from him down the gallery. 
 
 " Cristina — wait ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Why do you go ? 
 there is nobody " 
 
 "I heard footsteps in the next room," returned Countess 
 Vitali hurriedly. " It is probably Taddeo coming to open the 
 windows now the sun is gone from the courtyard. Let us go 
 to the terrace, Fabrizio, to our usual place. Ugo will soon be 
 coming back from the farm, and it will be better that he should 
 find us talking together as if nothing had happened. Of course 
 you will be careful not to let him suspect that I have told you 
 anything concerning this letter," and she thrust the paper into 
 the body of her dress as she spoke. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali followed her in silence. He told himself that 
 Cristina was right; that he must be patient and wait. It was 
 difficult to believe that his cousin's simple, straightforward 
 manner was nothing more than a manner ; that Ugo's confidential 
 conversations with him, in which he had figured as an aff'ectionate 
 husband, had been merely intended to deceive him as to the 
 real state of his domestic affairs. Had Ugo been one of his 
 Roman friends, he would not have been in the least surprised, 
 and certainly not in the least scandalised, that he had a mistress 
 as well as a wife. But from the first there had been something 
 in his cousin's careless, unsuspicious way of looking at life in
 
 TEMPTATION 201 
 
 general that had appealed to Fabrizio's respect, and, perhaps 
 unconsciously, also caused him some envy, even while he had 
 sometimes laughed at him in his mind for being a canipagnuolo. 
 The feeling that he was trading upon this simplicity, and de- 
 ceiving it, had not been one of the least clamorous among the 
 scruples of conscience which Fabrizio had experienced of late, 
 and it came upon him as something of a shock to discover that 
 his respect had been misplaced and his scruples unnecessary.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "TJ^ABRIZIO VITALI had hoped that some fortunate chance 
 -^ would have allowed him to be once more alone with Cristina 
 in the course of the evening preceding his departure. It was with 
 decided regret, therefore that he learned from Ugo, who re- 
 turned from the farm shortly after he and Countess Vitali had 
 settled themselves in their accustomed seats at the end of the 
 terrace, that the ailing horse was fairly on the road to recovery. 
 
 During the whole of the evening Count Vitali appeared to be 
 in excellent spirits, and in no wise disposed to be left out of 
 the conversation, or, as was so often the case, to fall asleep 
 after dinner. It was natural that Ugo Vitali should discourse 
 of the sudden illness of one of his best horses ; and somewhat 
 to Fabrizio's surprise, as well as to his annoyance, Cristina 
 appeared to take unusual interest in the symptoms of an animal 
 which had been tactless enough to get better instead of worse, 
 thereby destroying his hopes that Ugo would have paid another 
 prolonged visit to the farm that evening. 
 
 " Imagine," Ugo observed, after describing the treatment for 
 an internal inflammation to which the offending horse had been 
 subject, " the veterinary has ordered two injections of morphia — 
 one every six hours — as though the animal were a Christian. 
 They say injections of morphia are the fashion now, is it not so, 
 Fabrizio ? " 
 
 Countess Vitali laughed. " Let us hope the horse will not 
 develop a craving for the drug," she said. 
 
 " That is what I said to the veterinary," returned Ugo. " Of 
 course," he added, the doses are very small — scarcely larger than 
 would be given to a man. I do not think they can make any 
 mistake at the farm and inject too large a dose — otherwise the 
 horse would be poisoned." 
 
 Cristina's face showed an increased interest in the subject.
 
 TEMPTATION 203 
 
 •* Is it true that so many people use morphia ? " she asked of 
 Fabrizio, " I mean, people of the world." 
 
 "Altro!" he replied, with a shrug of the shoulders; "the 
 habit becomes more common every day — at least, so the doctors 
 declare. Your sex, especially, is addicted to it, Cristina. A 
 syringe and phial of morfina are a part of the outfit of many 
 fashionable ladies." 
 
 "And why do they not occasionally give themselves an over- 
 dose by accident ? " asked Countess Yitali. 
 
 " Oh," replied Fabrizio, " as to tliat, the doses are regu- 
 lated. Each fiale contains from two to five centigrammes, I 
 believe." 
 
 Ugo laughed. " Fabrizio seems to know all about it," he 
 observed. 
 
 " By a combination," Fabrizio answered. " The taking of 
 drugs is not one of my vices," he added ; " but it so happens 
 that I have had to study the subject — from the lawyer's point of 
 view. There was a famous trial some two years ago — a case of 
 suicide or murder ; wliich of the two it really was the jury were 
 unable to decide unanimously — and in the course of that trial I 
 learned many particulars concerning the morfina from the 
 doctor's evidence." 
 
 *' But you were not engaged in it professionally — as one of the 
 lawyers, I mean ? " asked Count Vitali. 
 
 "Professionally— no," returned Fabrizio; "but I was always 
 present in the Court — as a student, you know." 
 
 " What would be a fatal dose to a man ? " inquired Ugo. 
 
 "Do you mean by injection, or taken by the mouth?" 
 
 " Diamine ! either way you please. It would be the same 
 thing in the end, I suppose." 
 
 Fabrizio hesitated. " I think not," he replied. " It would 
 be impossible to inject a dose which would prove fatal at one 
 time, with the syringe ordinarily in use. And if swallowed, 
 such a quantity would produce violent sickness, and very likely 
 defeat its own ends — supposing those ends to be murder, or 
 suicide." 
 
 " But that is interesting —very interesting ! " observed Cristina,
 
 204 TEMPTATION 
 
 stopping in her task of peeling a peach and looking at him. 
 " How many things you know, Fabrizio," she added. " Tell us 
 some more about the morfina." 
 
 "Yes," said Ugo, "tell us how you would set to work to 
 murder somebody, or to murder yourself with morphia. As 
 Cristina says, it is very interesting. All the same, I hope 
 Giovanni will not murder my horse ! " 
 
 " The morfina is cumulative," explained Fabrizio. " I mean, 
 cumulative in its action." Nothing pleased Fabrizio Vitali 
 better than to feel that he was being interesting, and he would 
 talk on any topic provided his vanity were flattered by seeing 
 that he was listened to with attention. 
 
 " The action is cumulative," he repeated, a little pompously. 
 "That being so," he continued, "repeated injections of, we 
 will say, five centigrammes of morfina until some twenty 
 centigrammes had passed into the blood, would have a fatal 
 result." 
 
 " Then you would prefer to inject the poison, rather than 
 administer it by the mouth ? " asked Ugo. 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; if my object was to murder someone," answered 
 Fabrizio smiling. " Do you remember," he added, " that 
 diabolical attempt to murder a man by challenging him to a 
 friendly wrestling bout, during the progress of which his arm was 
 to be injected with curare, by means of a tiny syringe his 
 antagonist kept concealed about his person ? Well, the attempt 
 did not succeed, because no good opportunity presented itself of 
 using the syringe unobserved. But a scratch would have meant 
 death in a few hours — and that death would have probably been 
 attributed to virulent blood poisoning produced by some infected 
 instrument, or by the bite of some insect that had been feeding 
 on putrid matter. Sicuro — to administer poison by injection is 
 much the more practical method — especially in these days when 
 anybody can walk into a chemist's shop and provide himself with 
 all the appliances for injecting morfina into his own or his 
 enemy's veins ! " 
 
 " But without a doctor's order no chemist may sell poison to 
 a customer," objected Ugo.
 
 TEMPTATION 205 
 
 " No chemist may sell certain poisons without a doctor's order 
 — that is true," replied Fabrizio ; '* but unfortunately chemists 
 are often careless about the sale of morfina. Strychnine, curare, 
 and other poisons are of course unobtainable, but you — I — 
 anybody can often buy from a chemist our apparatus for the 
 injection of morfina, our pastilles of corrosive sublimate also, if 
 we prefer that poison, without many questions being asked." 
 
 Countess Vitali half filled her glass from a flask of red wine 
 which stood near her on the table. The wine remained untasted, 
 however, and her eyes were fixed on Fabrizio. 
 
 "And the symptoms?" she asked him suddenly. "What 
 would the symptoms be, in the case of a fatal dose of — well, of 
 morfina, we will say — since you seem to be more at home with 
 the morfina than with the other drugs you name ? " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed. " I am not a doctor, ben^ inteso" he replied. 
 "But, in the case of a fatal dose of morfina administered by 
 injection, I have been told by doctors that the symptoms would 
 closely resemble those of some acute intestinal disorder, and that 
 these would be succeeded by unconsciousness — and the uncon- 
 sciousness by — " and he shrugged his shoulders significantly. 
 
 "In fact," remarked Ugo Vitali laughing, "the symptoms — 
 always excepting the unconsciousness, which I trust will not occur ! 
 — would more or less resemble those of my horse, who has eaten 
 too much young grass and has a colic." 
 
 " I am not a doctor," repeated Fabrizio, " so I am afraid I can- 
 not answer your questions scientifically. It has always seemed 
 to me an odd thing that greater restrictions have not been 
 placed on the sale of these hypodermic syringes and phials of 
 morfina. What is to prevent a person from providing himself 
 with a number of these phials for administration to others, or to 
 himself? Fortunately " 
 
 A sound of glass breaking interrupted him. With a sudden 
 movement of her arm Cristina had accidentally overturned her 
 wine glass. Rolling off the table it fell with a crash and shivered 
 into little pieces on the marble floor of the dining-room, while 
 the red wine spread with a blood-like stain over the white table- 
 cloth.
 
 206 TEMPTATION 
 
 " How clumsy of me ! " she exclaimed. " I forgot that I had 
 just filled my glass. Luckily the wine has all fallen on the 
 cloth, and not on my dress. Yes, Fabrizio, what where you 
 going to say ? " 
 
 " I was going to say that, fortunately, there are such things 
 as aiitopsie to be reckoned with ; otherwise any one might poison 
 his neighbour more or less with impunity, as was the case in old 
 days." 
 
 *• Ah ! " exclaimed Countess Vitali, " that is true. Donna 
 Giulia, for example, had not to think about such inconveniences 
 as autopsie." 
 
 Fabrizio raised his eyebrows a little impatiently. "Always 
 Donna Giulia ! " he thought to himself. Donna Giulia had 
 not entered his mind while he had been talking, and the thought 
 of her seemed at that moment to be more distasteful than 
 usual to him. He made no reply to Countess Vitali's observa- 
 tion, and Cristina seemed indisposed to pursue the subject. 
 She appeared to be absorbed in her own thoughts, and her gaze 
 was fixed abstractedly on the red stain of the wine on the table- 
 cloth in front of her. Presently she rose from her chair, and 
 taking Fabrizio's arm proceeded to leave the dining-room, while 
 Ugo, who was roasting the end of a Verginia cigar in the flame 
 of a candle preparatory to smoking it, lingered behind to complete 
 that necessary process. 
 
 "Perhaps he will read the newspapers," Fabrizio said to her 
 quickly, as they reached the drawing-room ; " and we can go out 
 into the gardens. It is my last evening with you, Cristina ! " 
 
 Cristina shook her head decidedly. " No," she replied. 
 " No, let us be prudent, Fabrizio mio. After all, in a month, six 
 weeks, you will return here — if we are prudent. Be guided by 
 me — and have patience." 
 
 " But — for a few minutes only," pleaded Fabrizio. " To- 
 morrow morning I go," he continued ; " and six weeks is a long 
 time to wait — for what you have promised to give me," he added 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " No ! " repeated Cristina, almost angrily. " Do not be a fool, 
 Fabrizio. Would you risk spoiling everything — our future happi-
 
 TEMPTATION 207 
 
 ness — for the sake of a few minutes' folly ? Why will you 
 not trust me ? As to these few weeks during which we shall be 
 separated — 1 have need of them — to think." 
 
 "To think?" 
 
 " But, yes, to think ! " replied Countess Vitali impatiently ; 
 " to think for you and for myself. Via, Fabrizio," she continued, 
 and the angry note in her voice gave place to a soft, caressing 
 tone. " Do not tempt me to give way — before the time ! Some day 
 you will be grateful to me for having saved you from committing 
 a folly — from ruining your own chances — Basta ! " and, turning 
 away from him quickly, she went to the window as Ugo Vitali, 
 his cigar by this time well alight, entered the drawing-room. 
 
 " Are you going to sit out of doors ? " he asked, as he saw his 
 wife looking out into the gardens. 
 
 " I think not," answered Cristina quietly. " There is no 
 moon, and there is too much air this evening. It will be more 
 comfortable in the house. You will not forget, Ugo, that Fabrizio 
 goes by the eleven o'clock train to Rome ? The carriage must 
 take him to the station." 
 
 '-* And we will accompany him, to wish him buon viaggio," 
 said Ugo. 
 
 " E felice ritorno," supplemented Countess Vitali, with a quick 
 glance at her husband. 
 
 " Sicuro," agreed Ugo ; " for the vintage, that is an understood 
 thing ! " 
 
 A momentary expression of satisfaction passed across Cristina's 
 face. " Always supposing that Fabrizio has nothing more amus- 
 ing to do," she observed, indifferently. "After all, we cannot 
 expect him to leave his occupations or his amusements for the 
 sake of assisting at the gathering of our grapes. That, no doubt, 
 is an interesting spectacle to us, but then we are campagnuoUy 
 
 Although Countess Vitali had assured Fabrizio that her hus- 
 band entertained no suspicions concerning him, she was as yet 
 by no means certain that this was really the case. 
 
 Since Ugo had left the anonymous letter in her hands, she had 
 found moments to read it again and again with scrupulous attention. 
 Notwithstanding her assertions to her lover as to its origin and its
 
 208 TEMPTATION 
 
 scope, she was persuaded in her own mind that the letter had been 
 written with the intention of directing Ugo's suspicion into the 
 right channel ; and that it was certainly not the result of an 
 intrigue on the part of the Duchessa di San Felice whereby she, 
 Cristina, was to be deceived into believing she possessed her 
 husband's full trust and confidence. She was even aware, on 
 thinking the matter over more calmly, that in wishing to make 
 Fabrizio believe the letter to be the handiwork of the duchessa 
 and Ugo she had overstepped the bounds of probability. She 
 had remembered how she had ultimately succeeded in con- 
 vincing Fabrizio that the Duchessa di San Felice had been 
 the author of the imaginary letter whereby she had learned that 
 she had been married merely to enable her husband to carry on 
 an old liaison with greater facility and less risk of scandal ; and, 
 in her anxiety to afford him further proof of the existence of such 
 a liaison, she had forgotten that even a lover's credulity might hesi- 
 tate before accepting her assurance as to the origin of this second 
 anonymous missive. He might argue to himself that neither the 
 duchessa nor Ugo could derive any advantage from taking so 
 unnecessary a step. Cristina was not a little troubled by this 
 reflection. It annoyed her, too, to feel that there should be any 
 flaw in the tissue of misrepresentation she had woven so carefully 
 in order to complete her lover's subjection by affording him 
 plausible reasons for stifling the scruples she had from the first 
 realised that he possessed. 
 
 At the same time Countess Vitali would have given much to 
 know what had really passed between her husband and the 
 Duchessa di San Felice on the subject of the letter. She did not 
 for a moment believe — indeed, she would have been incapable 
 of believing that Ugo had given her a true account of his 
 interview with San Felice. Of course the duchessa had read 
 the letter ; and having read it, of course she would have at once 
 set herself to think who the lover of her friend's wife might be ! 
 Had she, Cristina wondered, suggested Fabrizio as being in all 
 probability that lover ? This was more than likely, since Fabrizio 
 was the obvious person to suggest. But if this suggestion had 
 been made, Countess Vitali had every reason to believe that she
 
 TEMPTATION 209 
 
 had at all events succeeded in, if not altogether banishing Ugo's 
 suspicions, at all events considerably diminishing them ; and the 
 fact that her husband's manner towards his cousin showed no 
 lack of its accustomed cordiality did much towards confirming 
 this belief.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 " T T OW right you were, Donna Vittoria ! " said Ugo Vitali ; 
 
 ^ -^ " but then," he continued, '* you always are right. I 
 have proved that many times." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice laughed. "Am I?" she asked. "I 
 wish I could think so — no, I don't wish anything of the kind !" 
 she added hastily ; " for if I did think so, I should be a very 
 odious person, which I hope I am not ! " 
 
 She and Ugo Vitali were sitting in the shade of a group of 
 magnificent plane trees in the grounds of Villa Falconara. A 
 tea-table, thoroughly English in its equipment of daintily cut 
 bread and butter, scones and cakes, stood beside them. Of 
 recent years the custom of having tea in the afternoons had 
 become fairly frequent among the Italians of her world ; but the 
 Duchessa di San Felice had been enamoured of the practice in 
 the course of her repeated visits to English and Scottish houses 
 during the autumns she had spent in those countries, and had 
 imported it into her own long before it became more or less 
 recognised by her compatriots. 
 
 Ugo Vitali had not again seen the duchessa since he had 
 sought her counsel as to how he should act with regard to the 
 anonymous warning he had received. That, however, was now 
 more than a fortnight ago ; and every day which had passed 
 had made him feel more assured of the wisdom of the advice 
 she had given him, and also of his own wisdom in having asked 
 for it. 
 
 Since Fabrizio's departure everything had gone smoothly at 
 Palazzo Vitali. In countless little instances, trifling, perhaps, in 
 themselves, but none the less eminently satisfactory to Ugo who 
 had been watching anxiously for them, Cristina had appeared to 
 be desirous of showing her husband that she appreciated the 
 confidence he had displayed in her by bringing her the
 
 TEMPTATION 211 
 
 anonymous letter. Every day she seemed to be gradually 
 becoming more like her old self. Her coldness, and her 
 occasional fits of ill-humour had disappeared ; and, if she was 
 sometimes silent and pre-occupied, her manner had no longer 
 that ungracious sullenness which had so often wounded and 
 distressed him. 
 
 As though by a mutual consent which had not needed putting 
 into words, the subject of the anonymous letter had not again 
 been mentioned between them. Whatever vague suspicions Ugo 
 might have entertained as to his cousin Fabrizio, these had been 
 completely set at rest both by Cristina's demeanour and by that 
 of Fabrizio himself. Nothing could have been more natural than 
 that demeanour. Fabrizio had departed, and as the dirty and 
 ill-appointed train, considerably behind its time like the generality 
 of Italian trains, had lumbered slowly out of the Viterbo station, 
 Ugo had repeated his invitation that he should return at the 
 commencement of the vintage. That he had been able so 
 quickly to dismiss from his mind all suspicions concerning his 
 cousin had been a great relief to Count Vitali. It would have 
 been a monstrous and almost an incredible thing had Fabrizio 
 been so treacherous as to repay his confidence in him as a 
 kinsman, and his goodwill towards him as his probable successor, 
 by bringing dishonour upon his house. 
 
 Like the majority of people possesssing a generous nature, 
 Ugo Vitali was always prone to blame himself rather than others. 
 In the present instance he felt that there were ample grounds for 
 self-reproach, and that he had nobody but himself to thank for it 
 if his wife had become discontented with the life he had hitherto 
 obliged her to lead. He felt, too, that his friend Donna 
 Vittoria considered his attitude towards Cristina to have been 
 egotistical, and that she had wished to point out to him his error 
 in not having attempted to put himself, as it were, in Cristina's 
 place and understand her views of life as well as his own. 
 
 Ugo had not the least doubt in his own mind that the improved 
 relations now existing between Cristina and himself were largely 
 due to the fact of his having promised to spend a season in the 
 capital. He assured himself that women must have a certain
 
 212 TEMPTATION 
 
 amount of society, that they must be allowed to feel that they 
 were seeing and being seen by the world, if they were to remain 
 happy and contented at home. Even his model among wives 
 and mothers, the Duchessa di San Felice, notwithstanding the 
 simple and comparatively retired life she had led since her 
 husband's death, was careful to keep herself in constant touch 
 with the world, and made no secret of the pleasure she took in 
 mixing in the society of her own and other countries. 
 
 It was all very well, however, for the Duchessa di San Felice, 
 who both by birth and marriage belonged to the alta nobtlia, 
 and whose fortune was an unusually large one for a woman to 
 possess, to take up the position she had taken up regarding the 
 world. Whenever and wherever she chose to go into that world 
 her name as well as her fortune assured her a cordial welcome. It 
 might, and probably would be otherwise with Count and Countess 
 Vitali, members oithepiccola nobilta diprovincia with only a modest 
 income. There were comparatively few people who would know 
 that Count Vitali represented an ancient and at one time illus- 
 trious family, nor that his blood and his descent were far older 
 than those of the vast majority of those Roman nobles who 
 would in all probabiHty look down upon him. 
 
 When Countess Vitali had told Fabrizio that her husband was 
 in reality very proud, she had for once in a way spoken the 
 truth ; and this particular form of pride, coupled with the sen- 
 sitiveness it invariably begets, had exercised more influence on 
 Ugo Vitali's nature than he was at all aware was the case. It had 
 caused him throughout his life to imitate the tactics of the snail, 
 and to retreat into the shell of his provincialism on the slightest 
 touch to his susceptibilities. This sensitiveness on her husband's 
 part had been a perpetual source of annoyance and disappoint- 
 ment to Countess Vitali. Of plebeian blood herself, she could 
 neither understand nor sympathise with it. It had been as well, 
 perhaps, that she could not understand it, at any rate to the extent 
 of realising that she owed the fact of her being Countess Vitali 
 to those very peculiarities in her husband's nature which, with 
 some justice, she regarded as being both absurd and exasperating. 
 
 It was perhaps strange that Vittoria di San Felice, with all her
 
 TEMPTATION 213 
 
 powers of discernment, should never as yet have fully realised the 
 extent to which this pride and its accompanying sensitiveness had 
 influenced the career of the man she had known from boyhood. 
 She had always known, indeed, that Ugo was proud of his 
 ancient descent, and of the fact that he held lands which had 
 been owned by his forefathers long before Cardinal Vitali had 
 added to the fortunes of the family by becoming a member of so 
 profitable a syndicate as was the College of Cardinals in the 
 Middle Ages. His attachment to this soil, and to his country 
 life had seemed to Vittoria, whose own love for the country and 
 country things was almost a passion, to be natural enough. She 
 had, consequently, sought for no other reason for Ugo's manifest 
 aversion from enlarging his social sphere. Moreover, her own 
 position in the world being so undoubted and so secure, it had 
 never been her custom to limit her choice of her friends and 
 acquaintances to those belonging to one section of society only ; 
 and, therefore, the idea that Ugo Vitali might be influenced by 
 other motives for so resolutely refusing to spend any portion of 
 his time in Rome than disinclination to leave his country 
 occupations had never up to the present occurred to her. 
 
 Ugo had purposely allowed some days to elapse before 
 acquainting the duchessa with what he had every reason to 
 believe were the good results due to his having acted upon her 
 advice. Finding himself, however, that afternoon within a short 
 distance of Villa Falconara, he had been unable to resist the 
 temptation of calling upon her in order to tell her of these 
 results. 
 
 " There is nothing so tiresome as people who are always 
 convinced that their views of life must be the right views," 
 Vittoria di San Felice repeated. 
 
 "But it is true," Ugo insisted. "Whenever I have followed 
 your advice, it has always proved to be right. That is why I 
 came to you, why I should always come to you, if you would allow 
 me to do so." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice poured herself out a cup of tea with some 
 deliberation. "That is precisely what I should not allow you 
 to dOj" she observed presently. " Before you were married,
 
 214 TEMPTATION 
 
 it was a different matter ; but now — " and she paused 
 expressively. 
 
 " But there are many things concerning which Cristina is not 
 capable of giving advice," returned Ugo quickly. " She has not 
 your experience, duchessa, indeed, she has no experience. How 
 could she have any ? " 
 
 " Then you should give her the opportunity of gaining some," 
 replied Vittoria. 
 
 " I know. You told me so before, if you remember. That is 
 why I am going to take her to Rome. On that point, also, I am 
 sure you will prove to be right. She will see the world ; and if 
 she loses some of her illusions concerning it, that will be so 
 much experience gained." 
 
 Vittoria smiled. She wondered whether he was conscious of 
 a slight cynicism, but concluded on reflection that it was quite 
 unlikely. "Why should she lose her illusions?" she asked. 
 "The world will probably make itself very pleasant to her," she 
 added. 
 
 Ugo tapped his brown-leather gaiters with his riding whip. 
 " We cannot compete with your Roman world," he said briefly. 
 "We have no money, and we are not in — what do you 
 call that little red and gold book you have on your writing-table 
 in the casino ? " 
 
 " The Almanach de Gotha, do you mean ? " asked Vittoria di 
 San Felice laughing. "Well, my friend, and what does that 
 matter? You are — yourselves — are you not. Of course Rome 
 has become very vulgar — horribly vulgar ; and every impossible 
 foreigner — American, English — what you will, whom even London 
 is not yet vulgar enough to receive, for, after all, London still 
 likes something beside mere dollars — comes to Rome ; by dint 
 of feeding the Romans an adventurer can go everywhere ; and if 
 she is a woman, and under sixty, probably marries a Roman 
 prince. All the same, there are Romans and Romans you under- 
 stand. We are not all of us vulgarised, even yet, either in our 
 manners or in our blood ! " 
 
 "In Rome it will always be remembered that Cristina was, 
 well, Frezzi's daughter," said Ugo. " Even here, at Viterbo "
 
 TEMPTATION 215 
 
 "Caro Vitali," interrupted Vittoria, "you are altogether too 
 old-fashioned in your ideas ! You are thinking of the Rome of 
 fifty years ago, which you have heard about from your father, 
 probably. Besides," she added, with a smile, " the fact of your 
 wife having been born as she was can be nobody's business but 
 your own ! You did not marry her under the impression that 
 you were marrying a woman with sixteen quarterings — no? 
 Believe me, in these days the absence of money is resented much 
 more deeply than the absence of quarterings. All the same, I 
 do not imagine that you will want to compete with the 
 Americans, and become a species of ciiciiia economica for that 
 section of Roman society that runs about the city in search of 
 free dinners." 
 
 Ugo laughed. " Scarcely ! " he replied. " My cousin Fabrizio 
 has been telling us about that phase of life in Rome." 
 
 " Ah," observed Vittoria di San Felice ; " your cousin. Is he 
 still with you ? " she asked, after a slight pause. 
 
 " No, he left us some days ago ; nearly a fortnight ago, indeed." 
 The duchessa seemed as though she were about to ask another 
 question, but suddenly she checked herself. She would have 
 liked to know if Fabrizio Vitali's departure had been in any way 
 due to the hint she had given Ugo in the course of their last 
 conversation together. 
 
 " It is no affair of mine," she thought, and reproved herself for 
 her curiosity. 
 
 " But he is to return to us for the vintage," proceeded Ugo. 
 This time Vittoria was unable to repress a slight movement of 
 surprise. 
 
 " Your cousin did not strike me as being particularly interested 
 in that kind of thing," she remarked drily. 
 
 "I don't suppose he is," returned Ugo smiling ; "but at any 
 rate, from his point of view, he would miss nothing by being out 
 of Rome in September. I am glad he is coming back to us. 
 He amuses Cristina. Do you know. Donna Vittoria, that until 
 he came to us I had no idea my wife took so much interest 
 in—" 
 
 " In what ? " asked Vittoria abruptly.
 
 216 TEMPTATION 
 
 "Oh, in books and intellectual things generally. You will say 
 that I ought to have known it ; but those things are not much in 
 my line. I have sometimes sat and wondered what in the world 
 she and Fabrizio were talking about ! " Ugo added laughing. 
 
 Vittoria did not reply, but looked at him with a perplexed 
 expression on her face. 
 
 " And so he is coming back to pay you another long visit," 
 she observed, presently, conscious of having nothing more 
 definite which she could permit herself to say. 
 
 "You see," said Ugo, "my cousin Fabrizio is my nearest 
 relative. If anything were to happen to me, he would inherit." 
 
 " My dear Vitali ! " exclaimed Vittoria, almost angrily, " what 
 nonsense are you talking ? You are a strong robust man, not a 
 delicate town-bred — well — " she broke off abruptly. " One does 
 not wish to make comparisons. Besides, who is to say yet that 
 your wife will not have half a dozen children ? " 
 
 Count Vitali shrugged his shoulders. " One never knows 
 what may happen," he said. " At any rate," he added, " Fabrizio 
 is a Vitali. The land would not go away from the name were 
 he to succeed me. It is a good thing that he and Cristina get on 
 well together. Under the circumstances, it might have been 
 quite the reverse. She might have taken a dislike to him as 
 occupying the position a child of her own should have occupied." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at him curiously. " I think you 
 are rather premature," she said, at length ; " but, of course, you 
 must know your own affairs better than I can know them — 
 especially such intimate affairs as the appearance or non-appear- 
 ance of children of your own to come after you ! " she added with 
 a smile. "All the same," she continued, a little hestitatingly, 
 " it would be natural if your wife resented your over-readiness to 
 accept a cousin as your successor. But, apparently, she does 
 not object ! " 
 
 Possibly the Duchessa di San Felice had thrown more meaning 
 into her words than she was aware of, for Ugo glanced at her 
 quickly as though a sudden thought had struck him. 
 
 " I must confess," he said, " that when I showed you that 
 letter I received "
 
 TEMPTATION 217 
 
 Vittoria stopped him with a Httle wave of her hand. " Let 
 us be accurate," she interrupted. "You mean to say, when 
 you wished to show me a letter the contents of which I 
 refused to know." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " returned Ugo. '* You are quite right, 
 duchessa. I do not forget your delicacy on that occasion. I 
 told my wife of it." 
 
 Vittoria started a little. " You told her that you had consulted 
 me ? " she asked. " But — was that necessary, Vitali — or wise ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " returned Ugo, simply. 
 
 "Thank heaven," thought Vittoria, "that I did not read that 
 letter ! " Bene," she continued quietly, " why not ? as you say. 
 You must know your own affairs better than I can know them, 
 as I told you just now. At least," she added ; " you are sure 
 Countess Vitali understands that I did not read the letter, and 
 that I do not know what it contained ? " 
 
 " But of course ! " replied Ugo. " I told her so." 
 
 " And she believed you ? " 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. " Why should she not believe 
 me ? " he asked. " But I was going to tell you. Donna Vittoria, 
 a proposito of my cousin Fabrizio, that, when I received the letter 
 you declined to read, a horrible suspicion came into my mind. 
 I wondered if the writer intended to warn me against Fabrizio. 
 Fortunately, I followed your advice; for, had I not taken the 
 letter at once to my wife, I might have imagined my suspicion to 
 be well founded. As it is " 
 
 " Yes ? " interposed Vittoria, slowly stirring her cup of tea. 
 
 " I saw instantly how ridiculous such an idea was," continued 
 Ugo. " Cristina did not even take the letter seriously. No, 
 Donna Vittoria, you do not know what sensible advice you gave 
 me the other day ! You were quite right when you said that 
 Cristina would respond to the confidence I showed in her. P'or 
 a few moments, I admit, she was angry." 
 
 " Angry ? at your telling her of your suspicion regarding your 
 cousin ? " 
 
 " Macchl 1 " exclaimed Ugo. " I never mentioned that to her 
 ^— and afterwards I was thankful I had not done so. No, I
 
 218 TEMPTATION 
 
 mean she was angry at hearing I had consulted you — oh, but for 
 a moment only," he continued hurriedly, as Vittoria's expression 
 changed suddenly. " Immediately afterwards she explained why 
 she was angry. It was as you said, she resented my not having 
 immediately confided in her. But she understood — oh yes, she 
 certainly understood ! and the proof is that ever since she has 
 been — well, more like she used to be." 
 
 " And your cousin, when did he leave you ? " asked Vittoria 
 suddenly, and somewhat irrelevantly. 
 
 *' The next day. When I returned to Palazzo Vitali after my 
 visit to you, I found he had received a letter from his mother 
 begging him to go to her at once, on account of some matter of 
 business. Naturally, when one's suspicions have once been 
 aroused, no matter how unnecessarily, one cannot help watching 
 people's manner, but indeed there was nothing to watch." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice made a slight gesture. " Caro amico," 
 she said hastily, " why do you enter into these details ? Have I 
 not said that I did not wish to know what may have been written 
 in this famous letter ? " 
 
 "I tell you because I feared lest you, too, had some similar 
 suspicion, and I wished to show you how unfounded it would be 
 did it occur to you. But," he continued hastily, " do not think 
 that I came here this afternoon for this object. I came to tell you 
 how right you were in making me trust Cristina, and to thank you 
 for yet another piece of good counsel. I shall think of you as 
 another Madonna di Baon Consiglio, Donna Vittoria!" 
 
 Vittoria drank her tea in silence. In truth she did not know 
 what to say. Ugo Vitali had been very far from convincing ; so 
 far so, indeed, that she wondered whether he had really suc- 
 ceeded in convincing himself, or whether he were only attempt- 
 ing to hide his doubts from one whom he suspected of sharing 
 them. 
 
 It was with a sense of genuine relief that she saw the frail, spare 
 figure of Don Basilio appear round the corner of the house and 
 turn down the rose-bordered walk leading to the trees beneath 
 which she and Ugo Vitali were sitting 
 
 " Here is Don Basilio," she said quickly. " I am glad if my
 
 TEMPTATION 219 
 
 advice was of any use, Vitali — very glad. As to my having any 
 suspicions, that would be absurd. What possible reason or right 
 could I have to entertain them ? When I said to you the other 
 day that it was better for a woman to have a multitude of admirers 
 than to be thrown too much in the society of one only, I meant 
 what I said and nothing more. After all, what would of course 
 entail no danger to Countess VitaH, might possibly not be so 
 harmless to a young man constantly with her. Ah, Don Basilio, 
 you have arrived in time for some tea, or would you prefer black 
 coffee ? Count Vitali has been paying me a visit. A propostto, 
 he has made a stupendous resolution ! you will never guess what 
 a resolution." 
 
 Don Basilio and Ugo shook hands warmly. " What is it ? " the 
 priest asked. " To purchase an automobile ? " 
 
 " Dio me ne salvi ! " exclaimed Ugo laughing, " I prefer my 
 horses. But what is my stupendous resolution, duchessa ? " 
 
 " To pass a season in Rome," replied Vittoria, addressing her 
 chaplain. " Imagine, Don Basilio." 
 
 Don Basilio felt surprised, and showed his feelings on his 
 face. "Davvero? " he said. "Well," he continued smiling, "he 
 might spend a season in worse places. A young man should see 
 the world. But you will feel rather lost without your usual 
 occupations," he added. 
 
 " Altro ! " assented Ugo ; " but when one has a wife to con- 
 sider — " and he paused. 
 
 Don Basilio smiled. " Most young men do not wait until they 
 have a wife before seeing the world," he remarked drily. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Ugo Vitali took his leave. Don 
 Basilio, sipping his black coffee, looked at Vittoria di San Felice 
 inquiringly. Accustomed to read every expression of her face, 
 he saw that something was troubling her. He asked no questions, 
 however, knowing that if she needed any advice or assistance from 
 him she would tell him so. 
 
 For some minutes Vittoria remailed silent, apparently engaged 
 in arguing out some problem in her mind. Presently she looked 
 up. " What a mistake it is," she observed, a little impatiently, " to 
 meddle in other people's business 1 "
 
 220 TEMPTATION 
 
 Don Basilic replaced his coffee-cup on the table and folded his 
 hands. "That depends on the nature of the business, and still 
 more, perhaps, on the nature of the individuals whose business 
 one meddles in ! Del resto, it is part of my trade to meddle in 
 other people's affairs." 
 
 Vittoria laughed. " In their spiritual affairs — yes," she replied ; 
 " but hardly in their domestic affairs. You are not one of those 
 priests who interfere in matters outside their province." 
 
 Don Basilio shrugged his shoulders. "The spiritual and the 
 domestic are sometimes so intermixed, that it is difficult to give 
 advice regarding the former without appearing to interfere in the 
 latter," he said. 
 
 " How right you are when you say that the nature of the 
 individual in whose business one may have been foolish enough 
 to meddle is of more importance than the business itself ! " 
 Vittoria remarked thoughtfully. " There," she continued, smiling, 
 " is the training of the confessional. You being a priest, at once 
 regard the matter from the psychological standpoint." 
 
 " Scusi, but what matter ? " asked Don Basilio ; " there are so 
 many ! " 
 
 "Ah, I forgot!" replied Vittoria. "I was following the clue 
 of my own thoughts, a clue you do not possess. The fact is," she 
 continued, looking at the priest earnestly, " that in wishing to do 
 good, I think I have very probably done a great deal of harm. 
 It is always like that when we amateurs attempt to meddle." 
 
 " Not always," returned Don Basilio quietly. 
 
 "No, not always, perhaps. But, in this case, something tells 
 me that I have done harm." 
 
 " But if the harm was not intentional." 
 
 Vittoria smiled a little sarcastically. " There spoke the priest 
 again ! " she exclaimed ; " but the conventional priest, saying the 
 conventional thing. A stupid action often has far more serious 
 consequences than a deliberately wrong action. ' Intention ' may 
 be a very important detail in the confessional ; but in everyday 
 life it is of no account whatever." 
 
 Don Basilio laughed gently. "Cara signora duchessa," he 
 remarked, "I will not argue the point. When you become
 
 TEMPTATION 221 
 
 practical, I know by experience that you can be a very dangerous 
 antagonist ! " 
 
 "But I want to be practical!" said Vittoria eagerly; "and 
 perhaps you can help me to be so." 
 
 "I?" and Don Basilio tapped his soutane significantly. "But 
 if you have just told me that I am conventional, with the con- 
 ventionality of the confessor ! " he added, with a twinkle of 
 humour in his eyes. 
 
 "Only," proceeded Vittoria, "we must agree to exclude 
 'intentions,' for, in the present instance, they do not matter at 
 all. I have been talking to Vitali." 
 
 " Si capisce — since I found you together," observed Don Basilio 
 drily. 
 
 " He talked about his wife," said Vittoria. 
 
 Don Basilio looked at her quickly. " Why does he come here 
 to do that ? " he asked. 
 
 " Benissimo ! I see that you mean to be practical," returned 
 Vittoria. "Well, some days ago he asked me for my advice. 
 He wanted to show me a letter — an anonymous letter — he had 
 received " 
 
 " Also about his wife ? " 
 
 Vittoria nodded. "I would not read it," she said; "neither 
 would I allow him to tell me what it contained. I advised him 
 to take the letter to his wife, and to nobody else — certainly, to no 
 other woman. Do you think I was right ? " 
 
 " Conventionally — yes." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice stamped her foot. Then in spite of 
 herself, she laughed. " What do you mean, Don Basilio ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I mean, that you undoubtedly gave him the right and proper 
 advice for a woman to give a man, under the circumstances. 
 Whether many women would have given it is another question, 
 and one which does not signify. Only " 
 
 " Only — what ? " asked Vittoria, as he hesitated. 
 
 "Only you omitted to take into account the possibility that 
 Countess Vitali's nature might not be like your own." 
 
 " I know that you distrust her," said Vittoria.
 
 222 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Distrust ! " echoed Don Basilio ; " that is not the term. I 
 may be wrong," he continued ; " but I should not beUeve a word 
 Countess Vitali said. She is false — I feel it — and, God forgive 
 me for thinking it, I think she is evil. I hope that Count Vitali 
 will not regret taking her to Rome." 
 
 " I advised him to do so," said Vittoria quickly. " I do not 
 know, as I have told you, what that anonymous letter contained, 
 but I can guess. Vitali is too generous to be suspicious. He 
 could not act dishonourably himself, and therefore cannot imagine 
 that others could do so by him. In Rome, at all events, his 
 wife will be thrown with a variety of people, and not with one 
 person only, as has been the case lately. All the same, Don 
 Basilio, I am not sure whether I have not made a mistake in 
 giving Vitali any advice at all. When I gave it, I did not 
 think he would have let his wife know that he had consulted 
 me." 
 
 Don Basilio joined the tips of his fingers together and looked 
 at her thoughtfully. " That was a mistake," he said gravely. 
 
 " It was an excess of confidence," returned Vittoria. 
 
 "It is the same thing. And what has been the result, 
 duchessa ? " 
 
 "The result? it is sufficiently perplexing. I do not believe 
 that Vitali himself is quite sure what the result has been. 
 Apparently, however, his wife has succeeded in convincing him 
 that certain suspicions he had momentarily entertained regarding 
 his cousin — that young man who came to breakfast here, you 
 remember — are altogether unfounded. Apparently, too, Countess 
 Vitali is now exerting herself to make her husband happier than 
 I suspect him to have been lately. I know I ought to believe all 
 this to be genuine, but something tells me that it is not." 
 
 Don Basilio looked at her keenly for a moment. "The some- 
 thing," he observed, " is your friendship for Count Vitali." 
 
 " Perhaps," returned Vittoria di San Felice simply. " It is 
 very natural. I have known him most of my life ; and it has 
 distressed me to see that his marriage has not been altogether 
 a success. I thought that, in marrying where he did, he had 
 perhaps done more wisely than if he had taken a woman
 
 TEMPTATION 223 
 
 entirely of his own class. As you know, I have always tried 
 to befriend Countess Vitali. I considered that the people 
 here talked nonsense about her origin, or, rather, her father's 
 origin." 
 
 Don Basilio was silent for a moment. " I do not quite under- 
 stand what is troubling you," he said, at length. " You think 
 you have given bad advice — is that it ? " 
 
 '* I think that I should have given no advice," replied Vittoria. 
 " But when an old friend asks for one's advice, it is not easy to 
 refuse it. All the same, as I could not tell Vitali all my 
 suspicions, it would probably have been better to hold my tongue ! 
 Moreover, I have a presentiment of some evil, some horror. It 
 is vague, and I cannot explain it, but it troubles me." 
 
 "Did Count Vitali tell you what his wife said when she 
 learned that he had consulted you ? " asked Don Basilio 
 suddenly. 
 
 "He said that she was angry at first, but that she soon under- 
 stood why he had done so. But, Don Basilio, she would never 
 really believe that I had refused to know the contents of that 
 letter ; though she may have pretended to Vitali that she believed 
 him when he told her so. I would rather she had continued to 
 be angry." 
 
 " And so would I," agreed the priest. " It would have been 
 more natural." 
 
 Vittoria glanced at him. " You think that I should not have 
 interfered," she said, a little bitterly. " After all," she continued, 
 "I think so myself. I have done no good, and I may have 
 done Vitali harm. I believe the writer of that letter is a more 
 honest friend than I am." 
 
 " But if you do not know its contents ? " hazarded Don Basilio. 
 
 "Mai" exclaimed Vittoria. "It is not difficult to divine 
 them. Vitali is being deceived, I am confident that he is being 
 deceived." 
 
 " We shall see," observed Don Basilio. 
 
 " He is to return for the vintage," said Vittoria drily. 
 
 "He— who?" 
 
 " But the cousin, of course ! That is what I wanted to make
 
 224 TEMPTATION 
 
 Vitali understand would be — madness ; and I had not the courage 
 to tell him my thoughts. Could it not be prevented ? " 
 
 Don Basilio considered for a moment or two before replying 
 to the question. " Yes," he said, presently, " perhaps it could, 
 duchessa, but not by you ; certainly not by you. You must not 
 place any weapon in Countess Vitali's hands which she might use 
 against you — and her husband. Do you understand me ? " 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice turned towards the tea-table and began 
 somewhat aimlessly to arrange the cups on the silver tray beside 
 her. " Yes," she said, quietly ; " perhaps I do. Thank you, 
 Don Basilio."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 JULY, with its long, scorching days, was over, and had given 
 place to the more sultry heat of August. In the vineyards 
 the grapes were fast colouring ; the fig trees were laden with their 
 scented fruit of rich purple or fresh green ; and the tall, yellow 
 spikes of the ripened maize rustled and crackled whenever a 
 faint breeze touched them. It was a season when, for the 
 moment, agricultural labour was almost suspended. The great 
 white oxen were standing idle in their stalls ; the peasants were 
 occupied in the gathering of the figs, peaches, pomegranates, and 
 all the divers fruits from the trees scattered through the vineyards. 
 It was a time of semi-repose for men, women, and beasts before 
 the beginning of the grape-harvest ; when from early morning to 
 dusk the country would resound with laughter and songs as 
 row after row of vines were despoiled of their purple and white 
 clusters and the oxen plodded slowly off drawing the carts laden 
 with fruit for consignment to the wine-presses. 
 
 For Cristina Vitali, who took no interest in the various phases 
 of the agricultural life passing around her, the time which had 
 elapsed since Fabrizio's departure had passed monotonously 
 enough. During the first few days that she once more found her- 
 self quite alone with Ugo she had set herself steadily to remove 
 from his mind all lingering suspicions as to the letter he had re- 
 ceived being anything else than the attempt of some mischief- 
 maker to sow discord between a husband and wife, and in this 
 endeavour she had succeeded fairly well. Little as Ugo knew 
 the world, he was quite aware that such weapons as anony- 
 mous letters were often enough employed for similar purposes. 
 Possibly, too, he was the more easily convinced that mischief- 
 making was the real object of the letter, inasmuch as he knew 
 that his marriage had been regarded with anything but favour or 
 sympathy by his neighbours. Cristina, indeed, did not hesitate to
 
 226 TEMPTATION 
 
 avail herself of this argument, and to point out to him that in all 
 probability the letter owed its origin to the jealousy or disappoint- 
 ment of one or another of these neighbours. On several occa- 
 sions when, after Fabrizio's departure, she and Ugo had reverted 
 to the subject of the letter, Cristina had been on the point of 
 telling him the same story she had told Fabrizio concerning the 
 imaginary missive she herself had received. Ugo would certainly 
 feel that it would be ungenerous on his part to brood over 
 anonymous allegations concerning her when she had dismissed 
 from her mind as a matter unworthy of her consideration an 
 allegation of a similar nature concerning himself. The recollec- 
 tion, however, of her husband's sudden outburst of indignation 
 and anger when she had insinuated that he and the Duchessa di 
 San Felice were on terms of more than mere friendship had caused 
 her to think twice before venturing to include this latter argument 
 among the others she employed. It was no part of her scheme 
 to make Ugo angry. Moreover, if there were really any secret 
 understanding between him and the San Felice, her wiser course 
 would be to affect ignorance, at any rate for the present, and until 
 such time as she might have positive proof that things were as she 
 had made Fabrizio believe them to be. 
 
 For the first two or three weeks after Fabrizio had left Palazzo 
 Vitali Cristina felt that she was succeeding admirably in the role 
 she had decided to play. The part, however, was a difficult one ; 
 and, as time went on, it became ever more difficult. The change 
 in her attitude towards Ugo — the change which she had at once 
 settled that it would be necessary to feign — brought about its 
 natural consequences. Her husband became once more her 
 lover. Perhaps she had scarcely understood that this would be 
 the result, or that it was, indeed, a proof of the success of her 
 deception. Nevertheless, it was a result which had to be endured, 
 and the endurance of it became terrible to Cristina. Never before 
 had she realised so completely that the love she had for a brief 
 space imagined herself to possess for her husband had been a 
 purely animal passion which had long ago burned itself out. And 
 now, when the ashes of that passion were stirred, the stirring of 
 them uncovered repulsion and disgust.
 
 TEMPTATION 227 
 
 And yet it had to be endured ; and the strain both mental and 
 physical involved in its endurance became ever more intolerable 
 in proportion as her husband's love rekindled under the feigned 
 affection she felt herself obliged to show him. 
 
 At times it would startle her to find how deeply rooted her 
 love for Fabrizio had become ; and the necessity of submitting 
 herself to a love, which was not the love she longed for with all 
 the force of her southern nature, was an ever increasing torture. 
 As the weeks went by, it had grown more and more difficult to 
 play the part she had thought it would be so easy to assume. To 
 her, who had from her earliest childhood found excitement and 
 delight in deceiving those about her, and who had succeeded in 
 deceiving even such acute observers of youthful characters as 
 were the Assumptionist nuns at Perugia, it had seemed an easy 
 task to throw dust in the eyes of any one so simple and un- 
 suspicious by nature as Ugo. She had not, however, reckoned 
 with the fact that she would be called upon to do violence to 
 feelings, the depth of which she had never until lately recognised. 
 A disgust, both physical and mental, with her husband's love only 
 served to add fresh fuel to the furnace of desire burning within 
 her to enjoy to the full the satisfaction of that other love which, 
 almost unknown to herself, had taken entire possession of her. 
 
 The constant strain entailed by this new deception quickly 
 began to have its effect upon Cristina. She grew restless, and 
 full of a suppressed irritability. As long as Fabrizio had been 
 at Palazzo Vitali she had been resolute in adhering to her 
 determination not to accord him all he had sought from her. 
 It was a dangerous thing, she had told herself again and again, 
 for a woman to give everything until she was more sure of her 
 lover than she, Cristina, was sure of Fabrizio Vitali. She would 
 keep Fabrizio unsatisfied at any rate until something should 
 happen which would enable her to bind him to her irrevocably. 
 What that something was going to be, she had not up to now 
 dared even to formulate in her mind. It was not until Fabrizio 
 liad departed that she reahsed how she, too, was unsatisfied. It 
 was useless, worse than useless, for her in certain moments to 
 shut her eyes and try to imagine that these were Fabrizio's arms
 
 228 TEMPTATION 
 
 which were around her ; that the kisses on her lips were Fabrizio's 
 kisses. Could her husband guess, she wondered, that his love 
 rekindled by her pretended return to that affection she had 
 shown him in the earlier days of their married life, roused in her 
 heart a turmoil of mingled feelings in which hatred was beginning 
 ever more and more to predominate ? Sometimes it seemed to 
 her that he must realise it; that something of the passionate 
 loathing that caused her almost to shudder as she endured his 
 embraces must communicate itself to him. The very ease with 
 which she was able to deceive Ugo, his readiness to respond 
 to every word and look — to all the by-play of the comedy she 
 had set herself to act to him — far from appealing to her 
 compassion or causing her to reproach herself for trading on 
 his love merely aroused in her a sense of impatient contempt. 
 
 And the impatience, the contempt and the hatred grew. They 
 grew until by day and by night her thoughts, even if temporarily 
 diverted from it, always flowed back into one channel. If Ugo 
 no longer existed, if Ugo were dead, Fabrizio would marry her — 
 must marry her. It had been this thought, and not the fear of 
 detection or of its ensuing scandal, which had given her the 
 strength to resist her own longing to give herself wholly to her 
 lover. The cautious cunning of her nature had warned her 
 against being too hasty to part with all she had to give to 
 Fabrizio. It might be that something would set her free from 
 Ugo some day ; and if not — well, then it would be simple enough 
 to content her lover, and nobody, least of all Ugo, need be any 
 the wiser. But if something should happen to set her free, then 
 Fabrizio must marry her, and marriage should be the price of what 
 he desired from her. Often she lay awake in her own room, when 
 the night was yet early, pondering over these two contingencies, 
 and sometimes it had happened that, as she pondered, she would 
 hear Ugo's step crossing the ante-room dividing his apartment 
 from her own. And then she would shut her eyes that he might 
 not read in them all the disgust and hatred his caresses let loose 
 to riot in her heart. 
 
 Between Fabrizio and herself a frequent correspondence passed. 
 In this matter, also, Cristina's habitual caution had not deserted
 
 TEMPTATION 229 
 
 her. Her own correspondence was necessarily extremely limited, 
 being confined almost exclusively to notes from neighbours, or 
 communications from shops in Rome with which she had occasion 
 to deal. It was not advisable, therefore, that Fabrizio's letters 
 should be known by the small household of Palazzo Vitali to 
 arrive at the rate of three or four weekly, nor that her almost 
 daily letters to him should be consigned to Taddeo's care to be 
 posted. If the signora contessa received small parcels by the 
 pacco postak more frequently than had ever before been the case, 
 Taddeo, when he brought the postman's book for her signature 
 as the addressee of these packets, could not be inspired to know 
 that they merely contained a letter enclosed in a cardboard box ; 
 neither could he guess that the various missives addressed some- 
 times to an imaginary name at the poste restante in Rome, and 
 sometimes to an equally imaginary individual at a bookseller's 
 shop in the same city, were in reality intended for Fabrizio Vitali, 
 who called for them at these addresses with an unfailing regularity. 
 This correspondence, indeed, became to Cristina as food and 
 drink in her daily life. She would spend hours over the com- 
 position of her letters to Fabrizio, studying her phrases as 
 carefully as she would have studied her words had she been 
 speaking them to him. They were not impassioned letters such 
 as Fabrizio wrote to her ; but they conveyed nevertheless a sense 
 of dependence upon him which was calculated at once to appeal 
 to his sympathy and compassion, as well as to his love. Countess 
 Vitali, in fact, had quite succeeded in persuading herself that 
 she had been married merely to enable her husband to continue 
 an intrigue with a woman who had never been able to make up 
 her mind to marry him herself. It was certain that Ugo's action 
 in taking to the Duchessa di San Felice the anonymous letter he 
 had received had afforded Cristina the best possible pretext for 
 completing this process of self-persuasion. The knowledge she 
 had gained of her lover's character had long ago convinced her 
 that he would eagerly seize any excuse wherewith to quiet his 
 scruples of conscience with regard to his conduct towards 
 Ugo. Nothing, as she had quickly realised, could have been a 
 more efficacious anodyne for those scruples than the knowledge
 
 230 TEMPTATION 
 
 that Ugo was himself an unfaithful husband, and that she, 
 Cristina, was a wife who was being systematically wronged and 
 deceived. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali's letters clearly shewed that, however difficult 
 it might at first have been to him to believe in the existence of 
 an intrigue between his cousin and the Duchessa di San Felice, 
 he was now firmly persuaded of Ugo's duplicity. As Countess 
 Vitali had anticipated would be the case, his sense of com 
 passion was fully aroused, and with it had been aroused also a 
 certain sense of chivalry none the less eager because it was 
 misplaced. 
 
 But now Cristina's mind, ever restless and ever calculating, 
 found itself confronted by a fresh problem ; one which, notwith- 
 standing all her ingenuity, she found herself entirely unable to 
 bring within the range of an even possible solution. By day and 
 by night this problem haunted her, and seemed as it were to eat 
 its way into her very brain. Not the least of its difficulties lay in 
 the knowledge that she must keep the fact of its existence rigidly 
 to herself, that she could as yet scarcely venture to discuss its 
 solution even with herself. There had been a time when she had 
 nourished a half-formed hope that Fabrizio might help her in 
 effecting its ultimate solution, and she had cautiously felt her way 
 with him as one trying to pass over unknown and perilous ground. 
 She had speedily drawn back, however, realising intuitively that 
 neither with her lover nor with any living human being could she 
 share her problem. 
 
 It had been this intuition, this knowledge that she must 
 grapple alone with the fleeting, restless thoughts which of late 
 had crystallised themselves into one predominating idea, which 
 had caused her, gradually and almost unconsciously, to seek 
 inspiration as to its solution not from the living but from the 
 dead. 
 
 It was absurd, of course — she told herself again and again that 
 it was absurd — but whenever she went into the gallery and sat 
 before the portrait of Donna Giulia Vitali, after a short time had 
 elapsed during which her own eyes seemed to be held enchained 
 by those in the picture, she would feel no longer either afraid or
 
 TEMPTATION ii31 
 
 ashamed to formulate her problem to herself. Those eyes, 
 always looking into hers, seemed to give her courage to debate 
 calmly and dispassionately with herself; they seemed to draw all 
 the horror out of her predominating thought as though by a 
 natural process, and to reveal that thought to her under a 
 different aspect, no longer irrational or repulsive but reasonable, 
 and of a strange fascination. 
 
 After Fabrizio's departure it had become a constant habit with 
 Cristina to resort to the gallery and dream away the hours of the 
 long August afternoons. She knew that no one would disturb or 
 break in upon her meditations, for neither Taddeo nor any other 
 members of the household of Palazzo Vitali cared to enter that 
 apartment unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. Countess 
 Vitali could scarcely have explained to herself why she felt an 
 •ever-increasing desire to be alone with Donna Giulia's portrait. 
 She certainly did not believe in the tales that were told of Donna 
 Giulia's periodical re-appearances on the scene of the crime she 
 had perpetrated nearly three centuries ago. The supernatural 
 appealed to her as little as it does to the vast majority of Italians, 
 which is tantamount to saying that it did not appeal to her at all, 
 but left her both incredulous and indifferent. For some time, 
 however, she had experienced a strange pleasure in allowing her 
 mind to dwell upon the tragedy in which Donna Giulia Vitali had 
 played so prominent a part. The story, it was true, was little 
 more than a tradition. The papers and manuscripts of Casa 
 Vitali, of which Ugo possessed a considerable collection, and 
 which, owing to the accident of his father's only brother having 
 taken an intelligent interest in such things, were in fairly good 
 order, contained neither record of nor allusion to Donna Giulia's 
 crime, although among the documents of that period there were 
 numerous letters written by Donna Giulia herself, by her more 
 famous sister, Donna Olimpia Pamphili, Princess of San Martino, 
 and by other members of the Maidalchini family; as well as auto- 
 graph epistles in the handwriting of their apostolic brother-in-law, 
 Pope Innocent X. The Vitali, no doubt, had been careful to destroy 
 any documentary evidence of the domestic tragedy which had 
 taken place within the walls of their palace at Viterbo ; but they
 
 232 TEMPTATION 
 
 had been unable to exercise a similar discretion in the muniment- 
 rooms of their neighbours. The entire story of Donna Giulia's 
 love intrigue with her husband's elder brother, and her subsequent 
 agreement with her husband to rid herself of her lover by poison- 
 ing him and thus to place her husband in possession of his 
 brother's inheritance, had been duly chronicled by a contemporary 
 writer belonging to a Viterbese family which had at that time been 
 nearly as powerful as the Vitali themselves, although it could not 
 boast of a near connection with the reigning pontiff. This 
 document had been copied by various students of medieval history. 
 It had already become to all intents and purposes public property 
 when scarcely more than a century had elapsed since Donna 
 Giulia, acting in accordance with the deliberations of a consiglio di 
 famiglia, murdered the man whose mistress she had been for 
 several years by a gradual process of poisoning. 
 
 Cristina Vitali would certainly have been unable to explain, 
 even to herself, why her frequent visits to Donna Giulia's portrait 
 seemed to exercise some peculiar influence over her ; nor, indeed, 
 could she have accurately described that influence. She was only 
 conscious of the fact that when she was alone in the gallery the 
 eyes of the portrait seemed to be following her every movementi 
 and that she had no longer the sense of being the only occupant 
 of the room. This feeling, however, was a secondary one. What 
 she realised more definitely was a mental rather than a physical 
 influence. Her thoughts, which at other times would revolve 
 restlessly and incoherently round an idea as yet but partially con- 
 ceived, seemed as it were to be set in order for her. Her mind 
 no longer turned with fear and dismay from that persistent idea 
 which lurked like a shadow in its innermost recesses, but welcomed 
 it and cherished it lovingly. Had not Cristina been absolutely 
 ignorant of all the modern revivals of ancient occultism, it might 
 have occurred to her that perhaps she was deliberately opening 
 the gates of her mind to the entry of occult influences. As it was, 
 she was entirely unconscious that she was doing any such thing. 
 Although she knew vaguely that there was a numerous and rapidly 
 increasing body of people in Italy which occupied itself with 
 spiritism in all its various forms, the subject had never come
 
 TEMPTATION 233 
 
 within her horizon ; consequently, it would never have entered 
 into her head to ascribe to some occult influence that strange 
 sensation of relief and satisfaction at finding herself, when alone 
 with Donna GiuHa's portrait, able to reflect calmly and remorse- 
 lessly upon the possibility of carrying into effect a scheme upon 
 which at other times her thoughts would refuse to dwell except in 
 an unconnected and disorderly manner. 
 
 Whether some occult powers were in reality exercising their 
 influence over her mind, or whether she herself was gradually 
 training her mind to accustom itself to the reception of a terrible 
 idea, the fact remained that Cristina now regarded her repeated 
 meditations in Cardinal Astorre's apartments in Palazzo Vitali 
 as a necessity of her everyday life. But, notwithstanding the 
 mental satisfaction she was sensible of deriving from her half 
 unconscious communings with the portrait of her husband's 
 ancestress, she felt that the solution of the problem which occupied 
 her mind was as far removed as ever. When they were alone 
 together at dinner Countess Vitali would often sit in silence, 
 gazing at Ugo. He was so strong, she said to herself impatiently — 
 so healthy — like a healthy animal in its prime. Would anything 
 ever happen to take him out of her life — anything natural ? It 
 was all very easy for Donna Giulia — but, in these days, when 
 healthy people died suddenly, there were enquiries, and doctors 
 opened the bodies. 
 
 Often Ugo would notice his wife's abstraction, and then 
 he would begin to talk abont their approaching season in 
 Rome. 
 
 Then Cristina would rouse herself from her meditations. 
 She was determined that she would keep him in a good humour, 
 and unsuspicious ; unsuspicious of Fabrizio, of her, and of her 
 secret thoughts, those thoughts which now never left her except 
 when she slept, and which even then would often haunt her 
 dreams. It was terrible to have to work alone to gain her 
 object ! She had hoped at first that Fabrizio might have helped 
 her, but Fabrizio would not dare so much, nor could she 
 venture ever to hint to him anything of her purpose. He would 
 turn from her in horror, and yet she would be carrying out that
 
 234 TEMPTATION 
 
 purpose for his happiness as well as for her own. If she could 
 succeed in removing Ugo from their path, would she not be 
 giving her lover money, lands, rank, and herself? 
 
 By degrees the primary incentives which had influenced her, 
 the desire to escape from the narrow surrounding of a provincial 
 life, to force for herself an entrance into a wider sphere in 
 which it would be possible to gratify her ambitions, and in 
 which the beauty she was fully conscious of possessing would 
 open out for her an easy path, had assumed a secondary place 
 in her mind. It was only after Fabrizio Vitali's departure, how- 
 ever, that she fully realised the position into which she had 
 almost unconsciously drifted, and knew that she loved him with 
 a love she had never believed herself capable of feeling. And 
 now that she did realise the fact that, for the first time in her life, 
 this love had come to her, she was resolved sooner or later that 
 all obstacles to its enjoyment should be removed. The fear 
 she had formerly felt of allowing her mind to dwell upon the 
 only event which could satisfactorily remove the chief obstacle to 
 her lover's and her happiness was now almost entirely absorbed 
 in the thought that by bringing about its removal she would be 
 securing to Fabrizio the position which she was convinced that 
 he had always secretly coveted. She told herself again and 
 again that she was working for Fabrizio's cause ; that Ugo ha(l 
 proved himself to be quite unworthy of the place he occupied 
 All these reflections, however, brought the practical solution of 
 the principal problem which confronted her no nearer. Ugo was 
 in the prime of life, to all appearances an absolutely robust 
 and healthy man, leading the active and regular life which makes 
 for health and longevity. It was obviously absurd to rely upon 
 the unexpected happening, some accident or illness. Countess 
 Vitali had certainly never read the works of " George Eliot " ; nor, 
 probably, had she even heard of that giantess among modern 
 English novelists. Nevertheless, she unconsciously shared the 
 opinion of Mrs Poyser to the effect that individuals not wanted 
 in this world are not wanted in the next ; and she felt that any 
 fortunate chance intervening to remove her husband elsewhere was 
 not worth taking into account.
 
 TEMPTATION 255 
 
 In the meantime, the days passed monotonously enough at 
 Palazzo Vitali. During the hot hours of the long, August 
 afternoons Cristina would often pace restlessly through the 
 deserted and darkened rooms of the cardinal's apartment, and 
 her steps would be drawn, as though by some invisible magnet, 
 to that end of the gallery where the portrait of Donna Giulia 
 hung. Ugo, as usual, was seldom within doors, and seemed 
 to devote himself more than ever to the care of his property. 
 His absence was always a relief to Cristina. During those hours 
 she felt that she was free, that she need no longer play a part. 
 She could reason with herself, and with Donna Giulia. The 
 portrait in the gallery had become a companion to her, so much 
 so that at times she would forget that it was merely a piece of 
 painted canvas. The eyes seemed to read her thoughts, and 
 occasionally even to answer them. 
 
 One afternoon, it was the festa of the " Ferragosto," the Feast 
 of the Assumption, than which throughout Italy there is no more 
 popular holiday, and Cristina was alone in the gallery. The post 
 had brought her a letter from Fabrizio, and she had been reading 
 and re-reading it as she sat in one of the heavy, gilded chairs 
 with their faded damask coverings which were ranged at intervals 
 along the sides of the room. Presently she folded the letter in 
 its envelope and slipped it into the bosom of the white cashmere 
 dress she was wearing. As she did so she looked up, and her 
 eyes met those of the portrait iixed upon her with their mocking 
 smile. 
 
 " Why can you not show me the way ? " she exclaimed suddenly, 
 unconscious that she spoke the words aloud. Rising from her 
 chair she crossed the room and stood beneath the picture, her 
 back turned to the double doors at the further end of the gallery. 
 "You did it," she muttered almost angrily, "and you are always 
 silent — always ! If it is true that your spirit lives, somewhere, 
 why can you not help us, Fabrizio and me, and show me a 
 way ? " 
 
 "Cristina!" 
 
 Cristina started and turned hastily as she heard her husband's 
 voice. He had entered the gallery by the doors behind her, and
 
 236 TEMPTATION 
 
 now stood a few paces from her, looking at her with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 '* Do you know that you were talking to yourself ? " he asked. 
 " I could not quite catch your words, but you were certainly 
 talking to yourself. It is a dangerous habit." 
 
 Cristina looked at him with a half-dazed expression. Then she 
 laughed suddenly, " Why do you laugh ? " she said to him, 
 suspiciously. " Are you laughing at what you heard me say ? " 
 
 Ugo stared at her. " It was you who laughed, not I ! " he said, 
 " and I do not know what is the matter with you, Cristina," he 
 added quickly. " I never heard you laugh like that. It was like 
 somebody else laughing, not you at all ! " 
 
 With an effort Countess Vitali recovered herself. " You 
 startled me," she said lightly. " I had no idea that you were in 
 the room. I suppose I laughed unconsciously, and so thought 
 that it was you who laughed. Sicuro ! I was thinking of Donna 
 Giulia when you came in, and I daresay I thought aloud, which, 
 as you say, is a bad habit." 
 
 Ugo Vitali smiled. "What do you want of Donna Giulia?" 
 he asked. " If my ears did not deceive me, you said, ' Why can 
 you not show me the way?' I do not think I should select 
 Donna Giulia as a guide," he added. 
 
 Cristina gave him a rapid, furtive glance, and then she 
 shrugged her shoulders. " Sciocchezze ! " she said indifferently. 
 "I had been thinking of your mysterious ancestress, that is 
 quite true. But I had also been thinking of something more 
 prosaic; that is, of the cut of a new dress which does not 
 please me. I suppose I unconsciously appealed to Donna Giulia 
 to help me out of the difficulty ! " 
 
 Ugo laughed. "Is that all?" he observed. " I am relieved," 
 he continued, " for really, when I heard you laugh it startled me. 
 It was like — well, I do not know what it was like, but like some- 
 thing evil." 
 
 " Grazie ! " said Cristina mockingly. 
 
 " That is why it startled me," returned Ugo. " It was as if 
 somebody else were laughing, through you — somebody quite 
 different. Oh, I cannot explain, and no doubt it was all my
 
 TEMPTATION 237 
 
 imagination, and that the laugh was not like your own laugh 
 because you, also, were startled at finding I was in the 
 room." 
 
 Cristina was silent for a moment. " No doubt it was imagina- 
 tion," she said, at length j "indeed, what else could it have 
 been?"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 T T was now late in August, and every day the clusters of grapes 
 ■*■ hanging in the vineyards were turning a deeper purple or 
 a richer amber colour, according to the variety of the vines. 
 The excessive heat of that summer had brought all the fruits ot 
 the earth more quickly to maturity ; and the forward condition 
 of the grapes made it evident that the vintage must commence 
 nearly a fortnight earlier than was usually the case. 
 
 Ugo Vitali was happier in his mind than he had ever been 
 since the first year of his marriage. Although at times Cristina 
 would be silent and preoccupied, there were hours when she 
 was all that she had been in the earlier days of their married 
 life. Like many proud and reserved natures, Ugo was keenly 
 sensitive, and it needed but little effort on his wife's part to 
 make him respond to the affection which he never doubted was 
 again beginning to reassert itself after a temporary estrangement 
 most probably, as he assured himself, caused by the disappoint- 
 ment she had suffered in not having children having reacted 
 upon her health. 
 
 It was perfectly in accordance with his own nature and 
 
 temperament that Ugo Vitali, while rejoicing at the change in 
 
 his wife's demeanour, should reproach himself for having made 
 
 her life unnecessarily dull and monotonous. He did not attempt 
 
 to disguise from himself the fact that he had in the first instance 
 
 been mistaken in the character of the woman he had married. 
 
 He had, it was true, been desperately enamoured of Cristina's 
 
 beauty; but he had also calculated that in marrying her, the 
 
 daughter of a self-made man, a girl who had not been brought 
 
 up with any expectations of playing a part in the world of society, 
 
 he was marrying a wife who would be content to lead the life 
 
 from which he had resolved he would never dissociate himself. 
 
 Ugo had long ago realised that he had been mistaken in this 
 238
 
 TEMPTATION 239 
 
 calculation ; but he had never allowed himself to consider that 
 he had been deceived. Cristina, it was true, had always led him 
 to suppose that she asked for nothing better than the hfe he 
 had offered her. Even now, after she had furnished him with 
 abundant proof that she had in reality expected something very 
 different from this life, he was determined to believe that, had 
 she only had the satisfaction of being a mother, she would never 
 have become discontented with her lot. 
 
 Quite unconsciously to herself, the Duchessa di San Felice's 
 arguments had aroused in Ugo a very insistent spirit of self- 
 reproach. This was certainly not what Vittoria di San Felice 
 had intended when she urged upon him the advisability of 
 allowing his wife to see more of the world than he k'>d hitherto 
 permitted her to do. The duchessa had proffered this advice 
 foreseeing complications of too domestic a character in the near 
 future ; complications which she was of opinion might be at all 
 events minimised; if not altogether avoided, were Countess 
 Vitali to be surrounded by the admiration which could scarcely 
 fail to fall to her share in the larger world of Rome. There was, 
 as she had observed to Ugo Vitali when he expressed his surprise 
 that she should counsel him to expose his wife to the temptations 
 besetting the path of a good-looking woman in Roman society, 
 safety in numbers. 
 
 Unfortunately the hint which had been veiled by this advice, 
 though it had altogether escaped Count Vitali, had not borne 
 the fruits which might have been expected. The careless indiffer- 
 ence with which his wife had treated the anonymous letter 
 directly pointing at an unnamed individual who could be none 
 other than his cousin Fabrizio had completely disarmed any 
 suspicions that Ugo might otherwise have entertained. More 
 than this, Cristina had, by a clever volte-face, succeeded in 
 leading him to suspect that she was jealous of his friendship with 
 the Duchessa di San Felice, and that in consequence she con- 
 sidered herself to be the aggrieved party. At first he had hotly 
 resented his wife's insinuations as an insult both to himself and 
 to Vittoria. This resentment, however, had been quickly 
 succeeded by a feeling of satisfaction that Cristina should
 
 240 TEMPTATION 
 
 entertain any sentiment of the kind, since the fact of her being 
 jealous of another woman surely proved that she still loved him. 
 This last argument, as any woman could probably have told him, 
 was absolutely unsound ; for the jealousy of a woman is not as 
 the jealousy of a man, and many women are jealous where they 
 have long ceased to love. 
 
 Ugo Vitali was obliged to confess to himself that he had given 
 his wife some cause to resent his friendship with Vittoria di San 
 Felice when he had taken the anonymous letter to the duchessa 
 before showing it to her. The duchessa's decided refusal to 
 receive a confidence which she had told him ought not to be 
 made to any woman but his wife had immediately opened his 
 eyes to the false step he had taken. He had taken that step on 
 the impulse of the moment, but also as the result of long habit, 
 so accustomed had he been to seek Vittoria di San Felice's 
 advice in his difficulties, knowing that hitherto that advice had 
 always been frankly and loyally given to him. It had scarcely 
 struck him until the duchess had somewhat bluntly reminded 
 him of the fact, that he had no right to seek the counsel of 
 another woman in matters concerning his domestic affairs, though 
 there might conceivably be circumstances which would justify 
 him in confiding the same to another man. 
 
 It should not be difficult, he thought, to convince Cristina 
 that she need feel no jealousy towards the Duchessa di San 
 Felice, although he had undoubtedly acted rashly in preferring to 
 confide in the duchessa before he mentioned to his wife the 
 subject of the anonymous letter. But the thought that ever since 
 his marriage he had persistently refused to listen to Cristina's 
 wishes, that he had condemned her to lead a monotonous exist- 
 ence because he himself found such an existence both agreeable 
 to his predilections and to his interests, caused him to reproach 
 himself all the more severely because it was evident to him that 
 his friend and adviser, Vittoria di San Felice, also considered 
 him to have been not a little selfish in his conduct. 
 
 One of the immediate consequences of this self-reproach was 
 to make Ugo almost feverishly anxious to atone for his past 
 shortcomings, and when Cristina displayed, as she now often did
 
 TEMPTATION 241 
 
 display, a return to her old affection for him he felt that coals of 
 fire were being heaped upon his head. 
 
 Countess Vitali was quick to perceive all the workings of her 
 husband's mind. None but she could ever know at what a cost 
 she played her part ; for in response to her simulated affection 
 for him, all Ugo's former passion for her began to revive. Not 
 the least convincing proof to Cristina of the complete success 
 of her tactics was a certain estrangement which she had by degrees 
 contrived to bring about between her husband and the Duchessa 
 di San Felice. Since his visit to Vittoria when he had wished to 
 acquaint her with the success that had attended the following of 
 her advice, Ugo had not again gone to Villa Falconara. Cristina, 
 nevertheless, was careful to let him see that, though she might 
 have forgiven him his want of confidence in her, she had not for- 
 gotten that he had been ready to discuss her with another woman. 
 That the duchessa had refused to read the letter or to be told 
 its contents Countess Vitali believed no more now than she had 
 believed it when Ugo first told her that this had been the case. 
 She was fully persuaded in her own mind that the San Felice was 
 and always had been in love with Ugo, though latterly she had 
 quite abandoned all attempts to persuade herself that Ugo 
 reciprocated that love. All the same, she distrusted Vittoria di 
 San Felice even more than she would have done had she any 
 reason to believe Ugo to be in love with her. Had not she, 
 Cristina, succeeded in silencing Fabrizio's scruples of conscience 
 by persuading him that she was married to a man whose pro- 
 fessions of love for her were merely fictitious — assumed in order 
 to divert suspicion as to the real nature of his friendship with 
 the Duchessa di San Felice ? The San Felice, she argued to 
 herself, would certainly pursue the same tactics with regard to 
 Ugo. She would lose no opportunity of pointing out to him 
 that it was absurd to consider himself bound to a wife, 
 when that wife was in all probability already faithless to him. 
 That the San Felice would act as she herself had acted was, 
 indeed, Cristina's principal fear ; and, as she realised that Ugo's 
 love for her was as passionate as it ever had been, it was a fear 
 which increased daily. She had amply proved to herself that, 
 Q
 
 242 TEMPTATION 
 
 left alone, she could effectually banish any latent suspicions which 
 Ugo might still entertain regarding Fabrizio ; but if the Duchessa 
 di San Felice, in order to increase her influence over Ugo, were to 
 play the part of the candid friend and open his eyes to the truth, 
 Countess Vitali trembled to think what the consequences must 
 inevitably be. She was quick to see that Ugo was by no 
 means displeased with her assumed jealousy of Vittoria di San 
 Felice, and that he made a point of abstaining from visiting Villa 
 Falconara in order to show her that this jealousy was misplaced.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 TN former days, before Ugo Vitali's marriage, Don Basilic, 
 -'- domestic chaplain to Casa San Felice, was a frequent 
 visitor at Palazzo Vitali. He had been on intimate terms with 
 the late count; and, indeed, was supposed at one time, during 
 the period immediately succeeding the fall of the papal govern- 
 ment, to have exercised considerable influence over him. In 
 those days feeling ran high between the supporters of Italian 
 unity and the adherents to the temporal sovereignty of the pope. 
 As in France at the present time, men who were anything but 
 religious used religion as a political lever, according to the ends 
 they had in view ; and, as in the France of to-day, men who were 
 truly religious and not merely " clericali " formed a group of 
 moderates which recognised that medieval abuses could no 
 longer exist side by side with modern progress ; and that the 
 Church, like every other human body, must adapt herself to the 
 new order of things gradually created by the changing needs and 
 conditions of society. 
 
 The traditions of Casa Vitali, naturally enough, were all in 
 favour of the recently defunct papal administration and its 
 temporal claims. For centuries Viterbo had been one of the 
 chief cities of the States of the Church — a residence, albeit 
 occasionally a forced one, of former sovereign pontiffs ; and 
 Casa Vitali itself, although proud of its unbroken descent from 
 one of the great baronial Roman families which dictated terms 
 to popes and councils, owed its possessions in and around the 
 ancient city to the fact that one at least of its members had been 
 a Prince of the Church. 
 
 Don Basilio, although a priest, did not belong, and never had 
 belonged, to the so-called clerical party. He was both a learned 
 and a good man. Something of a mystic, he possessed the 
 detached mind of a mystic, and was apt to regard the doings of 
 
 243
 
 244 TEMPTATION 
 
 human society from a purely objective point of view. Politics, 
 therefore, interested him but little ; and ecclesiastical politics he 
 held in particular detestation. Had it not been for his mental 
 energy and for a profound, if somewhat cynical, sympathy with 
 his fellow-creatures, Don Basilio would have made a good 
 monk — of the contemplative kind. As it was, he had devoted 
 himself to being of use to his fellow-creatures in the world, so far 
 as his somewhat narrow sphere allowed of his being so. Many 
 of his acquaintances wondered that he did not care to enlarge 
 that sphere, and that he was contented to remain a simple parish 
 priest and the private chaplain to the Duchessa di San Felice and 
 her household. Only his intimate friends, and they were very 
 few, knew that he was constantly striving to enlarge his sphere. 
 Vittoria di San Felice knew it, and so did half a dozen others. 
 There were men, and one woman, whom he had never seen in the 
 flesh, but with whom he corresponded, and whose fellow-worker 
 he was ; although, as a priest of the Catholic Church, he set forth 
 upon his explorations of that unseen world, which he knew to be 
 always around him, from a slightly different starting-point. Of 
 these matters he rarely spoke. None knew better than he how 
 jealous is the Church of her spiritual preserves, how severely she 
 discountenances and condemns all attempts on the part of her 
 children to trespass beyond the narrow boundaries which, for the 
 better safe-guarding of her material interests, she has been 
 compelled to erect. 
 
 Don Basilio was driving his old pony slowly up the hill to the 
 old battlemented gateway of Viterbo known as the Porta San 
 Giovanni. The pony, and the phaeton which was its con- 
 temporary and now rattled and jingled over the loose stones on 
 the hill-side, had been gifts from the old Duca di San Felice at 
 the time when Don Basilio undertook the charge of the parish 
 church some two miles from Villa Falconara — a thoughtful gift 
 presented with the object of saving him from the obligation of 
 using his legs when he came over to the villa to say mass, or to 
 hear confessions on the eve of the great festivals of the Church. 
 Business took him to Viterbo that morning, and an interview 
 with the bishop on matters connected with his parish. The
 
 TEMPTATION 245 
 
 pony had scarcely commenced the gradual ascent to the city 
 walls when she stopped abruptly, spreading out her fore-legs in 
 front of her and turning her head, Don Basilio smiled, and 
 gathering up the reins twisted them through the rings of the 
 harness. The pony had done the same thing, on the same spot, 
 for the last ten years ; and Don Basilio had never failed to take 
 the hint given him by getting out and walking up the hill by her 
 side. The sound of horses' hoofs cantering behind him caused 
 him to look round, to find Count Vitali rapidly overtaking him. 
 
 Ugo was mounted on the young chestnut horse he had ridden 
 on the occasion of his visit to Villa Falconara the day after his 
 receipt of the anonymous letter. The animal was going quietly 
 enough now, and Ugo drew up at the priest's side. 
 
 " Don Basilio, buon giorno ! " he said, raising his straw hat a 
 little as he spoke. " What brings you to Viterbo on such a hot 
 morning? You breakfast with us, of course ! " 
 
 Don Basilio shook his head. " I have business with Monsig- 
 nore," he replied ; " but afterwards, before I return home, I will 
 pay you and the signora contessa a visit." 
 
 " No, no," exclaimed Ugo genially. " You can go to 
 Monsignore after breakfast. He will not offer you any — you 
 know he has not a reputation for hospitality, our bishop ! My 
 wife will be delighted to see you. It is long since you have been 
 near us, Don Basilio, and I will take no refusal. Ah, you rascal, 
 would you ? Do you think you will get rid of my weight so 
 easily ? " 
 
 These last words were addressed, not to Don Basilio, but to 
 the chestnut which, with no preliminary warning, hunched its 
 back and gave a violent buck. " The brute will have me off one 
 of these days when I am least thinking of it," continued Ugo, 
 laughing. " None of my people can sit him for long, and he was 
 sold to me as being — quiet ! " 
 
 Don Basilio looked at the horse — a powerful animal with a 
 strong strain of Irish blood in him. 
 
 '* I should sell him," he observed, " before he does anything of 
 the kind. Fortunately, you are too much at home in the saddle 
 for him to get rid of you very easily."
 
 246 TEMPTATION 
 
 *' He is better of the habit than he was when I first had 
 him," Ugo said ; " but he has a way of bucking quite suddenly, 
 when one is least expecting it. But I like the horse, all the 
 same; and next winter I shall hunt on him, when we are in 
 Rome." 
 
 " You have quite made up your mind to spend next winter in 
 Rome, then ? " asked Don Basilio. 
 
 Ugo smiled. " Yes," he replied ; " for my wife's sake — I need 
 hardly say not for my own ! It is very dull for her here, you see. 
 The duchessa thinks that I am quite right to take her to Rome. 
 I have got into a groove, Don Basilio, and I suppose it is a bad 
 thing for men of my age to do that. It is a very pleasant thing, 
 all the same, when one feels that one fits the groove." 
 
 "Yes," observed the priest; " but, as you say, the signora 
 contessa doubtless finds it dull passing the whole year at 
 Palazzo Vitali." 
 
 " There is only one thing about it which really troubles me," 
 continued Count Vitali, and then he paused. 
 
 Don Basilio made no remark. It was not his way to ask 
 questions. 
 
 " I should be afraid that she will find her life here still more 
 dull after a season in Rome," proceeded Ugo. 
 
 The priest glanced at him. " Let us hope not," was all he 
 said. 
 
 Count Vitali shrugged his shoulders a little impatiently. " Her 
 interests are not my interests," he remarked. " The fact is, I am 
 too stupid for her," he added simply. " She should have 
 married a clever man. Cristina is a clever woman, you know — 
 but I forgot, of course, you know her very slightly, Don 
 Basilio." 
 
 " Very slightly," repeated Don Basilio. " Nevertheless," he 
 continued, " I do not agree with you when you imply that she 
 ought therefore to have married a cleverer man. Two clever 
 people ought not to marry. It is apt to create dis turbid 
 
 A by-road to the left led through the vineyards to one of the 
 entrances to the gardens of Palazzo Vitali, and Ugo insisted upon 
 Don Basilio coming in with him to breakfast. Arriving at the
 
 TEMPTATION 247 
 
 stables he gave his horse to one of the men, telling him to see 
 that Don Basilio's pony was put up and given a feed of oats. 
 
 Entering the house by the terrace they found Countess Vitali 
 in the drawing-room. Don Basilio could not but perceive her 
 surprise at seeing him, and he fancied that she looked not only 
 surprised, which was natural enough, but also disconcerted at his 
 unexpected visit. If this were really the case, however, she 
 quickly recovered herself, and received him with at any rate an 
 outward show of cordiality. It was already eleven o'clock, and 
 breakfast was very soon announced by Taddeo, who replied to 
 Don Basilio's greeting with evident pleasure ; for the old servant 
 had been accustomed constantly to see him at Palazzo Vitah in 
 the days when the late Count Vitali was alive. 
 
 The conversation at breakfast did not flag ; nevertheless Don 
 Basilio did not feel at his ease. He had not met Contessa 
 Vitali more than about half a dozen times in his life ; and when 
 he had met her, the sensations she aroused in him had always 
 been the same. To-day, however, he was aware that these 
 sensations were very much more pronounced than they had ever 
 before been. He was conscious, acutely conscious, of the 
 influence of something evil. At the breakfast table they were 
 only three ; yet Don Basilio found himself wondering whether 
 this were indeed the case, or whether a fourth presence were not 
 with them from which the evil he felt to be near him emanated. 
 As the meal proceeded he grew more and more uncomfortable, 
 and only anxious for the moment to arrive when he might 
 reasonably make his escape on the plea that he had various 
 matters of business to attend to in the city before presenting 
 himself in the bishop's ante-chamber, where he might have to 
 wait some time before obtaining his interview. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of his efforts to overcome a sensation of 
 oppression and uneasiness which seemed to be gaining a greater 
 hold upon him, Don Basilio was recalled to more material 
 reflections by an observation made to him by his host. 
 
 " We are expecting my cousin Fabrizio," Ugo remarked; "you 
 remember he was at Villa Falconara that day we breakfasted with 
 the duchessa," he added.
 
 248 TEMPTATION 
 
 Don Basilio looked up quickly from his plate, and as he did so 
 he became aware that Countess Vitali's eyes were fixed upon him 
 sharply and suspiciously. 
 
 " Indeed ? " he observed. " When does he come ? " 
 
 Count Vitali glanced at his wife. " When is it, Cristina ? " he 
 asked. " He was to write to you when he had fixed the date he 
 could leave Montecatini, was he not ? " 
 
 " I am not sure," replied Countess Vitali indifferently ; " one 
 day next week, I believe." 
 
 " Ah, we shall have begun the vintage by that time," remarked 
 Ugo. " My cousin is anxious to be here for it," he added, to 
 Don Basilio. 
 
 " Indeed ? " repeated the priest, a little drily. 
 
 "That is a young man who is wasting his life on dabbling in 
 things better left alone," Ugo continued. 
 
 " Many young men do that," Don Basilio observed briefly. 
 
 Ugo laughed. " Oh, I mean philosophy, and all that kind of 
 thing," he returned. " It is a waste of good brains — for he has 
 good brains. If I possessed brains, I should try to get some 
 material advantage out of them." 
 
 '' There are material advantages to be gained from the study 
 of philosophy," said Countess Vitali quickly. 
 
 " Of course ! " replied Ugo, " but amateur philosophy — that 
 means, as a rule, losing one's way." 
 
 Don Basilio glanced at him. Like many people with no pre- 
 tensions to be clever, Ugo Vitali occasionally delivered himself 
 of a shrewd remark ; and it was not the first time that the priest 
 had heard him do so. 
 
 " Losing one's way ? " he repeated. " It is very easy to do 
 that, conte, without being an amateur philosopher. But, all the 
 same, it is not necessary to lose one's way simply because one 
 studies philosophy — no? Your cousin is young. Most young 
 people lose their way ; but, as they grow older, they find 
 sign-posts." 
 
 " Sign-posts ? " re-echoed Ugo, smiling. 
 
 " Sicuro ! Sorrow, and unrest. They are signs which are 
 usually clear enough — God's signs,"
 
 TEMPTATION 249 
 
 " But whax if your would-be philosopher refuses to admit the 
 existence of God?" asked Count Vitali. 
 
 Don Basilio shrugged his shoulders. "Non importa," he 
 replied. " God writes the signs more clearly ; that is all." 
 
 " I'm afraid Fabrizio is a freethinker," Ugo observed ; " but 
 then," he added, " that is the fashion in these days. You and I, 
 Don Basilio, are quite unfashionable in our ideas," and he 
 laughed pleasantly. 
 
 Don Basilio did not reply. His face wore a grave and pre- 
 occupied expression ; but, as a matter of fact, he was not 
 thinking of Fabrizio Vitali's heterodox opinions. He was 
 searching in his mind for some possible means of opening Count 
 Vitali's eyes to the risk he was running by allowing himself to be 
 deceived into furthering what, the priest felt convinced, was a 
 concerted plan between Fabrizio and the woman who sat at the 
 end of the table, and who, he felt rather than saw, was hanging 
 suspiciously on every word he might utter. 
 
 The local gossip concerning Count Vitali's folly in permitting 
 his wife to spend her days quite alone with Fabrizio had not 
 failed to reach Don Basilio's ears, little as he occupied himself 
 with such matters. He knew, too, that it had reached the ears 
 of the Duchessa di San Felice ; and that, for some reason which 
 she had not thought fit to expound to him, she had paid much 
 more attention to this gossip concerning Count Vitali's domestic 
 affairs than it was her wont to do when tales of a similar nature 
 were repeated to her. With his intimate knowledge of Vittoria 
 di San Felice's proud, reserved character, and of the breadth and 
 generosity of her nature, he had been considerably surprised at 
 discovering a decided inclination on her part to interfere in a 
 matter which could not be any business of her own. That any 
 such interference would be at once misconstrued by the world in 
 general, Don Basilio had ventured delicately to hint to her. 
 Moreover, any similar action by the duchessa would, as he had 
 at once realised, place in Countess Vitali's hands a weapon which 
 it was by no means advisable that she should possess. 
 
 Don Basilio, knowing human nature, had not at first been 
 inclined to attach the least importance either to the rumours which
 
 250 TEMPTATION 
 
 reached him as to the strained relations between Count Vitali 
 and his wife, or to those subsequent ones which pointed to an 
 intrigue between Countess VitaH and her husband's cousin. 
 When, however, it came to his knowledge that Ugo VitaU had 
 actually received an anonymous letter warning him that he was 
 being deceived, Don Basilio had begun to wonder who might be 
 the originator of these rumours. As time went on the tales had 
 become more defined, and altogether of a more intimate 
 character. Knowing how retired a life Count and Countess 
 Vitali led, it was difficult to imagine the source whence these 
 stories sprung. 
 
 In any case it was obvious that Ugo Vitali must be quite 
 indifferent to the anonymous warning he had received, or he 
 would certainly not again receive his cousin Fabrizio under his 
 roof when so short a space of time had elapsed since his last 
 visit. Nevertheless, Don Basilio felt convinced that, in this 
 instance at all events, gossip was telling the truth, and he knew 
 that the Duchessa di San Felice was convinced of it also. He 
 had tried to argue with himself that he was prejudiced against 
 Countess Vitali — that she was, for some reason for which he was 
 unable to account, antij>attca to him — and that therefore he was 
 the more ready to believe in any stories to her discredit. But his 
 sense of conviction, he felt positive, rested on a surer basis than 
 this, the basis of his instinct : the mysterious power he possessed 
 of feeling the presence of evil as though it were a tangible 
 substance from which he recoiled as naturally as a man recoils 
 from some poisonous creature about to strike at him. 
 
 Breakfast was nearly over by this time, and Taddeo was hand- 
 ing round dishes of white moscato grapes, and large purple figs 
 ripe to the bursting point. The footman at that moment re- 
 entered the room, bringing with him a telegram which he took 
 to Countess Vitali who opened it leisurely. 
 
 "It is from Fabrizio," she said, refolding it; "he suggests 
 arriving the day after to-morrow. I suppose that day will do as 
 well as any other, will it not, Ugo ? " 
 
 She spoke quietly, and with an indifference which struck Don 
 Basilio as being too pronounced to be altogether natural. Looking
 
 TEMPTATION 251 
 
 across the table his attention was arrested by a peculiar look on 
 Taddeo's face. The old servant was gazing at Countess Vitali 
 with an unmistakable expression of anger and hatred in his eyes. 
 Apparently he became aware that the priest was watching him, 
 for he turned hastily away, and began to busy himself at a side 
 table. 
 
 " Taddeo knows something," Don Basilio said to himself — and 
 then a sudden thought struck him. 
 
 " Of course the day after to-morrow will do as well as any other 
 day," said Ugo Vitali to his wife. "But there is no need to 
 telegraph to Fabrizio," he added, "a letter will reach him in 
 Rome to-morrow morning." Count Vitali was careful of his 
 soldi, and saw no reason to present any of them unnecessarily to 
 the Government, if he could avoid doing so. " What room will 
 you give him, Cristina ? " he continued. " Donna Giulia's ? " 
 
 Countess Vitali smiled. " I think so," she said. " Fabrizio is 
 not superstitious, you know. He has no objection to pass 
 through the cardinal's apartment at night, when he has to go to 
 his room. So far as I know," she added, " he had no unpleasant 
 experiences when he last occupied Donna Giulia's room." 
 
 Taddeo at this moment dropped a plate, which shivered into 
 fragments on the marble floor of the room used as a dining-room. 
 
 Ugo Vitali looked at his wife with surprise, and a quick frown 
 passed over his face. 
 
 "Why do you say that, Cristina," he remarked hastily, "when 
 you know " 
 
 "Signor Conte!" exclaimed Taddeo suddenly, apparently 
 heedless of his careless action. 
 
 Ugo looked at him. " What is the matter, Taddeo ? " he asked. 
 " If you would pay more attention to your duties and less to our 
 conversation, you would not break my china. You seem to have 
 forgotten the episode of the crucifix," he continued to his wife. 
 
 " Oh — that ! " replied Cristina unconcernedly ; " of course I 
 had forgotten it — one does not remember such a trifle as an object 
 falling from a wall on account of a nail breaking away ! But who 
 told you of that episode?" she asked suddenly. "Taddeo, I 
 suppose."
 
 252 TEMPTATION 
 
 "Fabrizio himself told me," replied Ugo. As a matter of fact 
 Taddeo had spoken of it to him also, and that before his cousin 
 had mentioned it. Count Vitali suddenly recollected, however, 
 that, in telling him of how he had found the crucifix absent from 
 its usual place, and of how Fabrizio had declared that he had 
 found it on his bed, Taddeo had also besought him not to mention 
 the matter to the signora contessa, and she had forbidden him 
 to name it to the signer conte, Fabrizio, too, had begged him 
 not to speak of it to Cristina, as she seemed to look upon the 
 occurrence as one of ill augury. Knowing that his wife did not 
 share his feeling of regard for his father's old servant, Ugo had 
 no wish to place him in a difficulty, and was glad to be able 
 truthfully to say that he had heard of the matter from Fabrizio 
 himself. 
 
 " You had really forgotten that Fabrizio found the crucifix fallen 
 on to his pillow?" asked Ugo. "That is strange," he added, 
 " because I think that Fabrizio was in reality considerably dis- 
 turbed by the episode — and he told me he had discussed it with 
 you, and that you did not wish any further allusion to be made 
 to it. I cannot think how you can have forgotten, Cristina — and 
 I am not at all sure that Fabrizio will care to find himself again 
 in that room. After all, there are plenty of other bedrooms." 
 
 " That is just what there are not," returned Countess Vitali. 
 " There are plenty of bedrooms — it is true — but most of them are 
 uninhabitable." 
 
 She rose from the breakfast-table as she spoke, and Don 
 Basilio took the opportunity of explaining how his business in 
 Viterbo would necessitate his departure without, as Ugo Vitali 
 pressed him to do, remaining to smoke a cigar. 
 
 Ugo accompanied his guest to the top of the staircase leading 
 down to the courtyard, and there delivered him over to Taddeo, 
 who escorted him to ihtportone of the palace. The man lingered 
 as they crossed the court, and seemed as though he were longing 
 for Don Basilio to afford him an opportunity of disburdening his 
 mind. 
 
 Don Basilio, who had noticed the expression on the old 
 servant's face when Fabrizio Vitali's name was mentioned, and
 
 TEMPTATION 253 
 
 had observed his embarrassment over the matter of the crucifix, 
 was not disinclined to enter into conversation with him. 
 
 " So," he observed, " Count Fabrizio Vitali is returning already. 
 He has not been away very long before renewing his visit." 
 
 Taddeo stopped short in the middle of the courtyard. 
 
 "^ una vergogna 1 " he exclaimed. 
 
 Don Basilio looked at him attentively. " How has Count 
 Fabrizio offended you, my friend?" he asked quietly. 
 
 " The signorino must be bUnd — absolutely blind," continued 
 Taddeo, " and it is that woman who blinds him," and he shook 
 his fist in the direction of the part of the palace they had just left. 
 " Not but that the signorino has been warned of what is going 
 on," he added. 
 
 Don Basilio drew him aside under the arcade running round 
 the courtyard. The porter was fast asleep in his little office at 
 the side of the entrance gate. Don Basilio could see him through 
 the open window — his red face thrown back on the shoulder of 
 his arm-chair, with the mouth open. Except the porter, the only 
 living creatures visible were a black cat lazily washing its face in 
 the sunshine, and some pigeons strutting in amatory mood upon 
 the flagstones. 
 
 " It was you, then, who sent the signor conte an anonymous 
 letter some weeks ago," Don Basilio observed abruptly. 
 
 Taddeo started violently. " I ? " he stammered. " Reverendo, 
 no ! why should I have sent him the letter ? " 
 
 " Yes — why ? " repeated Don Basilio. '* Just now you 
 declared that the signor conte had received a warning. How do 
 you know that he has done so — unless you were the sender of 
 that warning ? " 
 
 The man looked at him abashed for a moment or two without 
 replying. Then he said, doggedly : " Reverendo, it is true. My 
 wife wrote the letter, and I sent it to the signor conte. A friend 
 posted it in Rome." 
 
 Don BasiHo nodded. " But why ? " he asked again. 
 
 Taddeo's eyes flashed angrily. " Because they are deceiving 
 him," he replied "The signorino has married a bad woman. 
 Oh, I have watched her, and I know ! As to the other — quel
 
 254 TEMPTATION 
 
 Fabrizio — he is not bad ; he is only weak — a weak boy in the 
 hands of an evil woman — and she will ruin him, body and soul. 
 I have watched, and I know." 
 
 "Gently, my friend," said Don Basilio quietly. "These are 
 strange accusations to make against the wife of your padrone. 
 Perhaps you are mistaken. You say you have watched — and 
 that you know. But when one watches, one often sees what one 
 wishes to see; and it is evident that you dislike the signora 
 contessa. Remember that Count Fabrizio is not a stranger, but 
 a member of the family. I think your are talking nonsense — 
 like many other people." 
 
 " What is he returning for ? " asked Taddeo briefly. 
 
 " Ma — for the vintage." 
 
 " Why does he not go to the Castelli Roraani, then ? Have they 
 not the vintage there, reverendo ? macche / he is coming to pluck 
 another man's fruit — si capisce ! " and Taddeo laughed harshly. 
 
 Don Basilio did not reply for a moment. 
 
 "It seems to me, Taddeo," he said presently, "that the signor 
 conte is capable of looking after his own affairs." 
 
 "But if he is being deceived?" returned the old servant hotly. 
 " Reverendo, I have known the signorino since he was born — 
 and there is no guile in him — none at all. But in that woman he 
 has married, there is guile — nothing else than guile. She has 
 made the conte Fabrizio love her — and she hates her husband. 
 Have I not seen hate in her eyes when she has thought herself 
 unobserved ? Ah, if only he had married the signora duchessa, 
 reverendo ! At one time we all hoped that she and the 
 signorino would make a match of it between them." 
 
 Don Basilio stared at him. " Storie ! " he exclaimed abruptly; 
 " there never was any question of such a thing. The signora 
 duchessa's whole affections are centred in her children. Why 
 should she have thought of marrying again — either the signor 
 conte, or anybody else ? Such ideas are foolish, my friend — and 
 they do harm. But all this is beside the point. You must have 
 some very definite reason for supposing there to be anything 
 more between the signora contessa and her husband's cousin than 
 simply family ties. One has no right to form suspicions of people,
 
 TEMPTATION 255 
 
 and then judge of their conduct in the light of those suspicions. 
 Via — if you have anything definite to say, say it to me. I shall 
 not betray your confidence. But if you have nothing beyond 
 mere suspicions, then do not waste my time and your own in 
 talking nonsense." 
 
 "Nonsense," repeated Taddeo, "nonsense? no, reverendo. I 
 am not talking nonsense, as I will prove to you. I have seen it 
 all coming — from the very beginning — the gradual dislike of the 
 signorino springing up in the heart of that woman. Then the 
 conte Fabrizio came — and immediately — yes, immediately the 
 signora contessa began to make him love her, for amusement 
 to spite her husband — che ne so io? And I watched — and 
 watched. The signora contessa suspects that I watch, for many 
 times she has tried to persuade the signorino to pension me off; 
 saying that I was too old — that a younger servant was necessary. 
 Oh, I know — she has said it to her maid and to many. The 
 signorino once suggested to me that I should retire — that he 
 would make me an allowance. And what did I say to him in 
 reply? that he might turn me, his father's old servant, away if he 
 chose — but that I would not take a baiocco of his money except 
 as my legitimate wages for serving him and Casa Vitali. That is 
 what I said to the signorino — and he has never ventured to speak 
 again to me as he spoke that day." 
 
 Don Basilio smiled at him. He knew the disinterestedness, 
 and the chivalrous devotion to their employers of which servants 
 of Taddeo's stamp were capable. But he knew, also, the 
 readiness of their class to think evil where no evil was — and their 
 resentment against anyone who, as they believed, came between 
 them and their padrone. 
 
 "Ecco !" he interrupted. "What did I say to you just now? 
 You dislike the signora contessa, because you are aware that she 
 would prefer you to retire from service. It is very natural that 
 you should dislike her on that account. But it is also natural 
 that the signora contessa should want to make changes. Women 
 always do. That, however, is no reason for suspecting her of 
 being unfaithful to her husband, and of inducing her husband's 
 nearest relative to become her lover."
 
 256 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Listen, reverendo," continued Taddeo quickly. " I will tell 
 you all, and then you shall judge for yourself whether I am right 
 or wrong. If you can prove to me that I am wrong, tanto meglio! 
 I will go to the signorino, and I will tell him that I wish to retire, 
 and the signora countessa can find somebody new to take my 
 place." 
 
 " Speak," said Don Basilio gently. 
 
 "Bene. Often, when the signora contessa and the cousin 
 have been talking alone together on the terrace, I have overheard 
 their conversation. Voices rise in the open air, reverendo ; and 
 it has so happened that I have more than once been in the 
 rooms on the second floor, through the open windows of which I 
 could distinctly hear all they said. The persiani outside were 
 closed, so they could not know that I was in the rooms. Much 
 of what they talked of, I did not understand, and often they 
 spoke in French. But much I did understand — much also that 
 was not expressed in words : for sometimes, even though the 
 shutters were closed, I could see their faces through the chinks. 
 One thing, however, I could always hear. The signora contessa 
 seemed to take pleasure in reminding the conte Fabrizio that, if 
 the signorino should fall ill and die, he would become Count 
 Vitali and the owner of everything. Once she was saying this 
 and the other was angry. ' Perdio,' I heard him exclaim, 
 * why will you always put things into my mind which I do not 
 wish to think about ? Do you suppose that I wish harm to Ugo ? 
 but you, Cristina, I believe that you hate him ! ' That is what 
 he said, reverendo — I could hear the words, and I could see the 
 expression on her face as she listened. It was the expression of 
 a devil, though it passed quickly and I do not think the other 
 one could see it. Then, one evening, it was the evening after 
 the great storm last month. But I will tell you what happened 
 during the storm first. They were alone together in the billiard- 
 room. The hail broke the windows, and the signora contessa 
 while closing the persiani was struck by a hail-stone and her arm 
 was cut. It bled, and he kissed it. I am sure that he kissed it; 
 for I came into the room suddenly and they were close to each 
 other, and there was blood on his face, near the lips, though no
 
 TEMPTATION 257 
 
 hailstone had cut him." He paused and looked at the priest 
 almost defiant!}'. 
 
 " Go on," said Don Basilio quietly. 
 
 " Well, that evening after dinner the signorino had a pain in 
 the head ; a touch of the sun while he was riding, he said ; and 
 they persuaded him to go to bed. Then they went out of doors 
 together. I knew they were togethei. In thp darkness, and I 
 made a plan. I told the boy, Cesare, that my wife had the lever, 
 and that I must go to the chemist for some saliceto. I told him 
 to explain this to the signora contessa ; but I did not go to the 
 chemist, and my wife had not got the fever. I remained hidden 
 in the garden \ and I followed them. I heard all they said, saw 
 all they did." 
 
 Don Basilio looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 "No," said Taddeo, answering his unspoken question, "no, 
 but he asked her ; and she promised that before he returned to 
 Rome she would give him all he wanted. And now, Don Basilio, 
 am I right, or am I wrong ? " 
 
 Don Basilio said nothing, but he looked very grave. 
 
 " Why will you not tell the signorino what I have told you ? " 
 asked Taddeo hastily. " He would listen to you, reverendo. I 
 have done all I can. I sent him that letter ; I do not deny it. 
 And I did more. I warned the Conte Fabrizio that evil was 
 before him, when the crucifix fell." 
 
 "That was a coincidence," said Don Basilio; and per- 
 haps he said it more because he felt he must say some- 
 thing than because he really believed the episode to have 
 been so. 
 
 Taddeo gave him a curious glance. " The crucifix fell twice," 
 he said. "That evening, of which I have been telling you, 
 when the Conte Fabrizio went to his room, he found the crucifix 
 again lying on his pillows, as it had been before. But even that 
 warning of maP augurio was not enough, since he returns to 
 complete the signorino's dishonour ! " 
 
 " But it must be prevented ! " exclaimed Don Basilio ; " other- 
 wise who knows what tragedy may not happen when the signor 
 conte discovers that he has been deceived by his nearest of kin, 
 
 R
 
 258 TEMPTATION 
 
 by the cousin whom he has trusted as he would have trusted a 
 brother ? " 
 
 " Sicuro, it must be prevented," repeated Taddeo, " but how, 
 and by whom ? The signorino would listen to you, reverendo," 
 he added, "to you and to the signora duchessa di San Felice, 
 but to others he would not Hsten ; and who else would dare to 
 tell him ? " 
 
 Don Basilio passed his hand across his eyes. " I must think, 
 Taddeo," he said. " Perhaps I can do something, but whoever 
 interferes in this matter, it must not be the signora duchessa. 
 Another woman, you understand " 
 
 Taddeo nodded. "Of course," he replied. "It is quite 
 enough that there should be one woman in the business." 
 
 "Yes," observed Don Basilio drily. "It is always enough; 
 it always has been enough, from the beginning." 
 
 And then he turned aside, and, bidding Taddeo farewell, 
 walked thoughtfully across the courtyard and let himself out of 
 the portone into the street, unnoticed by the porter who still slept 
 peacefully after his midday meal.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A WARM, golden haze lay over the land. Summei, -wom out 
 ■^^ by its passionate intensity, was dying ; but dying so gradu- 
 ally, so peacefully, that its passing was scarcely perceptible. In 
 the vineyards there were patches of bright yellow, and of fiery 
 red, where the vine leaves were putting on their autumn colouring. 
 Little brown and white birds, the beccafichi, flew from one fig tree 
 to another searching for the ripest fruit into which to [)lunge their 
 dainty beaks. As a rule men with guns lay in wait for them, to 
 slay them while their bodies were yet plump and their flesh 
 fragrant with the flavour of the figs. But to-day nobody heeded 
 them, or sought to rob them of their earthly existence. The 
 vintage had begun ; and the energies of men, women and 
 children were concentrated on plucking the bunches of purple and 
 of white grapes, on heaping them into baskets, and conveying the 
 baskets to waggons which the patient, white oxen stood waiting to 
 draw slowly away to the ii?ielli, or wine-presses. The sounds of 
 laughter and songs rang through the still September air ; of 
 harmless jests, and sometimes, but not often, an oath. 
 
 The rays of the sun were still powerful, but no longer with the 
 fierce, scorching power of August ; and the air had a lightness in 
 it which spoke of the fresher nights of autumn, cooled by the 
 heavy dews. 
 
 Ugo Vitali was in good spirits that morning as he visited 
 various parts of his property on which the vintage was being 
 carried on. A considerable portion of his land he kept in his 
 own hands ; but there were holdings which were leased on the 
 mezzadria system, by which landlord and tenant divided the pro- 
 duce of the land in equal shares. The lands of Casa Vitali were 
 altogether free from the curse of the middleman — the farming 
 out of the rents to some mercante di campagna who paid the 
 owner a fixed yearly sum and put whatever he could extract from 
 
 259
 
 260 TEMPTATION 
 
 the property over and above this sum into his own pockets. It 
 was true that the mezzadria system necessitated the constant and 
 careful supervision of the crops at the periods of harvest or 
 vintage, and a searching examination into the accounts of the 
 sales of these crops ; otherwise it was an arrangement which, 
 when scrupulously carried out both by landlord and peasant, 
 worked easily enough, and was fair and equitable to both parties. 
 
 As to the vintage of that year, it promised to be exceptionally 
 good and abundant, for there had been a notable absence of 
 hail, and the furious storm a few weeks before had fortunately 
 been very restricted in its course of devastation. So plentiful, in- 
 deed, were the grapes, that buyers had already begun to shake 
 their heads. A year or two previously, after an equally abundant 
 harvest, millions of francs had been lost. Owing to the total in- 
 capacity of the Italian railway companies to deal with the question 
 of transport, thousands upon thousands of tons of fruit which 
 ought to have been exported to form the basis of foreign wines 
 afterwards to be sold as clarets and burgundies, lay rotting on 
 quays and in the goods yards of the railway stations. And as 
 the railway organisation in the country had steadily gone from 
 bad to worse since that season, there was every prospect of even 
 greater waste in the present instance. 
 
 Notwithstanding these gloomy forebodings of official incapacity 
 Count Vitali had no reason to be otherwise than satisfied with 
 his own prospects of a successful vintage. He had already 
 disposed of a considerable quantity of his grapes when they were 
 just reaching maturity to a well-known mercante di campagna who 
 had come from Rome to take stock of the Vitali vineyards and 
 make an offer for the crop. If the grapes when despatched 
 rotted in railway stations because the authorities declined, or 
 forgot to afford facilities for their transport, this was no affair of 
 the vendor, whose contract was confined to the selling of the- 
 fruit, and not to its final delivery in good condition when once it 
 had left his vineyards. 
 
 The crops in the Puglie, and in other southern provinces, 
 whence the bulk of rough, red wine in its primary state of fer- 
 mentation is despatched to central and northern Italy to be
 
 TEMPTATION 261 
 
 " manipulated " into " Chianti vecchio " for the hotel-keepers, or 
 to foreign lands for the purpose of manufacturing spurious clarets 
 and burgundies, were, unlike those further north, reported to be 
 less satisfactory than usual ; and Count Vitali, therefore, like 
 other vine growers in his neighbourhood, had succeeded in ob- 
 taining fairly average prices for his produce. 
 
 That morning Ugo had ridden to various vineyards in which 
 his peasants were at work, and everywhere he had been received 
 with smiling faces, and salutations in which cordiality was 
 happily blended with the respect due to il padrone. His people 
 regarded him as one of themselves, and trusted him considerably 
 more than they would have trusted one of themselves. They knew 
 him to be absolutely just, both to them as workers and to himself 
 as employer, and respected him accordingly. There were plenty 
 of examples of landlords, owners of vast latifondi, who rarely or 
 never came near their properties, nor interested themselves in 
 any way in the condition of those who laboured to make their 
 lands productive. Rome, Paris, Monte Carlo swallowed up the 
 sums of money paid over by the individual who " farmed " the 
 rents ; and, so long as those sums of money were forthcoming at 
 their periods, the owner troubled himself not at all, either as to 
 the way in which his land was exhausted by over-production, or 
 as to the miserable condition in which his peasants lived. In 
 Ugo VitaH, on the contrary, the peasants recognised that they 
 had for their padrone a human being with a human heart, and not 
 a mere lay figure which, like some fetish of a barbarous people, 
 received into an insatiable maw the tribute wrung from the sweat 
 of their brows. Perhaps a certain amount of tacit sympathy for 
 their young padrone also accounted for his ever-increasing popu- 
 larity among those who worked on the lands of Casa Vitali. It 
 was rumoured that he was not happy in his marriage. The 
 peasants could well believe this rumour; inasmuch as, in their 
 eyes, a childless marriage was altogether an anomaly, and 
 scarcely likely to be happy. They had been quite prepared, 
 moreover, to dislike Countess Vitali from the first, being quite 
 aware that not only was she not nobile like their padrone, but 
 that she was the daughter of a man who had begun life in the
 
 262 TEMPTATION 
 
 same position as themselves, and who had no doubt risen in life 
 at the expense of others of his own class. The obvious indiffer- 
 ence which Cristina had displayed towards anything concerning 
 the lands of Casa Vitali, and towards those who laboured on 
 those lands, had certainly tended to confirm the dislike and 
 suspicion with which her husband's people had originally re- 
 garded her. She was looked upon as proud, and altogether un- 
 sympathetic. The country people contrasted her with the Duchessa 
 di San Felice in their minds. The duchessa, they would say to 
 each other when discussing the subject in the osterie, and round 
 their charcoal braziers during the long, winter evenings, was a 
 grande signora — a princess by birth, and the wife and mother of 
 a duke — a lady whom the sovereigns themselves and the Regina 
 Madre, when they came in their automobiles through Viterbo, had 
 more than once gone out of their way to visit at Villa Falconara. 
 And yet this great lady was not indifferent to them — certainly 
 not ! Was it not she who searched out the sick and the suffer- 
 ing and saw personally to their needs? Did she not, at Villa 
 Falconara, keep a dispensary where you could get all the 
 medicines you might get at the farmacia in Viterbo with 
 the great difference that, if you were poor, you need not pay 
 for them ? And did not she, la nostra dtichessa, as she 
 was fondly called, bring her sympathy and her consolation to 
 dwellings wherein was the bitterness of mourning and death ? 
 Mounted on her horse, or driving her pair of strong, Hungarian 
 cobs, was she not to be found, sooner or later, wherever there was 
 suffering or distress within many miles of her own dwelling ? 
 
 Sicuro ! but the Duchessa di San Felice was a vera signora — bred 
 and born — whereas " la Cristina," as some of her humbler neigh- 
 bours disrespectfully called the Contessa Vitali, was an upstart, 
 and one who before her marriage had been not a whit better than 
 themselves. Certainly the peasantry of the district in which 
 the Vitali and the San Felice estates were situated were shrewd 
 enough to know that there were probably few great ladies of 
 the aristocrazia who had the interests of her poorer fellow- 
 creatures so deeply and so practically at heart as had their 
 duchessa ; and perhaps, therefore, they were a little unfair in
 
 TEMPTATION 263 
 
 their judgment of one who, like the Contessa Vitali, had never 
 been known to interest herself in any of the numerous families 
 living upon her husband's land. Of late, however, rumour had 
 been busy ; and the gossip of the upper classes of Viterbo and 
 its immediate neighbourhood had filtered down to lower levels 
 where it lost nothing of its virulence, nor, it must be added, of 
 its suggestiveness. 
 
 Whatever may have been in the minds of his peasants, 
 however, as they greeted him in response to his easy, good- 
 humoured salutations by their names to the men, women, and 
 children he found at work among the vines, Ugo Vitali would 
 have struck a casual observer that morning as being a man as 
 free from care as he was certainly in the best of health and 
 prime of manhood. He was mounted on the chestnut horse 
 of which, a few days previously, Don Basilio had advised him 
 to get rid before it did the same by him. 
 
 The morning was yet early, and Ugo had left Palazzo Vitali 
 at an hour when both his wife and Fabrizio, who had arrived 
 two days before, were presumably still fast asleep. Had anything 
 been wanting finally to remove all lingering doubts as to whether 
 there had been the slightest ground, save that of pure malice, 
 for his anonymous correspondent's warning regarding the friend- 
 ship between his cousin and Cristina, the reception given to 
 Fabrizio by the latter would have been sufficient to accomplish 
 that object. Ugo had made a point of being at home when 
 the carriage brought his cousin from the railway station ; and, 
 though he felt ashamed of himself for doing so, he had watched 
 the meeting between his wife and Fabrizio very carefully. The 
 result had been that he was more than ever convinced of Cristina's 
 sincerity when she had so contemptuously dismissed the scarcely 
 veiled charge which the anonymous letter had contained as 
 being nothing less than ridiculous. Nothing could have been 
 more natural than the greetings which passed between the two. 
 Had these greetings been cold or indifferent, Ugo's suspicions 
 might have been again aroused. They had been neither the 
 one nor the other, however. Cristina's welcome was the cordial, 
 easy welcome of a hostess to a sympathetic guest who was also
 
 264 TEMPTATION 
 
 a relative; while Fabrizio's attitude was equally correct. 
 Countess Vitali, did not attempt to conceal her pleasure in the 
 fact that her husband's kinsman had returned to pay them 
 another visit. 
 
 " At last," she had said laughingly to Fabrizio, " we shall 
 believe that you were not bored to death when you stayed with 
 us before, shall we not, Ugo ? I confess that I have been hourly 
 expecting to receive a telegram saying that he was unavoidably 
 prevented from coming." 
 
 Ugo had secretly been delighted at the result of his observa- 
 tion of this meeting, and reproached himself more than ever 
 for having allowed even a lingering doubt to dwell in his heart. 
 Moreover, Cristina's affection for him was daily returning to 
 what it had once been in the days that had lately appeared not 
 only far off, but as if they could never be repeated. It seemed 
 as though, with the near approach of Fabrizio's return to Palazzo 
 Vitali, Cristina had wished tacitly to show him how greatly he 
 had been mistaken in his suspicions of her. She had never, 
 it was true, alluded again to these suspicions, nor to the letter 
 which had caused them. Nevertheless, in a thousand ways she 
 had shown him that her love for him was not dead, as he 
 had imagined. If at moments she was impatient and even 
 irritable, at other moments she would make amends for the 
 pain and disappointment she had doubtless read on his face. 
 And since Fabrizio's arrival she had seemed determined to show 
 him, her husband, more affection than before. 
 
 Surely, Ugo thought, as he rode through the dewy country in 
 the golden light of the September morning, the old days were 
 coming back. Perhaps, after all, the past couple of years had 
 been, as it were, a phase in his wife's character. He was more 
 certain now than ever that he was right in the theory he had 
 always held in order to account for the change in her. She had 
 become accustomed, as he had always assured himself that she 
 would do, to the disappointment and mortification of not being 
 a mother, and by degrees her former nature and temperament 
 were reasserting themselves — nay, had reasserted themselves. 
 
 In his contentment and satisfaction he had been more cordial
 
 TEMPTATION 265 
 
 than ever to his cousin Fabrizio since his return. Indeed, he 
 treated Fabrizio now as though he were a brother rather than a 
 fairly distant cousin. Fabrizio, he thought to himself, was after 
 all by no means a bad fellow, and it was ridiculous to despise a 
 man simply because that man was fond of society and had no 
 country tastes or pursuits. It was all a question of early training 
 and early surroundings. If Fabrizio had been like himself, born 
 and brought up in the country, he too, would have cared less 
 for the world and more for the pleasures of an out of door life. 
 And, after all, Fabrizio had behaved very well. Although 
 poor he had never thrust himself upon the attention of the 
 head of his family to whom he was next of kin. He had, in- 
 deed, declined more than once the invitations which he, Ugo, 
 had thought it only right to offer him. 
 
 No; it was absurd, and, worse than absurd, it was unjust to 
 suspect that Fabrizio was capable of dishonourable conduct 
 towards him, or had ever any desire to inflict upon him the 
 cruellest wrong one man can inflict on another by robbing him 
 of his wife's affection. In his heart Ugo Vitali felt a profound 
 satisfaction that all suspicion of Fabrizio's loyalty as a relative 
 and as a friend might be dismissed for ever. Had his cousin 
 been a stranger, a mere friend or acquaintance bearing another 
 name, Ugo felt that he could have borne disloyalty better than 
 he could have done had it been shown him by one of his own 
 house. At all events it would have been easier to deal with, and 
 the honour of Casa Vitali would not have been besmirched by a 
 Vitali. That would have been intolerable to the pride he 
 possessed of his race and descent. 
 
 After leaving his vineyards, Ugo cantered across a stretch of 
 open, grassy country at the extremity of which lay the wooded 
 Ciminian hills. Far away on his right the sunlight fell upon the 
 vast fagade of the Farnese palace of Caprarola, the many windows 
 of which glittered and flashed in its rays. His horse, impatient 
 at having been walked quietly along the terraces of the vineyards, 
 was eager for a gallop on feeling the turf under its hoofs and 
 seeing the green distance in front ; while its rider, exhilarated by 
 his own thoughts, and by the fresh morning air, was equally
 
 266 TEMPTATION 
 
 disposed to humour it. Ugo decided that he would ride across 
 the valley to the hills where the high road branched off through 
 the erstwhile spirit-haunted Ciminian Forest, which the legions 
 of Rome for many years dared not penetrate, to the capital city 
 some fifty miles away. From the spurs of the hillsides the 
 ancient Etrurian cities, now reduced to squalid villages, Nepi — - 
 Sutri, Ronciglione, and half a score of others — shone like yellow 
 patches in the faint, blue haze ; while in the valleys, fields and 
 vineyards lay bathed in mellow, golden light. Semi-circled by 
 woods, below the crest of one of the lower ranges of hills, Ugo 
 could see the white fagade of Villa Falconara some five miles 
 distant. A longing seized him to turn his horse's head in that 
 direction, and to pay another morning visit to Donna Vittoria, as 
 he always called her in his thoughts. She would be pleased to 
 hear how well things were going with him ; how, thanks to her 
 advice bidding him confide in his wife and let her see that he 
 trusted her, he had regained all, or nearly all, that he thought 
 had gone from him for ever. Donna Vittoria, too, would be 
 interested to hear that he had disposed of his grapes well, even 
 before the vintage had fairly commenced. 
 
 Almost unconsciously, Ugo found himself heading in the 
 direction of the stately Renaissance villa standing out from its 
 background of oak and ilex trees. Then he recollected himself, 
 and thought of what such a visit might cost him. Consciously 
 this time, he gently turned his horse in the direction he had 
 originally intended to take. There would be time enough to call 
 on Donna Vittoria. Perhaps he would even write to her. 
 Cristina evidently did not approve of his visits to Villa Falconara, 
 nor, he could not help suspecting, did she greatly approve of its 
 mistress. It was absurd, of course ; but jealousy was always 
 absurd. Supposing he allowed himself to be jealous of Fabrizio ? 
 All the same, Cristina's jealousy pleased him, and the moment 
 had not yet arrived when he could persuade her of its unreason- 
 ableness. Half an hour's talk with Donna Vittoria would 
 undoubtedly be very pleasant ; but he might have to pay too 
 large a price for it. Cristina repeatedly asked him if he had 
 again seen the Duchessa di San Felice ; and always he had been
 
 TEMPTATION 267 
 
 able to answer that he had not seen her for some weeks, because he 
 had not been to Villa Falconara. Whenever he did go there again, 
 he would announce beforehand to Cristina his intention of doing 
 so. That would be safer; and no doubt fairer to Cristina, as 
 she was evidently jealous of Donna Vittoria since the episode of 
 the anonymous letter. 
 
 Ugo cantered on ; and presently he reached the edge of the 
 broken ground covered with short turf and patched here and 
 there with juniper bushes rising from beds of asphodel long 
 bereft of its melancholy, ghostlike flowers. A rough path led 
 through the brush-wood on the lower slopes of the hills, and, 
 gradually winding upwards, formed a short cut across a wooded 
 ridge to a corresponding valley below, at the end of which, though 
 some miles away, the brown walls and campanili of Viterbo could be 
 seen crowning the rising ground. These Ciminian woods, silent at 
 all seasons of the year owing to the comparative absence of animal 
 life, were doubly silent in the September stillness. Now and again 
 came mysterious rustlings from the undergrowth as some hedge- 
 hog stirred, or a snake emerged from its hiding-place to bask in 
 the sun. Round a turn of the pathway a picturesque figure with 
 slouched hat and blackened face suddenly appeared, causing 
 Ugo's horse to shy ; a man who would certainly have been taken 
 for a brigand by an imaginative Anglo-Saxon or Teutonic tourist. 
 Count Vitali, however, was not disturbed in his mind. He knew 
 that the forbidding individual was no brigand, but a simple char- 
 coal-burner, and he wished him a friendly good day. The 
 charcoal-burner responded, courteously raising his felt hat, and 
 then he asked Ugo the time. Count Vitali looked at his watch — 
 he had forgotten all about the time in his meditations. It was 
 already half-past nine, and Ugo rode onwards. It would take 
 him more than an hour to get back to Viterbo, and he did not 
 wish to be late for breakfast. It had been settled that in the 
 afternoon they should all assist at the vintage, and Fabrizio was 
 to be given his allotted portion of work to do, as a new experience 
 for him. If he were to keep to the high road on his homeward 
 ride, Ugo calculated that he must certainly be later than he wished 
 to be. By taking a series of short cuts across the open country he
 
 268 TEMPTATION 
 
 could diminish the distance by a mile or two, while it would be 
 better " going " for his horse than on the road. 
 
 Putting the chestnut to the canter again, he soon came to the 
 end of the valley. At this spot a low dyke, now waterless but 
 during the winter rains occasionally of considerable depth, crossed 
 the valley ; and, in order to emerge at the point on the Viterbo 
 road he wished to make for, it was necessary to ride along the 
 embankment skirting the dyke. For precaution's sake Ugo 
 walked his horse along this causeway, which was scarcely more 
 than four feet in breadth. Steadied down by its canter, the 
 chestnut was pacing along quietly enough, and Ugo let the reins 
 fall loosely on its neck while he extracted a case from his pocket 
 and proceeded to light a cigarette. Suddenly, and without the 
 slightest warning, the horse gave a violent buck. Then swerving 
 to one side it lost its footing at the edge of the embankment and 
 rolled over into the dyke, bearing its rider with it. 
 
 How long he lay underneath the animal, crushed between it 
 and the side of the dyke, Ugo never knew. The last thing he 
 remembered was the sudden sensation of the horse gathering its 
 legs together underneath it, and feeling its back stiffen and arch as 
 its head went down between its knees. He remembered that, 
 and he laughed to himself as he thought that once again the 
 creature had failed to unseat him, notwithstanding all its cunning. 
 After that he had felt a sudden scramble, a shock — and then 
 nothing more. 
 
 Fortunately for Count Vitali, some peasants weeding a quarter 
 of a mile away had been watching the horseman riding slowly 
 along the top of the dyke, and as they watched they had seen 
 both horse and rider suddenly disappear. 
 
 Guessing what had occurred, they hurried up to the spot, to find 
 that the horse had rolled away from off its rider, who was lying 
 face downwards and completely unconscious at the bottom of the 
 dyke. Turning him gently on his back, some of the peasants 
 recognised Count Vitali. They stood round him talking rapidly 
 to each other, not knowing what to do for the best. Presently, 
 while everybody was offering suggestions to which nobody listened, 
 Ugo opened his eyes and looked round him. Then he tried to
 
 TEMPTATION 269 
 
 sit up, but fell back with a short groan. He was very white, but 
 he did not again lose consciousness. 
 
 "Andiamo, ragazzi!"he said, smiling at them. "You must 
 get me out of this ditch between you, seeing that apparently I am 
 unable to get myself out of it. Something hurts me. I suppose 
 I have broken a rib or two. Two of you get up to the top of the 
 bank, and two will raise me — so. Now, gently. Ah, bravo ! a 
 siamo " — and the men below deposited him in the arms of their 
 comrades above, while these in their turn gently laid him on the 
 causeway. 
 
 " And now," said Ugo quietly, " look to the horse, and see if 
 he is hurt. If he can walk, one of you lead him down the dyke 
 to the ford yonder where he can get out." 
 
 Apparently the chestnut had escaped with no more serious 
 injury than a few cuts, but the case seemed to be otherwise with 
 Count Vitali. He tried again to raise himself, and again a sharp, 
 internal pain caused him to fall back helpless. 
 
 He shook his head. " It's no use," he said ; " there is some- 
 thing wrong with me — something broken, I suppose. You must 
 carry me to the high road, and one of you must set off to Palazzo 
 Vitali in Viterbo. I am Count Vitali. You must tell them to 
 send a carriage out, at once. Wait — " and he endeavoured to 
 extract a note-book from his pocket, meaning to write a few lines 
 to his wife to tell her that he had met with a slight accident, but 
 that she was not to alarm herself. Again, however, the sudden 
 pain prevented him from moving. He was only comfortable 
 when lying at full length on his back. 
 
 "Never mind," he said. "Go as quickly as you can, and 
 bring a carriage — any carriage — back with you. You will find us 
 waiting for you on the road — there near the ford." 
 
 The youngest of the peasants darted away at full speed on his 
 mission, while Ugo looked round him. " Leave me here," he 
 said to the others, "and see if you can take that gate off its 
 hinges. If you can, bring it here, and Hft me on to it. You will 
 carry me more easily so." 
 
 The peasants did as they were bid, and one of them, the only 
 one who happened to have his coat on his back, took it off and
 
 270 TEMPTATION 
 
 did his best to arrange it on the gate as a mattress. A threadbare 
 coat, however, could do little to diminish the jolting as four of 
 the peasants carried the gate and its burden to the road. The 
 rough movement caused Ugo to feel intense pain, and what made 
 him fear that his injuries might be of a serious kind was the fact 
 that his legs seemed gradually to be growing ever colder, and 
 more numb. The time seemed endless as he lay on the gate by 
 the roadside, and, indeed, it was considerably more than an hour 
 before the noise of wheels and a cloud of dust announced that 
 the carriage was near. 
 
 They lifted Ugo into it, laying him lengthways across the seats. 
 Taddeo had accompanied the carriage, and took instant charge 
 of all the arrangements. 
 
 " Taddeo," said Ugo, a little faintly, as the carriage was being 
 rapidly driven towards Viterbo, "does the signora contessa 
 know ? " 
 
 Taddeo shook his head. "The signora contessa and the 
 signor conte Fabrizio could not be found," he said drily. " They 
 had gone out for a walk in the gardens. It would have delayed 
 the carriage had I continued to search for them." 
 
 Ugo nodded. " That is well," he said. " I shall be able to 
 tell her myself that it is a trifle. It is fortunate she and the 
 conte Fabrizio were out when the news came." 
 
 Taddeo said nothing ; but he turned his face away lest the 
 " signorino " should see its expression.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 T T was not often that Countess Vitali left her own rooms before 
 the midday breakfast. On this particular morning, how- 
 ever, she had appeared, already dressed for walking, on the 
 terrace very soon after her little tray of coffee and rolls had been 
 taken to her by her maid. As a matter of fact, she had already 
 settled the hour of her appearance when she and Fabrizio had 
 been alone for a few minutes after dinner the previous evening. 
 A morning walk in the gardens of Palazzo Vitali before the hour 
 of half-past ten or so, would, they had told each other, be their 
 only opportunity during the day of finding themselves alone to- 
 gether. Ugo would certainly have returned by breakfast time, 
 and in the afternoon they were all three to visit the vineyards and 
 take part in the vintage. There could be nothing to arouse sus- 
 picion in Fabrizio Vitali accompanying his cousin and hostess in 
 a walk on a lovely September morning. Moreover, Cristina had 
 observed to Ugo, in the presence of the servants who were wait- 
 ing at dinner, that now the mornings were much cooler, she 
 intended to be more energetic, and to walk before breakfast 
 instead of remaining within doors. 
 
 " It is a thousand pities that I do not ride," she had remarked 
 laughingly to Ugo, " for I might have accompanied you some- 
 times in your early expeditions," and Ugo had been both surprised 
 and delighted at her suggestion. 
 
 *' It would be very simple," he replied. " If you really would take 
 to riding, I would find a quiet horse to carry you — one about which 
 you would have nothing to think except how to keep him awake ! " 
 
 Cristina, however, had declared that she was only joking, and 
 that she was far too terrified of horses ever to trust herself on the 
 back of one, however quiet it might be — and although the sub- 
 ject had dropped, Ugo had been evidently gratified that his wife 
 should have even thought of it. 
 
 S71
 
 272 TEMPTATION 
 
 It could not be said that either Cristina or Fabrizio Vitali dis- 
 played any remarkable energy that morning although the air was 
 fresh enough, and the sun as yet had no excessive power. They 
 sauntered leisurely towards the far end of the gardens, and before 
 very long seated themselves on a bench in the shade of the ilex 
 avenue whence neither of them appeared to have any inclination 
 to move. 
 
 Fabrizio sat for a long time in silence. That is to say, his 
 tongue was silent, but his eyes never left his companion's face, 
 and were decidedly the more unruly members since they spoke 
 much and clearly. 
 
 Cristina was thoughtful also, and almost as silent. She sat and 
 traced little patterns on the gravel with the point of her sunshade, 
 now and again glancing at Fabrizio with a peculiar, slow smile, 
 that rivetted his eyes on her face more closely than ever. 
 
 " Do you remember," she said at length, " when before you 
 went to Rome, you were angry with me, and told me that I did 
 not keep my promises?" 
 
 " Was it not natural ? you did not keep them," replied Fabrizio, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " But now ? have I not kept them ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! but, Cristina — it was time. If you could know how 
 I have suffered " 
 
 " I have suffered too," said Cristina, and their eyes met again. 
 
 " All the same," she added, " now I am afraid." 
 
 " Afraid ! " exclaimed Fabrizio, " and of what — of whom ? 
 ofUgo?" 
 
 Cristina shook her head. "No," she answered, "not of Ugo, 
 but of you ! " 
 
 "Of me?" 
 
 " Of you. You are a man. You have got what you wanted ; 
 and some day — oh, not to-day, nor to-morrow, nor even next 
 year, perhaps — you will grow weary of what you have got, and 
 you will seek some excuse for casting it away." 
 
 " Giamtnai ! " exclaimed Fabrizio indignantly. " How can you 
 say such horrible things, Cristina — think such horrible thoughts ? 
 Have we not both reflected well ? God knows that I have re-
 
 TEMPTATION 273 
 
 fleeted all those weeks during which I have been away from you. 
 For your sake I have risked everything — I have deceived Ugo 
 who trusts me — " he stopped abruptly, with a sharp, quick 
 sigh. 
 
 Countess Vitali looked at him keenly. Then she smiled. 
 " Surely," she said, " knowing what you know, you may make 
 your conscience easy as regards deceiving Ugo ! We have both 
 deceived him — shall always deceive him ; as he has deceived us." 
 
 Fabrizio's face cleared. " Yes," he said eagerly ; " Ugo has 
 no cause — no right to complain. I say it to myself always — since 
 I have understood what your life really is, and why he married 
 you." 
 
 Cristina sighed. " Yes," she said. " I did not understand at 
 first, Fabrizio. How should I? I had no experience of the 
 world. As to the San Felice I accepted her friendship as genuine 
 — disinterested. It was only afterwards that I knew. Then you 
 came into my hfe." 
 
 " Povera la mia Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio caressingly. 
 " And you do not regret that I have come into your Hfe — no ? " 
 
 Cristina smiled. " I do not regret it," she replied ; " but, as I 
 said just now, I am afraid. Until yesterday, I was not afraid. 
 I had not given you all you asked of me. I felt that you were 
 bound to me — by the bonds of a love that was yet unsatisfied. 
 But now — who knows ? Perhaps I have loosened those bonds. 
 But it was the joy of seeing you again, Fabrizio, that made me 
 weak — that made me yield. Ah, if you could know what I have 
 suffered lately — with Ugo ! It has been torture — torture, I tell 
 you. Sometimes I would shut my eyes and try to pretend that it 
 was you who were beside me — you, whose kisses I felt ; but — I 
 tell you it was torture," she repeated excitedly, " and it always 
 will be torture, until — " and she broke off abruptly. 
 
 " Until — what ? " asked Fabrizio. His face was troubled. 
 He had not foreseen this complication. In thinking of his own 
 passion he had forgotten, or scarcely realised, the actual position 
 of the woman he had desired to possess. " I thought," he 
 continued hesitatingly, "that you and Ugo were — well, were 
 
 no longer " 
 
 s
 
 274 TEMPTATION 
 
 " You do not understand ! " interrupted Cristina quickly. 
 " How should you understand ? To shield you, I am obliged 
 to submit to his passion — not to his love, for that belongs to 
 the San Felice, and not to me. It has never belonged to me. 
 And not only do I have to submit to it, but I have to encourage 
 it — in order that he may not suspect, and that your life and 
 prospects may not be ruined because you and I love each other. 
 Can you not understand the torture ? There is no escape 
 from it — none ; for escape would mean the discovery of our 
 love, and your ruin." 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " That is horrible — cruel ! 
 What can I do, Dio mio ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! I should not have told you. Only, I wished you 
 to know what I suffer for your sake, Fabrizio. Do you wonder 
 that I feel afraid when I think that, some day, having tired of 
 me you might cast me off? Men do that, you know. How 
 can I tell that, if my escape were to come — if some unexpected 
 circumstance set me free — you would repay me for what I suffer 
 now ? " 
 
 " Bat you do feel it — you must feel it ! " burst out Fabrizio. 
 '* Do you think that I am a mascalzone, Cristina ? If you were 
 free, we would marry, would we not? For my part, I swear 
 that I would marry you, and no other woman — for the sake of 
 my love for you, and for my honour." 
 
 " Ah," said Countess Vitali, " honour — that is an elastic term." 
 
 Fabrizio winced. " What do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " I mean, that very often men are cruel and unjust to women 
 m order to protect what they call their honour, or the honour 
 of their family." 
 
 " Not where men love, and know that they are loved," re- 
 turned Fabrizio. 
 
 Cristina shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "In any case," he continued, earnestly, "if you are afraid, 
 you are wronging me. Have I not sworn to you just now that 
 if by some chance you were to be free, I would marry you ? And 
 if you are never free — well, we must live for each other as best 
 we can. Ugo evidently does not mean to continue living the life
 
 TEMPTATION 275 
 
 he has hitherto obliged you to lead. You will come to Rome, 
 and live in the world — and in the world people who are sensible 
 can make their own lives and their own opportunities for en- 
 joying those lives." 
 
 Cristina let her eyes rest full on his face, and her gaze seemed 
 to hold his own spell-bound. 
 
 " You swear that if I were one day to be free, you would 
 marry me ? " she asked. 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 Cristina was silent for a moment. " I am not afraid any 
 more," she said presently. She rose from the bench, and 
 walked slowly down the ilex avenue with Fabrizio by her side. 
 "Ugo will probably have returned," Cristina observed, as they 
 turned into a viale leading towards the house. " There is the 
 clock striking half-past ten," she added. 
 
 As they approached the house, the porter came hastily towards 
 them. 
 
 " Signora contessa," he said, " the signer conte has met 
 with an accident — a fall from his horse. The carriage has gone 
 to bring him home and Taddeo has gone with it. 
 
 Countess Vitali's face flushed suddenly, and then turned very 
 white. 
 
 " An accident ? " she repeated, mechanically. " Is it — 
 serious?" 
 
 "A peasant brought the news," the porter replied; "the 
 signer conte sent him — and he was to say that the accident was 
 not grave. But the signor conte cannot walk — and who knows ? 
 That cursed horse ! the signore would ride it, and every one said 
 that sooner or later there would be a disgrazta." 
 
 Fabrizio and Cristina looked at each other in silence, and the 
 same thought was in their minds. It was strange how in an 
 instant — in a flash — the whole of life could change. Fabrizio 
 was conscious of feeling a genuine sorrow. Ugo had always 
 been good to him. That was the worst of it. He wished now 
 that his cousin had not been so. He looked at Cristina guiltily, 
 and searched in vain for words, but none would come to his 
 Ups.
 
 276 TEMPTATION 
 
 "Taddeo looked for the signora contessa before starting 
 with the carriage," said the porter, surprised at the silence 
 between them, "and we have sent for Doctor Sacchetti and 
 begged him to come at once, so as to be here when the signor 
 conte arrives." 
 
 "Sarchctti?" repeated Countess Vitali. "At this hour he 
 will not be at his house — he spends the mornings at the hospital." 
 
 " It is to the hospital we have sent," explained the porter. 
 " The signor dottore will certainly come at once, for he and the 
 signor conte, poveretto, are great friends. Scusino, signori" he 
 added. " I think I hear the carriage in the distance. I will 
 return to iht portone." 
 
 " Yes, yes, go ! " said Cristina impatiently ; and, followed by 
 Fabrizio, she hurriedly ascended the steps leading up to the 
 terrace and went into the house. 
 
 In a few minutes the dull rumble of the carriage wheels enter- 
 ing the courtyard re-echoed through Palazzo Vitali, and Countess 
 Vitali and Fabrizio were at the entrance door. Ugo smiled when 
 he saw his wife. "It is nothing, Cristina," he said, "do not 
 alarm yourself I think I may have broken a rib, perhaps — but 
 nothing more serious." 
 
 Cristina's face which had been fixed and set as marble changed 
 suddenly as she heard his words. 
 
 " You are sure ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 "Of course. That devil of a horse bucked as usual, and then 
 he must needs fall on the top of me into a ditch." Ugo's voice 
 was weak, and his face betrayed signs of the pain he had endured 
 during the rapid drive homeward. He was lifted carefully out of 
 the carriage under Taddeo's superintendence, and carried up to 
 his own room. 
 
 "There is one thing I forgot," he said, as they laid him gently 
 on the bed. " That gate, somebody must see that it is replaced, 
 for there is stock in those fields. And, Cristina, you will send 
 money to those peasants who helped me. But for them, I 
 should be still lying at the bottom of that ditch." 
 
 He had scarcely been settled on the bed when Dr Sacchetti 
 hastily entered the room ; a little, nervous man with iron-grey hair
 
 TEMPTATION 277 
 
 and beard, and quick, intelligent eyes. Doctor Sacchetti was well 
 known not only in Viterbo where he was the leading surgeon, 
 but also enjoyed a considerable reputation among his fellow- 
 doctors in Rome. He knew Count Vitali intimately, and the two 
 had a mutual respect for one another. 
 
 " Perbacco, conte ! " he exclaimed cheerfully, as he went up 
 to the bedside. "What have you been doing to yourself? 
 They tell me you have fallen from your horse — you I I cannot 
 believe it." 
 
 As he spoke he looked searchingly into Ugo's face, and then 
 his eyes travelled critically downwards. 
 
 In a few words Ugo explained what had happened. " I have 
 a sharp pain when I try to sit up," he said, "but what I mind 
 more than the pain is the coldness and numbness in my legs," 
 
 " Shock," said Dr Sacchetti briefly. " It would be a more 
 serious affair, probably, if you felt no pain. Signora contessa, I 
 fear I must ask you to retire while I make a little examination. 
 Everybody, please, will retire, and you," turning to Taddeo, " will 
 remain." 
 
 "Go and have some breakfast — Cristina, you and Fabrizio," 
 said Ugo to his wife. " The doctor will join you later, and tell 
 you that I have given you a fright for nothing at all. It is 
 unfortunate, for I shall certainly not be able to accompany you to 
 the vineyards this afternoon, and I had been looking forward to 
 seeing Fabrizio in a blouse, picking the grapes ! " 
 
 " Conte," observed Doctor Sacchetti, " you will have the kind- 
 ness not to talk, except when I ask you to answer a question. 
 Signora contessa, may I ask you to leave us at once ? in these 
 cases the sooner we learn what may be amiss, the better." 
 
 The room emptied at once after this. Countess Vitali and 
 Fabrizio went to the drawing-room and presently the doors of the 
 dining-room were opened by the footman, who announced that 
 breakfast was served. Cristina told the lad to leave the dishes on 
 the table and not to wait. She and Fabrizio went through a 
 form of eating, but Cristina scarcely took her eyes off the clock 
 standing on a console opposite to her chair. The minutes crept 
 by, and the clock had twice chimed the quarters before the
 
 278 TEMPTATION 
 
 doctor appeared. In the meantime, the two had said little to 
 each other. Fabrizio watched Cristina's face curiously, and 
 wondered what her thoughts could be. His own were in a state 
 of absolute confusion. Supposing Ugo were to be maimed — 
 crippled for life? that would mean the same for Cristina and 
 himself as if Ugo were to recover, and the accident prove to 
 be nothing but a temporary inconvenience. But if Ugo were 
 to die? The doctor was a long time making his examination, 
 what if he had discovered some severe internal injuries that he 
 suspected would prove fatal ? 
 
 Fabrizio recoiled from this latter thought. It would be 
 terrible if Ugo should die like that — struck down in the prime of 
 life and in a moment of perfect health. Had it been an illness — 
 well, every one was liable to contract a fatal illness — those things 
 formed the chances of war, as it were. And Ugo had been good 
 to him — always good to him. No, he did not want Ugo to die from 
 a sudden accident. It would be unnatural — terrible. 
 
 Cristina's face told him nothing. It was an impenetrable mask. 
 Only the expression of her eyes as she had watched the hands of 
 the clock betrayed that she was a prey to consuming anxiety. 
 Long before the doctor's appearance they had risen from the 
 breakfast-table ; to which, indeed, they had sat down more from 
 force of habit than from any inclination to eat of things upon it. 
 
 Doctor Sacchetti advanced towards them, and his face was 
 grave, but not, Fabrizio thought, by any means despairing. 
 
 " Ebbene, signora contessa," he said, " there are no broken 
 bones — no ; but all the same, the count will have to be careful — 
 very careful for some days. I have made my examination, and I 
 find — " he paused for a moment. 
 
 " What ? " asked Cristina abruptly. 
 
 " I will explain to you," continued Doctor Sacchetti quietly. 
 " If the count had fallen on his head, he would now be suffering 
 from a concussion of the brain. The case would be simpler than 
 it is. He is suffering from internal injuries, caused by the weight 
 of the horse's body. I have found nothing to lead me to believe 
 that these injuries are dangerous in themselves. Indeed, I 
 believe that they are not so, and that with perfect repose and
 
 TEMPTATION 279 
 
 proper treatment the count will recover from them in a com- 
 paratively short time. But one cannot be sure of how things will 
 go — not, at any rate, for some few days. Some comjjlication, 
 unforeseen at present, might arise unexpectedly to upset all our 
 calculations. That is the danger in these cases of visceral con- 
 cussion. Of course, signora contessa, we shall do our best to 
 guard against any complication; and you need not be unduly 
 anxious, for there is nothing at present to be alarmed about. 
 Complete repose, and the treatment I shall give, should easily 
 work a cure in the case of so healthy a man as Count Vitali. Of 
 course, if certain complications were to arise, such as internal in- 
 flammation for instance, I should be more uneasy than I am; 
 and, in that case, I should prefer to summon a colleague from 
 Rome for a consultation." 
 
 "I understand," said Countess Vitalia quietly; "you see no 
 present cause for alarm, but sudden complications might arise 
 which would greatly increase the danger of — of a fatal result. Is 
 not this your meaning, signor professore ? " 
 
 The professor, for he had the right to that distinction which 
 he had gained by virtue of his successful contributions to the 
 literature of scientific research, looked at her with some surprise 
 at her calmness of voice and manner. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " that is precisely what I mean. I am glad 
 to see, contessa, that you do not underrate the possible — I say, 
 possible — gravity of the case. It is as well always to be prepared 
 for emergencies, though we may have every reason to believe 
 that they will not present themselves." 
 
 "And may one ask, signoi professore, what your treatment 
 will be ? " demanded Countess Vitali. " I shall take upon myself, 
 of course, to see that it is strictly carried out." 
 
 Doctor Sacchetti rubbed his hands. Countess Vitali, he 
 thought, seemed to be a sensible woman — more sensible than he 
 had been led to suppose. 
 
 "As to the treatment," he replied, "for the present it will 
 be very simple. Complete repose — as I say — and the most 
 careful dieting. The count, I fear, will suffer more pain in a few 
 hours' time than he does at present. I have given him an injec-
 
 280 TEMPTATION 
 
 tion of morfina to quiet the system ; and, should the pain become 
 severe enough to make him restless, these injections must be 
 repeated — strictly according to my directions. I can send you 
 an znferviiere — one of my men from the hospital, if you wish — 
 though I do not know that there is any absolute necessity for the 
 signor conte to have a nurse at present. I mentioned the subject 
 to him, and the idea seemed to annoy him. He declares that 
 his servant can do everything for him, and I do not wish to 
 excite him in any way. A stranger might do more harm than 
 good. Is your servant, Taddeo — I think he is called — a reliable 
 man ? " 
 
 "Certainly," replied Cristina, "and I, signor professore, am 
 also a reliable woman. I should not wish to leave my husband 
 to the care of a servant, or even of a nurse — unless, of course, 
 you see any objection to my being with him. I am sure that a 
 strange face would be unpleasant to him. As you say the treat- 
 ment is of the most simple, I imagine that I shall be competent 
 to carry it out — under your supervision, of course." 
 
 " Benissimo," answered Doctor Sacchetti. " The only part of 
 my treatment which might be troublesome to you is the injections 
 of morfina. These, however, if they have to be repeated, I will 
 do myself, lest there should be any mistake." 
 
 " Can the morfina not be given by mouth ? " asked Cristina. 
 
 The professor shook his head. " Not in this case," he said. 
 " We must do nothing to irritate the internal organs. That is 
 why I prefer to inject it, if necessary. The effect is much more 
 rapid, and the risks are considerably lessened, if not altogether 
 avoided." 
 
 Cristina looked at him attentively while he was speaking. 
 " You see how ignorant I am," she said, with a slight smile. 
 "But, so far as the nursing is concerned, that at least I can 
 superintend. Taddeo is devoted to my husband, yes, but he is 
 certainly more ignorant than I. Ugo has never been ill, and he 
 might rebel against a rigime of strict diet. There would always 
 be the danger of his ordering Taddeo to bring him something 
 which he should not have, and the man would probably obey 
 him."
 
 TEMPTATION 281 
 
 "Exactly !" agreed the professor. "That is always the danger 
 in nursing when it is left to servants. They are apt to regard 
 doctors' orders as storle, and doctors themselves as assassins. I 
 shall be quite satisfied, signora contessa, at all events as matters 
 now stand, to feel that you are here to see that my instructions 
 are carried out to the letter. If I see any reason to send an 
 infermiere from the hospital, you may be sure that I shall do so, 
 and Count Vitali must submit to his presence. I need hardly 
 tell you that all agitation must be avoided ; and that the less our 
 patient talks, the better. I have given the servant all instructions, 
 and for the present Count Vitali must be left perfectly quiet. 
 The morfina I have given him will, I hope, induce sleep, which 
 will be the best of all remedies to begin with. Later, he will 
 require a little nourishment. That, also, I have written down. 
 I shall return this afternoon, about five o'clock, and take the 
 temperature. It is now less than normal, owing to shock. I 
 trust we shall have no symptoms of fever, though there is sure 
 to be a rise of temperature between four and six o'clock." 
 
 Doctor Sacchetti declined breakfast, and hurried back to his 
 hospital where he worked from early in the morning to midday, 
 after which he devoted himself to his private practice. 
 
 " Do you really mean to nurse Ugo ? " Fabrizio asked, after 
 the door had closed upon the doctor. 
 
 "Why not?" returned Cristina, and there was a touch of 
 defiance in her voice. Fabrizio did not reply. It was impossible 
 to read Cristina's thoughts. Did she, or did she not feel this 
 sudden occurrence which, however cautious Doctor Sacchetti 
 might be in his language, might undoubtedly lead to a condition 
 of things that so short a time previously she had qualified as an 
 escape from her present position ? 
 
 "It is a horrible thing," he exclaimed suddenly. "I wish to 
 God it had never happened, Cristina ! " 
 
 She turned and looked at him penetratingly. " Do you 
 really wish that?" she asked. Think what — what Ugo's death 
 would mean to you. Perhaps it is destiny, this accident. Who 
 knows ? " 
 
 Fabrizio turned quickly away from her. " Before God,
 
 282 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina, I swear that I had forgotten all that it would 
 mean to me — I never thought of it until this moment ; 
 I do not wish to think of it, for I should feel myself like a 
 murderer. Why do you remind me of it — why have you always 
 reminded me of it ? I was thinking of the difference it would 
 make to us — to our position. The other is nothing ; and I wish 
 that Ugo and I bore different names and had nothing to do 
 with each other. Do you not care, Cristina? do you not care 
 at all that he lies there — so suddenly struck down — and that at 
 any moment some little thing may place his life in danger?" 
 
 " I care for you, and for you only," replied Cristina in a low 
 voice. "I am quite honest, you see. Ugo killed my love for 
 him. He might have had it, but he killed it. You know why he 
 married me, and I, who know it also, can you expect me 
 honestly to say that I care ? I am sorry, yes, deeply sorry, and 
 shocked, if you like, and I shall do my duty to the man who 
 is my husband. But I do not care in the sense that you mean. 
 The Duchessa di San Felice, perhaps, will do that, when the 
 news reaches her." 
 
 A sudden wave of repugnance swept through Fabrizio's heart — 
 a repugnance which for the moment was physical as well as 
 moral. 
 
 " You are hard," he said simply. 
 
 "I am just. If something liad happened to me, would Ugo 
 have cared — in that way — so long as the San Felice lived ? He 
 would have been sorry — shocked, as I am sorry and shocked. 
 But that is compassion, natural sympathy for one in misfortune ; 
 it is not love." 
 
 Fabrizio experienced a certain sense of relief, and immediately 
 he reproached himself for having misjudged her. After all, she 
 was honest. How could she love Ugo ? and was he, Fabrizio, to 
 blame her for loving him ? 
 
 "Forgive me!" he said, "I did not understand. Of course 
 there is a difference ! But I am glad you feel it, Cristina, and 
 I am glad that you are shocked. I should not have liked to 
 think that you fell nothing. It would be unnatural — inhuman — to 
 feel nothing."
 
 TEMPTATION 283 
 
 " But of course ! only, do not expect me to feel as I should feel 
 if I loved. I could not — and you could not expect me to do so. 
 Can you not understand, Fabrizio ? In my life I have loved no 
 one but you, and nothing, nothing can be to me as our love — 
 yours and mine. Some day, perhaps, you will understand better." 
 
 She spoke with an earnestness and a sincerity which would 
 have convinced a far more doubting man than Fabrizio; and, 
 indeed, for once at any rate in her life Cristina spoke the truth. 
 
 "There is another thing that I must say to you, Cristina," 
 Fabrizio began. 
 
 "Another misunderstanding?" 
 
 "I hope not — I think not. Now that this has happened, I 
 cannot stay on here. You must see that for yourself. It would 
 be impossible. To-morrow I must return to Rome, and wait." 
 
 "Fabrizio !" exclaimed Cristina. " What are you saying ? It 
 is absurd. You have got some scruple in your head. You are 
 full of scruples — I have always told you so. It is not worth 
 while — and besides, they come too late — now ! " 
 
 But Fabrizio Vitali was obstinate. " I cannot stay here, alone 
 with you," he said firmly. "I will not, Cristina. With Ugo 
 lying ill, do you think I should not feel that I was wronging him 
 doubly ? It is a scruple, if you like, and perhaps I am illogical, 
 but to be in Ugo's house now — to be eating his bread while he is 
 helpless and perhaps in danger of his life — no ! You must let me 
 go. If anything happened to Ugo, we should be glad, afterwards, 
 that I did not remain here. We are neither of us strong enough, 
 Cristina, less strong than ever now. And if — no ! it would be 
 too cowardly, too vile ! " 
 
 For a moment a look of terrible anger swept across Countess 
 Vitali's face. Her eyes contracted and her whole body trembled 
 with passion. 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed, "already, Fabrizio, already? I had 
 not expected that you would leave me so soon ! " 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her in dismay. " Cristina ! " he cried, 
 " per carita 1 Are you mad ? Cannot you see that I must go — 
 for your sake and for my own ? And Ugo, what would he think 
 if I remained ? it would make him, and everybody, suspect 1 "
 
 284 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina swept past him and began to walk rapidly up and 
 down the room. Presently she came towards him and seizing 
 his hand pressed it to her lips. Her anger had disappeared and 
 her face and manner were equally composed. 
 
 " Forgive me, Fabrizio mio," she said softly. " Forgive me ! 
 Yes, you are right, you must certainly go ! I will tell Ugo, the — 
 servants — that you are going to-morrow. Only, the thought that 
 we must be separated again so soon upset me and made me say 
 foolish things — unjust things. No, go, amore mio, go ! Perhaps 
 it will not be for very long. Ugo must either recover, or — " 
 and she paused abruptly. " In either case," she continued, " you 
 would return to Palazzo Vitali. In the one case as guest ; but 
 in the other — in the other, Fabrizio, as master of all — of me ! " 
 She broke off with a sob in her voice. "Now we must leave 
 each other," she said presently. " I must go to Ugo, and relieve 
 Taddeo who has never left him. We shall meet later, if all is 
 well. Sacchetti must find me with Ugo when he comes again 
 at five o'clock." And without another word she went quickly 
 from the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 npHREE days had now elapsed since Ugo Vitali's mishap. 
 -*■ As Doctor Sacchetti had at once discovered in the course 
 of his preliminary examination, Ugo was suffering from internal 
 concussion consequent upon having fallen beneath his horse. 
 When he returned to Palazzo Vitali on the evening of the acci- 
 dent, the doctor found that, as he had anticipated, his patient's 
 temperature had risen from the normal thirty-seven degrees to 
 within a point or two of thirty-eight. The pain, too, which had 
 at first only manifested itself when Ugo tried to raise himself 
 into a sitting posture, had become more or less incessant. This 
 state of things, however, had not continued. After a few 
 hours the temperature had fallen again, to Professor Sacchetti's 
 great satisfaction. It was evident that, for the present at any 
 rate, there was no fever, the temporary rise having been almost 
 inevitable after the shock Count Vitali had received. Neverthe- 
 less, that rise had been somewhat higher than the doctor had 
 liked; and he was by no means satisfied that Ugo had not 
 sustained some internal injury which might at any moment cause 
 more serious symptoms to develop themselves. 
 
 Although Ugo still complained of pain, and occasionally of 
 nausea, his temperature had not again risen to more than three or 
 four points above the normal, and Doctor Sacchetti argued that 
 therefore no serious mischief was going on, and that it might be 
 hoped Count Vitali would, after a few days' complete rest and 
 treatment, lose every disquieting symptom. The professor had 
 found, indeed, when he visited his patient on the third day, that 
 both the pain and the occasional fits of nausea had considerably 
 diminished, though they had by no means entirely disappeared. 
 
 Countess Vitali had been indefatigable in her constant 
 attendance upon her husband, and the doctor had no reason to 
 complain that his instructions were not punctually carried out. 
 
 38s
 
 286 TEMPTATION 
 
 Nothing would induce Ugo to consent to having an infermiere. 
 Indeed, Doctor Sacchetti had at once abstained from pressing 
 the point when he saw that the idea of being nursed by a stranger 
 was so distasteful to his patient. 
 
 Although he had every reason to be fairly satisfied with the 
 progress Count Vitali was making, the professor was extremely 
 cautious in his statements. Countess Vitali, evidently, was a 
 sensible woman, he thought, and it was not necessary to conceal 
 from her the fact that it was not yet time to assert definitely 
 that all danger of possible complications might be considered as 
 past. There was still pain, and there was still, occasionally, that 
 sensation of nausea which showed the internal organs to be 
 always suffering from "commotion," though in a lesser degree. 
 Countess Vitali herself was the first to ask the professor whether 
 all danger could be considered at an end until these symptoms 
 had ceased, and she had risen in his estimation accordingly. 
 He was fully alive to the necessity for caution in similar cases. 
 Carelessness in following the treatment he had prescribed, or the 
 slightest imprudence in the matter of diet might, he assured 
 Cristina, yet produce the gravest complications. 
 
 Up to the present there was certainly no occasion for him 
 to summon another opinion from Rome. All that was needed 
 was judicious treatment, and careful watching for any unfavour- 
 able symptom which might point to the existence of some internal 
 lesion which, owing to the nature of the accident, might have 
 been apprehended. 
 
 In the meantime, Fabrizio Vitali had taken his departure and 
 returned to Rome. Countess Vitali had promised him that she 
 would keep him regularly informed of Ugo's state. He had left 
 the day after the accident. Notwithstanding her anger when he 
 had first declared that he could not remain at Palazzo Vitali 
 while Ugo was lying ill, Cristina had afterwards appeared to be 
 almost feverishly anxious that her lover should go. When Ugo 
 was able to get about again Fabrizio would, of course, return to 
 complete his visit which had been so suddenly interrupted ; but 
 until then, as Cristina assured him, it was better that he should 
 not be at Palazzo Vitali.
 
 TEMPTATION 287 
 
 Fabrizio himself had been greatly relieved at this sudden 
 change in her attitude. It was illogical, no doubt, but though 
 he had not allowed his scruples to prevent him from deceiving 
 Ugo, he felt he could not continue to do so at this particular 
 juncture. At least by going away he would be placing himself 
 out of temptation. It pleased him to think that Cristina, after a 
 few moments' opposition, had arrived at the same conclusion, 
 and that she had not striven to keep him at Palazzo Vitali. 
 There would be something heartless, almost brutal, in their 
 being together while Ugo was stricken down by an accident of 
 which the doctor was as yet unable to state the severity or 
 possible consequences. Cristina, he told himself, was doing 
 right in devoting herself to Ugo at such a moment — however 
 much Ugo might have deceived her and made her Hfe unhappy. 
 If anything were to happen — any unlucky termination to this 
 accident — they would both be glad to feel that their conduct had 
 not been utterly unfeeling and heartless. 
 
 The news of what had befallen Count Vitali had naturally 
 spread far and wide, and the porter at Palazzo Vitali was kept 
 busily employed in answering the many inquiries made at the 
 portone of the palace. 
 
 Among the first to make these inquiries was the Duchessa di 
 San Felice who, accompanied by Don Basilio, drove from Villa 
 Falconara late the same afternoon and arrived at Palazzo Vitali at 
 the moment when Professor Sacchetti was leaving it after having 
 paid his second visit to his patient. 
 
 The account he gave to the duchessa was perhaps a little more 
 unsatisfactory than his report to Countess Vitali. He did not like 
 to commit himself to an opinion at so early a stage, he told 
 Vittoria, who detained him for some minutes by the side of her 
 pony-phaeton. Vittoria di San Felice had asked if Countess 
 Vitali would care to see her, and had been informed that she was 
 in close attendance upon the signor conte and could receive no 
 one. The porter, garrulous as most of his kind, had further 
 volunteered the information that the Conte Fabrizio was leaving 
 early the following morning for Rome; and at that piece of 
 intelligence Vittoria and Don Basilio had exchanged a rapid
 
 288 TEMPTATION 
 
 glance which they afterwards hoped had passed unnoticed both 
 by the porter and by Professor Sacchetti who was Hstening to the 
 conversation. 
 
 Vittoria left a pencilled note saying that should Countess 
 Vitali like to see her, she would come over at any time ; and that 
 Don Basilio would come to Count Vitali whenever he might be 
 better and allowed to receive a visitor. 
 
 In the meantime Cristina's attendance upon her husband was 
 of so close a character as to excite surprise in the small household 
 at Palazzo Vitali ; while it also had the effect of arousing some 
 indignation on the part of Taddeo, wlio saw in it a want of 
 confidence on the signora contessa's part in his own zeal and 
 trustworthiness. 
 
 Nobody could deny, however, that Countess Vitali was a 
 devoted nurse who spared herself neither trouble nor fatigue. 
 Professor Sacchetti himself complimented her upon the way in 
 which his instructions were carried out, and he experienced a 
 genuine satisfaction when he felt able to tell her that, as the third 
 day had now passed without any specially disquieting symptoms 
 having shown themselves, he was beginning to be more confident 
 that no complications would arise. Anxiety had indeed, been 
 apparent on Countess Vitali's face ever since her husband had 
 met with his accident, and Doctor Sacchetti had noticed that, as 
 the days passed, this anxiety certainly did not seem to diminish. 
 There was none of that sudden reaction to hopefulness which in 
 most cases succeeds a grave anxiety which circumstances have 
 tended to lighten. The professor, therefore, was all the more 
 pleased that the moment had come when he felt justified in 
 speaking words which should relieve, at any rate to a certain 
 extent. Countess Vitali's mind. 
 
 To his surprise his more confident manner and report did not 
 have the effect he had anticipated. On the contrary, Countess 
 Vitali's anxiety seemed rather to be increased than otherwise by 
 his cautious, though decidedly encouraging view of his patient's 
 case. He came to the conclusion that the contessa must be a 
 person of a temperament the reverse of sanguine ; and he reflected 
 that, after all, perhaps such temperaments were advantageous to
 
 TEMPTATION 289 
 
 their possessors, as being less likely to plunge them into 
 subsequent disappointments. 
 
 But neither Doctor Sacchetti, nor anybody else at Palazzo 
 Vitali could guess that Cristina was in very truth a prey to an 
 anxiety which was as poignant as it was ceaseless. As the hours 
 passed, and her husband showed no signs of becoming radically 
 worse, this anxiety became almost intolerable. She was thankful 
 that Fabrizio had gone. He, and he only, might have suspected 
 its sources, to others it would in all probability appear natural, 
 legitimate, if somewhat exaggerated. 
 
 When Doctor Sacchetti would produce his thermometer and 
 carefully take his patient's temperature, which he did regularly at 
 his morning and evening visit, it was with difficulty that she could 
 compose her features to the proper expression of satisfaction when 
 the encouraging results were announced. She found herself 
 longing, almost praying some sudden rise which should send the 
 mercury well above the red cypher of thirty-seven marking the 
 normal point and tell of the presence of some such organic 
 mischief as she had been warned might declare itself. 
 
 And as the hours lengthened into days and yet no traces of 
 " complications " — that mysterious word to which Doctor Sacchetti 
 was for ever returning — showed themselves, Countess Vitali's 
 anxiety racked her more and more. 
 
 There were hours, of course, when it was possible to leave 
 Ugo alone. Indeed, the doctor was particularly anxious that he 
 should sleep as much and as often as possible ; and to this end 
 he had administered the injections of morphia as frequently as he 
 had deemed advisable. At these times Cristina would seek a 
 refuge in the gallery, which nobody ever entered to disturb her 
 solitude. There she would pace restlessly up and down, seeking 
 to solve the problem which entirely occupied her mind. How 
 nearly her longing, that longing which she was now able calmly 
 to admit to herself, had been fulfilled, how simple everything 
 would be had it actually been so ! Ugo's accident might so 
 easily have been fatal. Nobody would have been to blame except 
 himself for his obstinacy in continuing to ride a vicious horse. 
 And she would have been free, free to live out her life with a man 
 
 T
 
 290 TEMPTATION 
 
 she really loved, who would allow her to live that life as she 
 pleased. 
 
 Fabrizio had sworn that, were she free, he would marry her, 
 and Cristina knew that she could hold him to his word. 
 
 That afternoon — the afternoon on which the doctor had for 
 the first time spoken with an almost assured confidence in his 
 patient's speedy recovery — she had fled from her husband's room 
 lest he or Taddeo should read her face, and had gone straight to 
 the gallery where she knew she would be undisturbed. Every- 
 thing, she thought to herself, was going right, when with her 
 whole soul she was longing that it should go wrong. Ugo's 
 strength and robust constitution would triumph. There would 
 be no complications — every hour that passed made it less 
 probable that any would supervene. It was useless to be anxious, 
 useless to give way to that strange sense of disappointment from 
 which she would even a few weeks ago have shrunk as from a 
 thought she feared to put into words. Fate was going to be too 
 strong for her. 
 
 In her restless walk up and down the gallery which was 
 partially darkened by the closed persiennes she would stop now 
 and again beneath the portrait of Donna Giulia. Sometimes, 
 almost unconsciously, she would address it. It seemed to be 
 something human which could interpret her thoughts and 
 sympathise with the terrible anxiety which was consuming her. 
 
 It was certainly strange, she told herself, that this afternoon, 
 when anxiety was giving way to a bitter certainty that Fate 
 refused to help her to freedom, the portrait should seem to be 
 more human — more alive — than it had ever seemed before. It 
 was imagination, of course ; but Donna Giulia's eyes appeared 
 to be smiling scornfully, and the red lips, which contrasted so 
 vividly with the faded flesh tints of the face, seemed to sneer at 
 her impotence with a conscious superiority which was maddening. 
 
 "You can afford to sneer," Cristina exclaimed suddenly, as 
 she paused and looked at the portrait. " Yes, you can aff'ord to 
 sneer, because you found a way. I can find none ! " and she 
 did not know that she spoke the words aloud. 
 
 All at once, as though a flash had illumined the innermost
 
 TEMPTATION 291 
 
 recesses of her brain, it seemed to Cristina that she saw rather 
 than heard again a conversation she had until that moment 
 completely forgotten although at the time it had interested her 
 deeply. It was a strange thing, she thought, that feeling of 
 seeing spoken words standing out clear and distinct before the 
 eye instead of hearing them — a strange inversion of the senses. 
 Nevertheless she saw words— Fabrizio's words. They ranged 
 themselves before her vision as though traced by some unseen 
 hand. La morfina. She could buy it. And the last effects 
 of over doses of morfina so closely resembled those of acute 
 internal cotnmozioni. The words blazed before Countess Vitali's 
 eyes and burned themselves into her brain. It seemed to her 
 that not only did she see them, but that she also felt them, felt 
 them as though some one were striking her with them. Only she 
 did not hear them — had no sense of hearing them, although they 
 were spoken words — spoken by Fabrizio. Wait ! she must think ! 
 Who was it that was suffering from something — something that 
 the morfina could allay, but most of the symptoms of which it 
 could also produce if given in too great a quantity? And what 
 was the quantity which would produce such a — complication ? 
 
 Figures rose up before Cristina's eyes. She saw them — 
 falling as it were from Fabrizio's lips. 15. Fifteen — what ? 
 Ah, she remembered ! fifteen centigrammes, of course — fifteen 
 centigrammes of the morfina — that drug which was already being 
 administered by the doctot^s orders — by the doctor himself! 
 
 Cristina started and turned sharply round. Surely somebody 
 had spoken these words ? — this time she had heard them ringing 
 in her ears — she had not seen them. 
 
 Of course ! Here was her opportunity. A moment ago she 
 had thought that Fate was to be stronger than she ; now she felt 
 that she held Fate in her own hands. But she must think — think. 
 There was yet time— not much, perhaps, but still some few days 
 during which the complications Professor Sacchetti had always 
 considered as possible might arise without causing any undue 
 suspicions. If they did arise, what could the doctor say — what 
 could anybody say, except that the internal injuries had been 
 more severe than had been realised. The symptoms would be
 
 292 TEMPTATION 
 
 the same, or at any rate they would be so similar as easily to be 
 mistaken for those of some sudden complication. There would 
 be no mitopsia. It would not be necessary, since from the first a 
 doctor of Sacchetti's reputation had managed the case. And 
 even if there were an autopsia, and traces of morphia were 
 detected, who could say that the doctor himself had not made a 
 mistake and administered the injections too frequently. 
 
 In the semi-darkness and silence of the gallery Cristina 
 thought — and thought. It was extraordinary how clear her 
 mind seemed to be — how ideas flowed to her brain which had 
 never before occurred to her. Surely, she told herself, she must 
 have been very foolish — very dull — not at once to have recollected 
 that conversation, those remarks of Fabrizio's when they had dis- 
 cussed at dinner the possible means employed by Donna Giulia of 
 ridding herself of her lover ! When the doctor had mentioned 
 morphia as being part of his treatment, how came it that she had 
 not remembered ? 
 
 Yes, but Professor Sacchetti had kept the injections rigidly 
 in his own hands, and how could she, Cristina, supplement 
 their number? She did not even know how to use the little 
 apparatus which she had seen Sacchetti take from his pocket. 
 Besides the needle left a tiny scar where it penetrated the flesh, 
 and those scars might afterwards be observed, and counted. 
 
 Ah, how dull she was still ! Of course — she could supplement 
 the doses of morfina to any extent ; not by injection, but by 
 the mouth. It should not be difficult to introduce it repeatedly 
 into the food or the drink sent up to the sick room. How simple 
 it all was, and certainly her wits had been dull until this after- 
 noon. The extra doses she might administer would produce 
 symptoms which Sacchetti would imagine to be caused by some 
 slight relapse, some unexpected disturbance of the shaken and 
 bruised organs ; and he would endeavour to quiet these symptoms 
 by further injections, thus increasing the quantity indefinitely. 
 She had nothing to do but to buy a few of the hypodermic 
 syringes and their accompanying phials. The syringes she 
 could destroy, and the contents of the phials she could use 
 at her discretion — as opportunity offered. What had Fabrizio
 
 TEMPTATION 293 
 
 said? that the action of morfina was cumulative. She could 
 remember smiling at the solemnity of his manner as he made 
 the remark. Well, if it was cumulative, so much the better. 
 The effect would be more natural, more in accordance with what 
 the effects of some sudden complications might be expected to 
 be. Of course ! She would buy the apparatus — one here, 
 another there. Chemists were not wanting in Viterbo. More- 
 over, who could say that she had not bought it for her own use. 
 For her own use ? of course it was for her own use ! 
 
 And, as she said the words to herself, Cristina heard a sudden 
 laugh. Perhaps it was she who had laughed — of course it must 
 have been she ! Was she not alone in the gallery ? Only, it had 
 not sounded like her own laugh — it was low, and malicious ; the 
 kind of laughter that might have issued from Donna Giulia's 
 sneering lips which smiled at her from the canvas above the spot 
 where she was standing. 
 
 It was wonderful how calm she felt now. That wearing anxiety 
 had gone. A little courage, a little resolution, and she would be 
 free. And in securing freedom she would secure to the man 
 she loved, and who loved her, the lands and the money he would 
 know so much better how to enjoy than did his cousin — the 
 campagmiolo. 
 
 Thinking always, Cristina left the gallery, and as she did so 
 the eyes of Donna Giulia's portrait seemed to her to follow her 
 steps; for, turning once again to look at the picture, she en- 
 countered their malicious, mocking smile. 
 
 Cristina Vitali smiled back at it. 
 
 " Grazie, Donna Giulia, grazie ! " she said. " At last you have 
 shown me the way."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 'T^HE accounts received by Fabrizio Vitali of his cousin's 
 ■*- condition were such as to leave little doubt in his mind 
 that Ugo would soon recover from the effects of his accident. 
 He heard from Cristina daily, and each letter dwelt upon the 
 fact that, as yet, none of the complications feared by Professor 
 Sacchetti had shown any signs of manifesting themselves. 
 Countess Vitali gave her information without comments ; and it 
 would have been impossible to tell from the tone of her letters 
 whether or not she was satisfied with the course events were 
 evidently taking. This attitude on Cristina's part was not, as 
 Fabrizio told himself, surprising ; and it was at any rate, honest. 
 Under the circumstances, any pretence to a feehng of thankful- 
 ness that things were not worse would have been merely useless 
 hypocrisy, and Fabrizio was glad to think that Cristina did not 
 consider it worth her while to make any attempt to deceive him 
 on the subject. 
 
 It was evident that she was doing her duty by Ugo, as she had 
 declared that she would do. She told Fabrizio in the letter he 
 had last received from her how she had rarely left her husband's 
 room during the first two days, and that it was only owing to the 
 fact of the third day having now passed without any untoward 
 symptoms declaring themselves that she had allowed herself 
 a little more freedom. 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali assured himself repeatedly that he was glad Ugo 
 v,as going to recover from his accident ; and, in a sense, thes.e 
 assurances were genuine. He had never wished any harm to 
 befall Ugo, even when he had known him far less intimately than 
 he did at present. 
 
 It was a curious thing, and one for which he hardly cared to 
 
 attempt an explanation, but since his return to Rome he had 
 
 become conscious of a certain change in his ideas, or rather, 
 294
 
 TEMPTATION 295 
 
 perhaps, in his state of mind. The change was slight, and subtle ; 
 but he felt it was there, and its presence caused him a vague 
 uneasiness. Oddly enough, he knew that he had first perceived 
 its presence at the moment when, as he and Cristina had been 
 returning from their morning walk in the gardens, the porter had 
 hurried towards them to acquaint them with the news of Ugo's 
 accident. 
 
 It was not that the intelligence had shocked him so much, as 
 that it seemed suddenly and unexpectedly to cast a new light on 
 his own position, a light which showed this position in a different 
 colour from that through which he had become accustomed to 
 view it. From this position there was now no drawing back. 
 He had returned to Palazzo Vitali as he had promised and in- 
 tended to do ; and within four and twenty hours of his return he 
 had obtained from Cristina all that she had promised to give him. 
 And now, should anything happen to Ugo — anything that would 
 make Cristina a free woman — he would be bound in honour to 
 keep the oath he had made to her. It was not that, having 
 obtained his desire, his passion for his cousin's wife was satiated, 
 for it was, indeed, only whetted. But Cristina as a mistress was 
 one thing, whereas Cristina as a wife was an eventuality which, 
 as he now was beginning to realise, had seemed so remote as 
 hardly to be regarded as coming within the range of possibility. 
 
 As Fabrizio had often argued to himself, Ugo could have no 
 logical ground for complaint if his wife, knowing that he went 
 his own way, chose to go hers. It was absurd to be scrupulous 
 as to deceiving a man who had married his wife merely in order 
 to enable him to carry on more easily an intrigue of long stand- 
 ing which he had never intended should be interrupted. Sooner 
 or later, Cristina would certainly console herself for her wrongs 
 by taking a lover of her own ; and, apart from the accident of his 
 being Ugo's kinsman, there was no reason why that lover should 
 not be himself, Fabrizio, while even this last objection was, after 
 all, purely a sentimental one. 
 
 The mishap which had befallen Ugo, however, had instantly 
 brought a remote and extremely improbable contingency within 
 the bounds of possibility, and for some reason which Fabrizio
 
 296 TEMPTATION 
 
 Vitali could not explain, he had felt a sudden aversion from the 
 thought that he might be called upon to redeem his promise to 
 Cristina — a promise which, in the heat of his passion, he had 
 given the more readily on account of the unlikelihood of his ever 
 being able to put it into execution. 
 
 It was with genuine satisfaction, therefore, and perhaps with 
 positive relief, that Fabrizio learned from Countess Vitali's letters 
 of Ugo's probable recovery, and that there was nothing as yet to 
 warrant the fear lest he had received any organic injury. It was 
 true that Cristina invariably reverted in these letters to Professor 
 Sacchetti's obstinacy in asserting that until further time had 
 elapsed it was impossible altogether to exclude the possibiHty of 
 complications of a serious nature declaring themselves. Appar- 
 ently, however, Cristina herself believed that the professor was 
 over-cautious ; and in her last letter she had reminded Fabrizio 
 that doctors were not always above pretending to regard a case 
 as more sericu3 than it really was, in order to gain additional 
 honour and glory when the patient made a good recovery under 
 their treatment. There were no more allusions to the changes 
 which any fatal results of Ugo's accident would make in Fabrizio's 
 prospects, and of this Fabrizio was honestly glad. He did not 
 wish to allow his mind to dwell on the advantages he would derive 
 from Ugo's death. It would be absurd, he told himself, to 
 pretend that he could afford to ignore these advantages, or that 
 he would find any fault with fate for placing him in his cousin's 
 shoes. But he felt a glow of self-commendation at the thought 
 that he was far from definitely wishing for his cousin's death in 
 order that his cousin's goods might become his own; but a 
 portion of which Ugo himself had certainly regarded in the light 
 of a neghgible quantity. All things considered, Fabrizio found 
 himself rapidly coming to the conclusion that he would be quite 
 satisfied with the share he had already secured in this portion, 
 and that a more legal ownership might in the future prove em- 
 barrassing. If Ugo recovered, there was no reason why things 
 should not remain as they were. Cristina and he, Fabrizio, would 
 have ample opportunities of meeting, and of being together. 
 Moreover, Fabrizio told himself that he knew his world. By
 
 TEMPTATION 297 
 
 degrees the relations between himself and his cousin's wife would 
 become an accepted thing — an incident to which nobody would 
 take any exception. Did he not know of scores of similar cases 
 among his acquaintances — and among many who were not his 
 acquaintances ? In Rome, the ami de la maison was almost an 
 institution. The amie lived elsewhere. It was a mere question 
 of accustoming people to the idea ; and, once the idea was 
 established, nobody took the trouble to be scandalised. Even 
 Ugo, like many other husbands, would in time find it more 
 convenient tacitly to accept the situation, indeed he had every 
 reason to induce him to do so. Of course Ugo would not accept 
 it now ; but Rome would enlarge his ideas, and teach him what 
 life really was and how to make the best of it. 
 
 Fabrizio was glad that he had remained firm in his decision to 
 return immediately to Rome. To have stayed on at Palazzo 
 Vitali under the circumstances would have propably resulted in 
 arousing the suspicions not only of Ugo's neighbours, but also 
 those of the household and, finally, of Ugo himself. 
 
 Rome, however, was certainly not agreeable in the month of 
 September. The city was deserted ; the theatres were for the 
 most part closed, and life might be said to be at a standstill. 
 Even the priests were less en evidence, and the " beetles " 
 (baggarozzt) as the Romans contemptuously term the gangs 
 of students belonging to the various ecclesiastical colleges, no 
 longer swarmed on the Pincio or in the Villa Borghese, but were 
 still passing the summer vacation in the villas among the Alban 
 Hills, which an impoverished nobility had been obliged to sell. 
 The absence of the '■^ baggarozzi" however, was perhaps the 
 one advantage accruing to the capital during the dead season. 
 The spirit of civilisation was no longer offended by the sorry 
 spectacle of bands of able-bodied young men with weak 
 countenances, whose future energies were to be devoted to 
 hindering rather than assisting the intellectual progress of 
 humanity. 
 
 The atmosphere of the city was heavy and lifeless, for the 
 first rains of autumn had not yet come to dispel the sirocco 
 which blows so frequently in September. The Embassies were
 
 298 TEMPTATION 
 
 practically closed, for the chiefs of missions were disporting them- 
 selves on the other side of the Alps, and even the secretaries and 
 attaches were for the most part in villeggiatura at Vallombrosa 
 and Camaldoli. The Court was in Piemonte ; and the ParUa- 
 ment, which in Italy never sits when the ministers can find 
 any excuse for it not to do so, would not reassemble till the 
 winter, when it would probably be again despatched for a hoHday 
 on the first available opportunity. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these temporary drawbacks, however, 
 Fabrizio was able to make himself fairly happy in Rome. He 
 looked forward to the coming winter, when Cristina would be 
 installed in some apartment which Ugo would rent for the season 
 — for, of course, by that time Ugo would have quite recovered 
 from the effects of his accident. Things would go smoothly 
 enough then — and, as he had always told Cristina, at Rome he 
 and she would have ample opportunities for enjoying " il commodo 
 loro" without being perpetually exposed to the eyes of the 
 curious as they would be at Viterbo. Ugo would, of course, 
 hunt two days a week, and be perpetually returning to Palazzo 
 Vitali to look after his affairs. In the meantime Cristina and 
 he, Fabrizio, would be free to lead their own lives, and they 
 would be able to make use of their freedom as many other 
 people placed in the same circumstances made use of it. 
 
 But Fabrizio's anticipations were destined not to be realised. 
 Two days had elapsed since he had last received a letter from 
 Countess Vitali — that letter which had confirmed his belief that 
 Ugo in a short time would be perfectly well again. On his 
 return home late in the evening he found a telegram lying on his 
 table. It was from Cristina, and was laconic enough. Ugo, she 
 telegraphed, was suffering from a severe and unexpected relapse, 
 and she was writing. The news came to Fabrizio as a shock. 
 Sacchetti, then, had been right to be so cautious in his opmion as 
 to the real nature of the case. Probably the professor had from 
 the first suspected the presence of some internal mischief — 
 some lesion, as he had termed it, which no doubt had set up 
 inflammation. 
 
 Poor Ugo ! it was terrible to think of him with his life thus
 
 TEMPTATION 299 
 
 suddenly endangered. Cristina used the word gravissimo in her 
 telegram, and that could mean nothing less than imminent 
 danger. 
 
 Fabrizio read and re-read the short telegram, and then hurried 
 off to the central office at San Silvestro to reply to it. He 
 reproached himself now for having talked and thought so lightly 
 of his and Cristina's coming freedom. But he had never calcu- 
 lated upon that freedom being so complete as now seemed to be 
 probable. Stato gravissimo ! there was no mistaking the meaning 
 such a phrase must be intended to convey. And Cristina— would 
 she, could she, care at all ? That was a terrible thought, which made 
 Fabrizio feel as though in some way he would be guilty — were 
 Ugo really to die. He knew that Cristina would not care — that 
 she would probably make no pretence of caring, at any rate to 
 him. How could she do so, after all that had passed between them ? 
 
 Yes, Cristina would be free, and, at the conclusion of a decent 
 period during which a simulance of mourning would have to be 
 observed, she would expect him to fulfil his promise and marry 
 her. Somehow or other the thought, once so attractive, now 
 filled Fabrizio with a strange misgiving. Moments when he had 
 been vaguely conscious of a sudden feeling of repulsion — a feeling 
 that had passed as quickly as it had come — now returned to his 
 memory and refused to leave it. After all, what did he know of 
 Cristina — herself? The outer Cristina — her beauty, her charm 
 of manner when she chose to exert it, her aptitude to talk on 
 subjects with which it might have been supposed that she could 
 have little acquaintance — all these things he knew, and they had 
 fascinated him and made him love her. But of her real self, what 
 did he know? He remembered now how often he had been 
 puzzled by the sudden furtive, suspicious glance which he had 
 noticed flash from her eyes — that look which recalled the low- 
 browed Ciociara models when under the influences of anger or 
 jealousy. It was attractive — that look — if only on account of the 
 half-revealed passions which lay behind it — but it was a look one 
 would prefer to see on the face of one's mistress, from whom one 
 could escape, than on that of one's wife from whom escape was 
 not so easy a matter.
 
 300 TEMPTATION 
 
 Nevertheless, Cristina was a beautiful woman — a woman in a 
 thousand. It might be that he did not yet know the real Cristina, 
 but that was no reason why he should not learn to know her. It 
 might be that the disappointment of her life with Ugo — the 
 discovery that she had been married, not for herself, but to en- 
 able another woman to retain her hold over Ugo, had embittered 
 her, and that this accounted for the indefinable things in her 
 which had repelled even while they had attracted him by their 
 mysteriousness. 
 
 Fabrizio sent his telegram, and as he wrote it out the conven- 
 tionality of the language struck him disagreeably. He longed to 
 make it clear to Cristina that he was genuinely shocked, genuinely 
 sorry — but how could he expect it to be believed ? And yet he 
 knew that he was both the one and the other. He told himself 
 that, had he been able to foresee Ugo's accident, and still more 
 had he been able to foresee its all too probable results, he would 
 not have yielded to his passion when he had. There would have 
 been time enough — afterwards ; and he would not now have to 
 endure the remorse of the feeling that he had wronged his kins- 
 man who had trusted him, and who now lay, perhaps, a dying man. 
 
 He returned from San Silvestro to the apartment he and his 
 mother occupied in the Via Veneto. The Signora Vitah was 
 still at Montecatini, and he was alone. There was nothing to do 
 but sit and wait for further news from Viterbo. The letter alluded 
 to in Cristina's telegram would probably reach him by the first 
 post in the morning, and until then it was not likely that he 
 would hear more particulars. He tried to distract his thoughts 
 by reading, but his books were soon laid aside. He felt as a man 
 may feel when conscious of a presentiment of a great change 
 about to take place in his life. To some, such changes come 
 suddenly, unexpectedly, perhaps wrenching happiness and the 
 joy of living out of the heart, and causing life never again to be 
 all that it was before ; while to others some warning is vouchsafed. 
 
 To-night Fabrizio was a prey to an uneasiness which, do what 
 he could, refused to leave him. He tried to think of what he 
 would do were Ugo really to die and were he to succeed to his 
 inheritance. In former days he had often allowed his mind to
 
 TEMPTATION 301 
 
 dwell upon this theme, and he had been wont to build many 
 castles in the air in connection with it. To-night, however, the 
 material change in his prospects, which Cristina's telegram had 
 brought within the range of actuality, seemed to concern him only 
 in a secondary degree. He felt that some other change — some- 
 thing that threatened the immaterial part of him — was about to 
 envelop him, and he shrank from it. 
 
 The night was close and airless ; and, after vainly endeavour- 
 ing to turn the channel of his thoughts by reading, Fabrizio de- 
 termined to go out again into the streets. It would be a relief 
 to find himself among such movement as might be going on at a 
 late hour of a September evening. He sought the quarter of the 
 city which would be most thronged, wending his way down the 
 Via Nazionale and so along the Corso to Piazza Colonna. The 
 Caffe Aragno was crowded with men of business, journalists and 
 others whose daily occupations kept them in Rome even at that 
 season. Fabrizio entered the brilliantly lighted sala and, ordering 
 a cup of black coffee, sat down at a vacant table. A few people 
 passing in and out nodded to him, and one or two came up and 
 talked to him as he sipped his coffee. The distraction of mind 
 which he sought, however, would not come to him, and after a 
 short time the noise and movement in the place began to have an 
 irritating effect on his nerves. He left the caffe, and passed out 
 into the Corso where groups of people were walking up and down 
 or reading the evening papers under the electric lamps. The 
 various clocks were striking eleven, and there seemed to Fabrizio 
 nothing better to be done than to retrace his steps to the Via 
 Veneto. On reaching his apartment he found that no further 
 telegram had arrived from Viterbo, and there was nothing to do 
 but to wait for the news the morning would certainly bring. 
 
 Taking a book with him, he went to his bedroom, determined 
 to read himself to sleep. But sleep was long in coming. Always 
 the vague sense of some impending evil was with him and by no 
 effort of the will could he free himself from it. His mind travelled 
 to Palazzo Vitah, and in his imagination he assisted at the scene 
 in Ugo's sick room. Perhaps, he thought, Cristina, now that Ugo 
 was really in danger, would be distressed. It would be terrible
 
 302 TEMPTATION 
 
 for her to have to feign an anxiety and a sorrow which she did 
 not feel. He had told her that she was hard; and she had 
 replied that she was just — that it was the San Felice, and not she, 
 who had either the reason or the right to grieve. Yes — but 
 Cristina had said that when Ugo's life was not actually in danger. 
 But now — with the presence of death perhaps so near at hand — 
 she would not continue to be hard. No doubt Ugo had wronged 
 her — wronged her cruelly and systematically — but, surely, where 
 death entered all wrongs were forgiven. But it was unconceivable 
 that death should enter ! Sacchetti would summon some famous 
 doctor from Rome, and there would be a consultation — probably 
 an operation — and Ugo's life would be saved. 
 
 It was a strange thing, Fabrizio thought, that he should be so 
 feverishly anxious that Ugo should not die. He had everything 
 to gain by Ugo's death, from the point of view of worldly gain. 
 Nevertheless, he experienced a feeling which was little short of 
 horror — which was horror — at the prospect of his cousin's death. 
 In some unaccountable way he felt that this death, far from bene- 
 fiting him, was a menace of evil, a danger which, were he only 
 able to do so, he would ward off a.t any cost to himself and to his 
 future. The knowledge that he was utterly impotent to alter the 
 course of events by a hair's breadth increased a hundredfold that 
 strange sense of fear which oppressed him. If he could only 
 realise what it was he feared ; if he could only define the indefin- 
 able, and understand why it should be that an eventuality which 
 he had so often contemplated with perfect equanimity should 
 now, when he was brought face to face with it, fill him with an 
 inexplicable sense of aversion and a haunting fear of some un- 
 known evil which its actual occurrence would bring upon him ! 
 
 Sleep was long in coming to Fabrizio that night, but it came at 
 last. How long he had slept he did not know, but he knew that 
 he woke with a cry of horror on his lips which seemed to him as 
 if it must surely have rung through the house. For a moment or 
 two he looked round his room, into which the morning light was 
 now penetrating, bewildered and unable to collect his thoughts. 
 Surely, he said to himself, he had been but a few minutes before 
 in another room, Donna Giulia's room at Palazzo Vitali ? And
 
 TEMPTATION 303 
 
 then memory returned to him, with that slow, cruel ruthlessness 
 with which it returns to those who wake again to the trouble that 
 for a few short hours sleep has dulled. Gradually he knew that 
 he had dreamed again the dream which had come to him on the 
 first night he had passed in Palazzo Vitali. Again in his sleep, 
 Donna Giulia had bent over him, and had told him that Ugo 
 was dead, and that he, Fabrizio, had killed him. And then it 
 was no longer Donna Giulia who bent over him, but Cristina 
 who embraced him and held her lips to his to be kissed. Ugo 
 was dead, she had whispered to him, and she was free, free to 
 become his wife. And then she had laughed, and Fabrizio had 
 recognised the laugh. It was some time since he had heard it, 
 and he hoped that it had passed out of his life for ever. But 
 now it had rung again in his ears, and it had grown louder and 
 louder, so that do what he would he could not shut out its sound. 
 Then, as he was struggling to free himself from the arms that held 
 him, Cristina's arms, something had happened, and the laughter, 
 that terrible laughter died away into silence. Ah — he remem- 
 bered now ! the crucifix had fallen, and in his agony he had 
 grasped it, and as he grasped it his dream had passed. 
 
 Ah, but it had not passed ! He could still hear the echo of 
 that laugh. It had come back to him again, and if he were to 
 hear it perpetually at his side as he had heard it at Palazzo Vitali 
 he would go mad — mad ! 
 
 That was absurd — childish. He would not go mad, had he not 
 his Will, that Human Will which controlled life, which was life ? 
 His glance fell on the volume of Schopenhauer from which he 
 had forced himself to read while waiting for sleep to come to 
 him. Of course! what could be more natural in the excited 
 state of his mind than that he should have dreamed again the 
 dream which had impressed itself so vividly only a few weeks 
 ago — so vividly that he had imagined he had again heard the 
 laugh which accompanied it? He was not well yet, and the 
 events of the last few days had made him nervous — as nervous as 
 he had been when he first went to Palazzo VitaH. 
 
 Fabrizio rose, and threw open the windows of his room. The 
 weather had changed during the night, and, instead of the sultry
 
 304 TEMPTATION 
 
 sirocco, a faint tramontana breeze, light and exhilarating, had 
 cleared the sky of its leaden clouds and the sun was shining. 
 Looking at his watch he found it was already seven o'clock. 
 From the streets came the sounds of life. Newspapers were 
 being cried ; hawkers were shouting their wares ; and in the 
 distance he could hear the strains of a military band as a regiment 
 marched on its way from the Castro Pretorio to take part in some 
 morning manoeuvres outside one of the gates of the city. 
 
 The fresh air and the sunshine restored Fabrizio to a calmer 
 condition of mind. He determined to dress ; and, ringing his 
 bell, told the servant to bring him hot water, and a cup of black 
 coffee. A quarter of an hour passed before the man returned, 
 placing a tray with the coffee beside Fabrizio, A telegram lay 
 on the tray ; it had just arrived, the servant said, sent in from the 
 central office as the hour was yet early. 
 
 Fabrizio tore it open. It was signed by Taddeo. 
 The signor contc died at half-past four this morning. Your 
 presence is necessary. Taddeo Fasquali — maggior-dojno — Palazzo 
 Vitali.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A CCORDING to immemorial custom in Italy when death 
 -^^ occurs in the family owning a palace, the great gates of 
 Palazzo Vitali were shut. Only from this sign could a passer- 
 by have known that mourning had visited the house. The 
 windows of the facade facing the narrow street were open as 
 usual, but groups of Viterbesi, talking to each other in low, 
 eager tones, stood in the roadway and gazed at the closed 
 portone. The news of Count Vitali's death had fallen as an 
 unexpected blow on the quiet, provincial city. The circumstances 
 of the accident which had befallen him a few days previously 
 had been, of course, known to all ; but it was known, also, that 
 Professor Sacchetti was managing the case, and that the professor 
 of whom Viterbo was proud had only three days since declared 
 his belief in his patient's speedy recovery from a mishap which 
 might easily have had fatal consequences. It had been rumoured 
 that, during the last two days, Count Vitali's condition had not 
 been entirely satisfactory ; and those who had happened to meet 
 Professor Sacchetti in the streets had noticed that he looked 
 unusually grave for a man who was naturally of a lively and 
 cheerful disposition. Nobody, however, had anticipated the 
 news which had startled and shocked Viterbo in the early hours 
 of that morning, and the first instinct of the towns-people was to 
 hurry to Palazzo Vitali and see for themselves whether it could 
 be true that the portone was closed. There could be no doubt 
 about the fact. The great, wooden gates, heavily studded with 
 rusty iron bolts, were hermetically shut, and only the little wicket 
 door in their centre stood a few inches ajar, disclosing to the 
 curious a glimpse of the grim courtyard within, deserted save for 
 the well-known figure of the porter who, mace in hand, was 
 apparently awaiting some expected arrival. It was evident that 
 the people in the street were also watching for something of the
 
 306 TEMPTATION 
 
 kind, for when they were not gazing at the ^orfone their glances 
 turned towards that end of the street which joined a more 
 important thoroughfare eventually communicating with the 
 railway station. 
 
 It was by this time nearly midday, and the train from Rome 
 should have already crawled into Viterbo, were it not for the 
 fact that neither it nor any other train was ever known to arrive 
 or depart in orario. As it was, the great bells of the cathedral 
 were already booming out " mezzo-giorno," and were being 
 answered by the bells of the other churches in the city, when a 
 rattle of carriage wheels on the rough paving stones Caused a 
 corresponding buzz of excitement among those whose curiosity 
 was greater than their desire to return home for their midday 
 meal. 
 
 " Eccolo ! eccolo ! " went from mouth to mouth, and those 
 furthest away from Palazzo Vitali began to hasten toward the 
 portone as a closed carriage dashed round the corner and drove 
 rapidly up to it, without, however, awaiting for the gates to be 
 thrown back to allow of its entrance into the courtyard. 
 
 " Eccolo — e proprio lui ! " murmured the little crowd of on- 
 lookers ; and then there was a dead silence, broken suddenly by 
 one or two low hisses and an ugly word. One half of the 
 portone swung open as the carriage pulled up in front of it, and 
 the porter hastily opened the carriage door. Possibly his ear 
 had caught the hisses, or \}ciejergo expression which accompanied 
 them, for he closed the great gate again with a crash that rever- 
 berated through the courtyard as soon as Fabrizio Vitali, the 
 occupant of the carriage, had crossed the threshold. 
 
 The telegram announcing Ugo's death not having reached him 
 till between seven and eight that morning, Fabrizio had been 
 obliged to wait for the departure of a later train from Rome. 
 This delay had been so far fortunate in that it had enabled him 
 to receive Countess Vitali's letter, which, as he had anticipated, 
 had been delivered by the first post an hour after his receipt of 
 Taddeo's telegram. 
 
 The letter, it must be confessed, had told him little more than 
 Cristina had already telegraphed the previous night. Everything,
 
 TEMPTATION 307 
 
 she wrote, had been going on well, when Ugo had suddenly com- 
 plained of renewed internal pain, accompanied by violent fits 
 of the nausea which he had felt for several days. Sacchetti had, 
 of course, been hastily summoned, and had recommenced the 
 injections of morfina which he had before found it sufficient to 
 restrict to a single injection late in the evening in order to ensure 
 his patient a tolerably quiet night. All the symptoms, Countess 
 Vitali declared, pointed to severe internal inflammation, no doubt 
 caused by some injury which was only now beginning to show 
 itself, but which must have existed from the first. Of course, as 
 she reminded Fabrizio in the letter, Sacchetti had always feared 
 some similar complication, and unfortunately the present com- 
 plication seemed to be of a very dangerous nature. The 
 additional injections of morfina which the professor had given 
 had not had their desired effect; and indeed had seemed to 
 aggravate the symptoms rather than relieve them. If matters 
 were no better as the day went on. Professor Sacchetti had 
 announced his intention of telegraphing to a colleague at Rome 
 to come down for a consultation, as an operation would probably 
 be necessary. 
 
 On re-reading this letter it became evident to Fabrizio that it 
 had been written some hours before Cristina had despatched her 
 telegram describing Ugo's state as gravissimo. 
 
 The letter was short, and Cristina had certainly not allowed 
 herself to make any comments, or to depart in any way from a 
 dry statement of facts. Under the circumstances, Fabrizio could 
 hardly wonder at her reticence concerning her own feelings. 
 He had been surprised, it was true, that the final telegram should 
 have proceeded from Taddeo and not from Cristina herself. On 
 reflection, however, this also had seemed to be natural. No 
 doubt she had been terribly shocked and upset by so unexpected 
 and tragic a result of Ugo's accident, the more so as everything 
 had appeared to be going on satisfactorily. It was quite likely 
 therefore, that she would have left all details to Taddeo, who had 
 at once thought proper to telegraph the news, and to request the 
 immediate presence of Ugo's nearest relative. 
 
 Fabrizio had felt, as it were, in a dream ever since receiving
 
 308 TEMPTATION 
 
 the intelligence of his cousin's death. On arriving at Viterbo he 
 had been vaguely conscious of the fact that people were regard- 
 ing him with some curiosity ; but engrossed as he was in his 
 thoughts he had certainly neither heard the isolated hisses, nor 
 caught the opprobrious epithet which some member of the crowd 
 had called out as he had entered Palazzo Vitali. 
 
 At the foot of the staircase leading up to the pia7io nobile, 
 Taddeo and one or two members of the household were waiting 
 to receive him. The meeting was painful enough, at all events 
 to Taddeo; for the old servant broke down completely as he 
 greeted the new head of Casa Vitali. In one of the numerous 
 reception rooms of the cardinal's apartment Fabrizio found Pro- 
 fessor Sacchetti, and a short, alert-looking individual who was 
 presented to him by the professor as the avvocato Filippi, Ugo's 
 lawyer. The avvocato Filippi saluted him with the obsequious- 
 ness he considered to be due to a new client. In matters of 
 business the Italian is not apt to be sentimental ; and the lawyer 
 went straight to the point which principally concerned him. 
 
 " Signor conte," he observed, " it is fortunate that you have 
 been able to be here so quickly. As you are of course aware, 
 this — this deplorable event makes you the successor to the late 
 Count Vitali, and I am entirely at your service as the man of 
 business to Casa Vitali. I trust it is unnecessary to assure you 
 that your interests will be perfectly safe in my hands." 
 
 Fabrizio bowed. " I know nothing of my poor cousin's affairs 
 he said quickly, " though I am aware that, being his nearest of 
 kin, I am now his representative. The signora contessa " 
 
 "The signora contessa has, naturally, a first charge on the 
 estate," interrupted the lawyer. " The porzione vedovile is ample, 
 and the signora contessa has the right to select any apartment in 
 Palazzo Vitali as a residence for the remainder of her life-time, 
 and any articles of furniture she may choose to place in that 
 apartment. Everything else, signor conte, passes to you abso- 
 lutely, as sole male heir. I had the honour of drawing up the 
 late count's will at the time of his marriage, so I am fully ac- 
 quainted with its provisions. Since then, as you are probably aware, 
 he inherited a considerable fortune in money and house property
 
 TEMPTATION 309 
 
 from the Marchesa Santoro. Count Ugo's will, however, stands 
 to-day as it was originally drawn up. Owing, too, to the accident 
 of your being the sole representative of Casa Vitali, you inherit 
 the lands and the estate intact ; no division being necessary as 
 would have been the case had there been other near relatives." 
 
 More than once Fabrizio attempted to interrupt the lawyer's 
 somewhat lengthy statement. It was impossible, however, to 
 check the rapid flow of words. When he concluded, Fabrizio 
 turned a little impatiently to Professor Sacchetti. 
 
 " How did it happen, signor professore ? " he asked abruptly. 
 
 The doctor spread out his hands. " Mah 1 " he exclaimed. 
 " It — happened. Ecco tutto ! What can I say ? A sudden in- 
 flammation — the result, without doubt, of an internal lesion pro- 
 duced by the weight of the horse on the viscera. Violent nausea, 
 succeeded by cerebral disturbance producing coma, and death. 
 That, signor conte, is what has happened — so far as I am able 
 to tell you superficially. It would be more satisfactory — infinitely 
 more satisfactory — to hold an autopsia, I have suggested as 
 much to the signora contessa, but she is opposed to the 
 idea " 
 
 " But you can insist," said Fabrizio, as he paused. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti shook his head. "No," he replied, "I 
 have no legal right to insist on an autopsia in this case. Count 
 Ugo, poveretto, was suff'ering from acute visceral concussion, the 
 causes of which were free from all doubt. Nothing was more 
 hkely than that complications might supervene, setting up the 
 acute inflammation which was the undoubted cause of death. I 
 confess that I believed all fear of any similar complications to be 
 at an end, or nearly at an end, and for this reason I should have 
 preferred to make an examination, in order to ascertain what had 
 been the full extent of the internal injuries. Nevertheless, as I 
 say, I have only the moral right, as the medico curafite, to suggest an 
 autopsia. I have no legal right to insist upon it, because the 
 patient succumbed to complications which any doctor would re- 
 cognise as being not only natural, but which from the first were 
 to be apprehended. Had the signora contessa consented, there 
 would be no more to be said. But those things are painful
 
 310 TEMPTATION 
 
 to the survivors, si capiscc, and where there is no legal neces- 
 sity — " and Professor Sacchetti shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 Fabrizio was silent. Why, he wondered, should Cristina 
 object ? It was not as if — He put the thought away from him 
 with a slight shudder, remembering what she had told him lately. 
 
 Looking up he caught Professor Sacchetti's eyes fixed upon him 
 penetratingly, a doctor's sharp, inquisitive glance. 
 
 " If you wish it, professore," he said presently, " I will 
 speak to the contessa on the subject, and support you in your 
 suggestion. I can understand that you would like to ascertain 
 why, after so many days had elapsed since the accident, a fatal 
 complication should have suddenly declared itself. It would be 
 more satisfactory." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti and the lawyer exchanged a rapid glance. 
 
 " Sicuro ! " observed the professor, "it would be more satisfac- 
 tory — not only to me, but also to others. I am delighted to hear, 
 conte, that you, at least, do not share the contessa's objections." 
 
 " I ? " returned Fabrizio wonderingly. " Niente affatto ! why 
 should I share them ? Of course," he added hastily, " I under- 
 stand them. Those things, as you say, are very painful to the 
 feelings of the survivors. And to the contessa — " and he paused 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Precisely. They are painful," replied Professor Sacchetti, 
 " but there are other things which might be more painful to the 
 signora contessa — and to you, conte. Are there not, Filippi?" 
 he added, turning to the lawyer, 
 
 " Certainly ! " exclaimed the avvocato Filippi, " most un- 
 doubtedly ! " 
 
 Something in the tone of their voices made Fabrizio look at 
 them inquiringly. 
 
 " Other things ? " he repeated. " I do not understand." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti cleared his throat with a somewhat un- 
 necessary violence, and then he glanced at the doors of the 
 apartment as though to assure himself that they were closed. 
 
 "Signer conte," he said, at length, "these are delicate 
 matters. Have I your permission to speak plainly ? The av- 
 vocato Filippi here is the confidential man of business to Casa
 
 TEMPTATION 311 
 
 Vitali ; what is said in his presence will certainly not be repeated 
 elsewhere. And I — " he added with some dignity, " am myself. 
 The confidence of a doctor is, or should be, as inviolate as that 
 of a lawyer or a priest." 
 
 The presentiment of coming evil which had never left Fabrizio 
 since he had received Cristina's telegram the evening before, 
 seemed to tighten itself like a band round his heart as he listened 
 to Professor Sacchetti's words. 
 
 What could these men mean ? he asked himself. There must 
 be something which they knew, or suspected, of which he was as 
 yet in ignorance. Could it be that they suspected how matters 
 stood between him and Cristina ? Yet even if they did suspect 
 — and had not Cristina told him that gossip had been busy with 
 his and her names ? — what could it matter to them — now ? Those 
 were not matters which either Sacchetti or the lawyer would pre- 
 sume to mention to him, however much they might discuss them 
 in other quarters. 
 
 He was aware that Professor Sacchetti was watching him, 
 curiously and intently. The avvocato Filippi on the contrary 
 was gazing out of the window, and appeared to be nervous and 
 ill at ease. 
 
 "You will permit me to speak freely, signor conte?" repeated 
 the doctor. 
 
 " But certainly, professore ! " Fabrizio replied. " Del resto," 
 he added, " it is your right to do so. I can only say that I 
 regret the contessa does not agree to your suggestion, which 
 seems to me to be a perfectly legitimate one." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti hesitated. " No," he said quietly, " my 
 suggestion is not strictly speaking legitimate. The fact of its not 
 being so places me in a difficult position. I imagine, moreover, 
 that the signora contessa is perfectly aware of this difficulty. I 
 could, of course, by taking a very grave step, make an autopsia 
 unavoidable." 
 
 The little colour that Fabrizio Vitali ever had in his face left it. 
 
 " I must ask you to explain, signor professore," he said. 
 
 The professor bowed. " I will endeavour to do so," he 
 answered, " but, as I say, the subject is a very delicate one.
 
 312 TEMPTATION 
 
 You will understand, conte, that my suggestion is made not so 
 much for the sake of my professional curiosity — if you like to call 
 it so — as for the sake of Casa Vitali. Your cousin was well 
 known here at Viterbo, signor conte — well known and greatly 
 beloved by all classes. Well, you are doubtless aware that when 
 a well known individual dies suddenly the people are apt to 
 hazard strange conjectures as to the true cause of death. In 
 Rome, even at the present time, if a prominent cardinal dies 
 unexpectedly, there are people always ready to shrug their 
 shoulders, and whisper the word — poison. It is a tradition — 
 but unfortunately, there is reason enough for its origin, not only 
 in Rome, but in any other of our cities." 
 
 Fabrizio started to his feet. " Signore professore ! " he 
 exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti spread out his hands apologetically. " The 
 thing is absurd — ridiculous," he continued hastily, " but, un- 
 luckily, people do not always stop to consider whether the idle 
 reports they circulate be absurd, or not. Why, or how, I cannot 
 tell you — but the fact remains that among a certain class in 
 Viterbo there exists a suspicion that Count Ugo's death was not 
 entirely due to natural causes. It is a suspicion which, I regret 
 to say, seems to be shared even by his household." 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali groaned. " Gran Dio ! " he murmured to him- 
 self. The room seemed to circle round him, and staggering back 
 he fell into a chair, wiping drops of perspiration from his 
 forehead. 
 
 The doctor looked at him searchingly, critically — and then his 
 keen, black eyes, which had been as hard as steel, suddenly 
 softened. 
 
 " Do you still find yourself in agreement with the suggestion 
 I have made to the signora contessa, signor conte ? " he said 
 quietly. 
 
 There was a pause, during which the avvocato Filippi withdrew 
 his gaze from the window, and looked at his new client. 
 
 "I find myself more in agreement with it than ever — more 
 than ever," replied Fabrizio Vitali dully. " But it is a question 
 for the signora contessa to decide. I am only a distant relative,
 
 TEMPTATION 318 
 
 though I happen to be my cousin's heir ; but she is his widow. 
 I shall speak to her." 
 
 " Caro signor conte," said Professor Sacchetti, "I fear that you 
 will find her strongly opposed to my suggestion. I have not, as 
 you may imagine, as yet given her any hint as to my real motives 
 for making it. I told her that it would be for my own personal 
 satisfaction. That was not strictly true, as you know. However, 
 I trusted that your influence would prevail, and that, after learn- 
 ing your views, the contessa would not by continuing her opposi- 
 tion oblige me to take a very disagreeable step — " and he paused, 
 and looked at Fabrizio gravely. 
 
 " And that step would be — ? " asked Fabrizio, in a low voice, 
 though he already guessed at the answer. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti shrugged his shoulders. " Mah ] " he re- 
 pHed drily, "the final decision rests with me. I should merely 
 have to declare to the authorities that I was not fully prepared to 
 give a certificate as to the cause of Count Ugo's death, and an 
 autopsia would become obligatory." 
 
 " There could be nothing to be feared from it," said Fabrizio 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Of course not ! 1 am far from suggesting such a thing. On 
 the other hand, there would, in my opinion, be much to be feared 
 were I to feel myself compelled to carry it out in opposition to the 
 wishes of the family. People's tongues would not be silenced. 
 Let us consider a little. I warned you that I should have 
 to touch on delicate matters. Well, the Contessa Vitali is not 
 loved as her husband was loved. I have nothing to do with 
 certain ideas which, it seems, the people here have got into their 
 heads concerning her. It is said that Count Ugo's married life 
 was not a happy one, and I have heard the contessa much 
 blamed. That, however, is no business of mine, none at all ! I 
 can understand, all the same, that this hostility to the contessa is 
 at the bottom of certain deplorable rumours which are being 
 widely circulated. You can see for yourself, conte, how desirable — 
 I may say how imperative it is that neither the contessa nor you 
 should lend any colour to these rumours by any action which 
 might be misinterpreted. Do I explain myself? "
 
 314 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Certainly ! " replied Fabrizio. " I am sure," he added quickly, 
 "that the contessa will at once see the advisability of agreeing to 
 your wishes. It is horrible," he continued excitably, " horrible ! 
 What could have put such an idea into people's heads ? " 
 
 Professor Sacchetti shrugged his shoulders. " It is easy to put 
 ideas into people's heads," he said, " more especially uneducated 
 people. The difficulty is to get the ideas out of their heads 
 again. In this instance, I fear that the contessa's unfortunate un- 
 popularity is at the bottom of the whole matter." 
 
 " But she nursed her husband devotedly ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. 
 
 " No one can deny that," replied the doctor. " I have said as 
 much to Taddeo — to everybody." 
 
 " To Taddeo ! " repeated Fabrizio. " You do not mean to say 
 professore, that Taddeo shares this absurd suspicion ? " 
 
 " Unluckily, he does share it. It was he who first told me 
 what was being said. I questioned him sharply this morning, 
 but he will not commit himself. I think he wished to see you, 
 signor conte, before explaining his anxiety that there should be 
 an autopsia." 
 
 Fabrizio was perfectly calm now, but it did not require the 
 experienced eye of Professor Sacchetti to see that his calmness 
 was due to a strong restraint he was putting on himself, and that 
 he was a prey to extreme nervous tension. In truth, he was 
 fighting desperately against a terrible dread. The vague sense of 
 coming evil which had oppressed him during the last few hours 
 seemed gradually to be assuming a definite shape; and he grasped 
 wildly and feverishly at any argument which could form as it were 
 a barrier against its approach. 
 
 " If Taddeo suspected anything so horrible," he said ; " why 
 did he wait until — until all was over before telling you of his 
 suspicions ? The thing is absurd — intolerable ! The man is an 
 old servant, and he was devoted to my poor cousin, that I know. 
 At the same time he dislikes the contessa, and the dislike I 
 believe, is mutual. Ugo used to laugh about it, but he would 
 never hear of replacing Taddeo, because the man had been 
 servant also to his father. Do you not see for yourself how utterly 
 absurd the whole thing is, professore ? As I say, if Taddeo had
 
 TEMPTATION 315 
 
 really some grounds for believing my cousin's death to be due to 
 — to foul play, why did he wait until it was too late ? why did he 
 not come to you days ago? It is intolerable that such an 
 abominable rumour should originate in nothing more than the 
 unreasoning jealousy of an old servant." 
 
 Both Professor Sacchetti and the lawyer looked at Fabrizio 
 curiously. 
 
 "Would it not be well that you should interview Taddeo 
 yourself, signor conte, and ask him that question ? " observed the 
 avvocato Filippi, after a pause. 
 
 "Sicuro!" the professor exclaimed. "Perhaps the man 
 would tell you more than he has chosen to tell me, conte. I 
 should certainly send for him. Of course we, Signor Filippi and 
 myself, will retire and leave you alone together. But I need not 
 remind you that time presses. The law must be conformed to, 
 and whatever is done must be done quickly." 
 
 Fabrizio Vitali shook his head. "You will forgive me, 
 signori," he said quietly, " but I am not inclined to attach so 
 much importance to this individual's conjectures. I should 
 prefer to ignore them until I have had an opportunity of speaking 
 with the signora contessa. You can scarcely expect me to 
 consult a servant before consulting my cousin's widow. I have 
 no doubt that, after I have seen the contessa, there will be no 
 reason to interview Taddeo or anybody else. I am confident 
 that, so soon as she learns from me your real motive in wishing 
 to examine further into the causes of her husband's death, she 
 will be the first to withdraw her objections, however painful it 
 may be to her feelings." 
 
 Fabrizio was very pale, and he spoke in a low, though per- 
 fectly calm voice, while there was a certain quiet dignity in his 
 bearing which was not lost upon his hearers. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti bowed. " I quite understand your feelings, 
 signor conte," he said courteously. "All that I would venture 
 to repeat is, that time presses — for obvious reasons. I trust 
 that you will be able to tell us that the signora contessa is no 
 longer determined to withhold her consent to an autopsia being 
 made. And, in that case," he added, " it will of course be un-
 
 316 TEMPTATION 
 
 necessary to take further notice of the existence of any absurd 
 rumours which may have been circulated." 
 
 Fabrizio did not reply. He rose from his chair and, crossing the 
 room, rang the bell. In a few moments Taddeo presented himself. 
 
 " The signora contessa knows that I have arrived ? " Fabrizio 
 asked the man. 
 
 " Signor conte, si." 
 
 " Kindly tell her that, as soon as she is able to receive me, 
 I am anxious to see her." 
 
 The three men remained in silence, awaiting Taddeo's return. 
 Fabrizio resumed his seat, and sat with his face partially con- 
 cealed by his hand. Not a sound was audible in the room 
 save the slow ticking of a clock on a gilded console near the 
 double doors communicating with the gallery. Suddenly Fabrizio 
 started up and began to pace hurriedly up and down the room. 
 Professor Sacchetti who was looking at him saw an expression 
 of fear, almost of terror pass over his face, and noticed with 
 surprise that he raised his hands to his ears as though to shut 
 out some sound which distressed him. 
 
 In a moment the doctor was by Fabrizio's side. "Conte," he 
 said quietly, "you are unwell— upset. These things are trying 
 to the nerves. Probably you have eaten nothing, and it is late. 
 As a doctor, I must insist on your having some food and some 
 wine before you go to the contessa. It is not worth while to make 
 oneself ill." 
 
 Fabrizio shook his head. "It is nothing," he said hastily. 
 "Yes, professore, — as you say, these things are bad for the 
 nerves. You are right — I have eaten nothing this morning. 
 No doubt Taddeo will have prepared breakfast." 
 
 At that moment Taddeo re-entered the room. 
 
 " The signora contessa will be glad to receive the signor conte 
 at two o'clock," he said. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti looked at the clock. " It is now a quarter 
 to one," he observed. "There will be ample time for you to 
 have the breakfast you need, conte. Shall I be in your way if 
 I offer to remain with you ? " 
 
 Fabrizio assented eagerly. He did not wish to be left alone
 
 TEMPTATION 317 
 
 with Taddeo. "Most willingly, professore!" he replied, "and 
 I hope that you, Signor Filippi, will also remain to breakfast. 
 I fear that the meal has been too long delayed ; but no doubt 
 Taddeo will serve it immediately." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti appeared as though unable to take his eyes 
 off Fabrizio's face. He was studying it, as an artist might study 
 the face of a portrait. 
 
 But the professor's manner was no longer so dry, and every 
 now and then a gleam of sympathy shot from his scrutinising 
 eyes. As if he were reading in an open book, he could read the 
 signs in Fabrizio's countenance of severe mental struggle, and 
 perhaps of something more. He knew that the man who sat 
 silently at the table opposite to him, eating little but drinking 
 repeatedly, was suffering acutely. Nevertheless, he felt confident 
 that Fabrizio Vitali had been sincere in every word he had 
 spoken. 
 
 " All the same," Professor Sachetti said to himself, " there 
 must certainly be an autopsia. The widow will not dare to 
 refuse it. But he — " and he looked again at Fabrizio, "he 
 knows nothing. He only dreads what he may have to know."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 "T^ON BASILIO had just finished saying mass. There were 
 ^^^ very few of his parishioners present, for it was a giorno di 
 lavoro. Moreover, every able-bodied man, woman, and child was 
 too busily employed on the vintage to afford the time to attend 
 the mass which \hQ\x parroco said every morning at seven o'clock 
 during the summer months and at eight o'clock in winter. The 
 congregation had been limited to a possible dozen of the old and 
 infirm of both sexes ; and even these showed none of their usual 
 inclination to linger inside the church after Don Basilio, accom- 
 panied by his server, had disappeared with the sacred vessels into 
 the sacristy. They, too, were eager to make their way to the 
 nearest vineyards ; for who could tell whether, when the vintage 
 came round again, they would still be alive and able to watch the 
 plucking of the grapes, or still be able to flatter themselves that 
 they were taking their share of the work notwithstanding stiff 
 limbs and weakness of back ? 
 
 A certain restlessness had been observable in the little congrega- 
 tion as Don Basilio, the mass concluded, knelt before the altar to 
 recite the few short prayers he was accustomed to offer before 
 leaving the church. One or two old men had actually shuffled 
 out of the building during the reading of the last gospel, confident 
 that the Madonna and the saints would not be offended at their 
 desire to be in time to see the last basket loads of grapes leave 
 Sor Cecco's vineyard behind his osteria — that vineyard which 
 supplied the red wine they hoped to drink on many a festa 
 through the coming winter ; wine which, Sor Cecco himself 
 was apt proudly to declare, was fit for both the King and the 
 Pope, if these illustrious personages did but know it. 
 
 Don Basilio was leaving the church, and smiling quietly to 
 himself as he saw the scattered members of his flock hastening to 
 the little osteria where, besides the withered bush hanging over 
 318
 
 TEMPTATION 319 
 
 the door, a placard announced in sprawling characters the sale 
 within of Vino scelto dalle proprie vigne. He had heard the 
 shuffling footsteps during the prayers, and was inclined to agree 
 with the owners of the feet that, under the exceptional circum- 
 stances, the Madonna would be disposed not to stand upon 
 ceremony. 
 
 As he turned into his garden, on his way to his house where 
 he would find his cup of coffee and roll awaiting him with which 
 he was wont to break his fast after saying mass, he was surprised 
 to see a low dog-cart driven by one of the servants of Villa 
 Falconara approaching at a rapid pace. With his hand on the gate 
 of the garden Don Basilio paused, waiting for the man to pull up. 
 
 " Where are you going in such a hurry, Vincenzo ? " he called 
 out, as he recognised the Duchessa di San Felice's groom who 
 always accompanied her when she drove. 
 
 " Reverendo, a brutta notizia has come from Viterbo this morn- 
 ing. The poor signor conte is dead. The signora duchessa sent 
 me to bring you to the Villa at once. Povera signora — she is 
 very grieved " 
 
 " The signor conte ! " exclaimed Don Basilio. " Do you mean 
 to say it is the Conte Vitali who is dead ? " 
 
 "Proprio lui! He died this morning, before sunrise. Rever- 
 endo, will you get up beside me ? In a quarter of an hour we 
 shall be at the Villa." 
 
 Don Basilio hurriedly got into the dog-cart without bestowing 
 another thought on his coffee. 
 
 *' It cannot be ! " he exclaimed. " It is surely some false report, 
 some mistake." 
 
 The boy at his side shook his head gloomily. " It is true," 
 he said, " purtroppo ! the portone of Palazzo Vitali is closed ; all 
 the city knows it. Povero signor conte ! everybody loved him — 
 everybody, except — " he paused suddenly, and drew his whip 
 lightly across the horse's flank 
 
 Don Basilio looked at him. " How did it happen ? " he asked. 
 "Two days ago I called at Palazzo Vitali, and he was going on 
 well — so well that the doctor declared all danger might be said to 
 be over. Two days ago — and to-day ! "
 
 320 TEMPTATION 
 
 " It was sudden, very sudden," said the lad, and then, as he 
 had done before, he checked himself abruptly, as though unwilling 
 to say more. Don Basilio, lost in his own thoughts, did not 
 notice his companion's hesitation. He was thinking of the life 
 thus cut off in the prime of its strength and manhood. He 
 thought too, of Vittoria di San Felice, for he knew that to her 
 the news would have come as a terrible shock. Surely, unless 
 Sacchetti had been mistaken from the first, some unaccount- 
 ably severe complication must have arisen within the past two 
 days to produce death so quickly ! And Sacchetti was not a 
 man who made mistakes — his reputation was too assured for 
 that. 
 
 The horse quickly covered the couple of miles between Don 
 Basilio's village and Villa Falconara, and very soon the dog-cart 
 swept into the open courtyard. It was scarcely eight o'clock, 
 but a servant who received the priest at the entrance door told 
 him the signora duchessa had given orders that he was at once 
 to be shown to her own sitting-room. The man escorted him to 
 the room, and opening the door, closed it quickly and silently 
 behind him. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice was standing in the centre of the room. 
 She was evidently awaiting his arrival with anxiety. Her face 
 was very pale, but she was perfectly composed, and her manner, 
 Don Basilio thought, was almost cold. Its coldness did not 
 deceive him. He had remarked it on another occasion, when 
 the news of her husband's death had been brought to her. At 
 the time he had wondered at it ; but of late years he had grown 
 to know her better. But what he did wonder at now was the 
 expression he saw on her face. That expression he had never 
 seen before. There was a look of horrified protest in her eyes, 
 and Don BasiHo could not help thinking that there was anger, 
 fierce anger, as well. 
 
 '* You have heard ? " she said, as he approached her. 
 
 " Vincenzo told me," rephed Don Basilio simply. 
 
 Vittoria walked to the window. 
 
 " They have murdered him," she said, in a low voice. 
 
 Don Basilio uttered a cry of horror. *' Duchessa ! " he
 
 TEMPTATION 321 
 
 exclaimed. " For the love of God ! do you know what you are 
 saying ! " 
 
 Looking always from the window, Vittoria continued in the 
 same low, level tones. "They have murdered him. Did not 
 Vincenzo tell you that ? It is what the people are saying in 
 Viterbo. Why else should he have died ? " 
 
 *' Because God took him. The other is monstrous — impossible. 
 Duchessa — let me entreat you to calm yourself." 
 
 Vittoria turned and looked at him. " Am I not calm ? " she 
 asked quietly. 
 
 "You have heard some ridiculous tale," continued Don 
 Basilio, "some gossip of the basso popolo in the city. It is 
 disgraceful that such a thing should have been told to you — that 
 it should have reached your ears ! " 
 
 " They have murdered him," repeated Vittoria di San Felice. 
 '* The people are right — and we, we have stood by and 
 allowed him to be murdered." Her voice broke a little, but the 
 look on her face never changed. 
 
 Don Basilio stared at her, convinced that the sudden shock 
 had been too much for her. An intense indignation arose 
 within him against those who, in bringing her the tidings of Ugo 
 Vitali's death, had also told her of some idle rumour that no 
 doubt was being discussed among the lower orders in Viterbo. 
 Had she not been completely upset by the news of Count 
 Vitali's death, it would have been impossible, Don Basilio 
 thought, that she should give a moment's attention to such a 
 report. 
 
 " Signora duchessa," he said gravely, " we have no right to 
 say such things, no right even to think them. You must 
 remember that from the first Count Ugo was in the hands of 
 Sacchetti, and we all know what Sacchetti is. No doubt the 
 basso popolo in Viterbo have set about among themselves some 
 silly story. It is often the way when death unexpectedly carries 
 off some prominent individual. The people love a mystery, or a 
 scandal. But you, duchessa, should not allow your mind to dwell 
 upon such things. It — it is unworthy of you ! " 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at him. " I know it is unworthy 
 
 X
 
 322 TEMPTATION 
 
 of me ! " she exclaimed, " but I feel that the people are right — 
 that what they say is true. Listen, Don Basilio. For long I 
 have known that Vitali was not happy with his wife. He never 
 told me so — no ! but I knew it all the same. Latterly he has 
 never been near me." 
 
 "That does not seem to me to prove he was unhappy at 
 home," observed Don Basilio, a little drily. 
 
 " I hoped that it proved the contrary," Vittoria said simply, 
 "but I do not think it did. Do you remember my saying to you 
 some weeks ago that, meaning to do right, I feared I had done 
 wrong — that I had interfered in what was no business of mine ? 
 As you know, on that occasion I sent Vitali back to his wife. 
 Meaning to be a loyal friend to him, I — the friend whom he 
 trusted more than he felt he could trust his wife — deserted him. 
 I was afraid of his confidence. Do you understand, Don Basilio ? 
 I was afraid." 
 
 "Yes," replied the priest gently. "I think I understand. 
 You were right to be afraid of it." 
 
 " I only saw him once again — only once," continued Vittoria, 
 "and then I understood that what I had done was of no use. I 
 remember you told me I had been too hasty in supposing that 
 Countess Vitali would look at things from my point of view. 
 Vitali acted upon my advice — yes ! and his wife continued to 
 deceive him. I had appealed to his chivalry, do you see ? but 
 I was afraid of speaking plainly to him, of telling him that I felt, 
 I knew, he was being deceived. Had I been a man, I could 
 have done it, but " 
 
 " I understand," repeated Don Basilio. " It is true," he 
 continued, " I did warn you that Countess Vitali might take 
 advantage of the fact that her husband had consulted you about 
 a letter reflecting on her conduct. It would have been better 
 had she never been made aware of it. She would never believe 
 that you had refused her husband's confidence, and that you had 
 only advised him to do what was honourable. But all this, 
 duchessa, is beside the point. Countess Vitali may be a bad 
 woman, and she may have deceived her husband. But you 
 have named graver things than these — things which, without
 
 TEMPTATION 323 
 
 positive proof, you have no right even to suspect. A great 
 sorrow has fallen upon you ; greater, probably, than you feel 
 yourself able to acknowledge even to yourself. But a great 
 sorrow should not make us unjust. Even Sacchetti may have 
 made a mistake, and may have been too ready to assume that all 
 danger of some sudden complication was past. Reflect a little, 
 duchessa. Would it not be impossible that Sacchetti should 
 have failed at once to detect any attempt at interference with his 
 treatment of the case? Moreover, if it be true that Countess 
 Vitali had succeeded in deceiving her husband, and I fear, from 
 what I have been told very recently, that there may be some 
 truth in the stories concerning her and Fabrizio Vitali— what 
 motive was there for committing a monstrous crime ? She had 
 only to continue her deception." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice was silent. 
 
 Don Basilio misinterpreted her silence, and thought he would 
 press his argument home. 
 
 "Forgive me," he said, "but, if this terrible idea has never 
 been put into your mind — if your servants had never told you of 
 what was being said in the obscure caffe and osterie in Viterbo — 
 would you ever have allowed yourself to suspect such a thing ? 
 Surely not, duchessa ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you," replied Vittoria presently. " All that I 
 can tell you is that something assures me the people are right, 
 that Vitali's death is not a natural death. It is useless to tell me 
 that I have no right to feel this — that I have no proof. I know 
 that I feel it — that I shall always feel it — and, sooner or later, I 
 will find out the truth." 
 
 This time it was Don Basilio who remained silent. He felt, 
 indeed, that it was no moment to argue with a woman who was 
 crushed beneath a grief which, as he suspected, was more bitter 
 than her pride or the convenances of the world would permit of her 
 acknowledging. All the same, he was not a little surprised at 
 what he could only beUeve to be an unreasoning attitude on the 
 Duchessa di San Felice's part. The idea was too montrous — too 
 impossible. He did not doubt that the Contessa Vitali was a 
 woman whose nature was evil, for he had felt evil to be near him
 
 324 TEMPTATION 
 
 whenever he had found himself in her presence. But Countess 
 Vitali could scarcely have acted alone, supposing her to be 
 capable of so diabolical an intrigue ; and he could not believe it 
 possible that Fabrizio Vitali, whom he had regarded as nothing 
 more than an amiable if rather weak young man possessed of a 
 thoughtful but untrained mind, could have lent himself to further- 
 ing a heartless crime. He told himself that, when the first effects 
 of the shock had passed, the duchessa would recover her better 
 judgment, and would display the same dignified courage which 
 he had seen her display in another great crisis in her life. But 
 in the meantime his heart bled for her, as the heart of a parent 
 might have bled for a daughter. Like many others in the 
 neighbourhood, he had at one time hoped to see a marriage 
 between the duchessa and her old friend Count Vitali. Her life, 
 with all its interests, was still a lonely one, for she was a young 
 woman yet. It had been a disappointment to Don Basilio when 
 Ugo Vitali had looked elsewhere for a wife, and the disappoint- 
 ment had been still greater when it became evident that Ugo had 
 not chosen wisely. The priest had always wondered whether it 
 was loyalty to her late husband alone which had prevented the 
 Duchessa di San Felice from allowing her friendship for Count 
 Vitali to develop into anything more than friendship. He could 
 understand how, owing to the subtle difference in their social 
 grades, a man like Ugo Vitali, nobly born though he was, would 
 hesitate before offering himself to a woman of the alia nobilta 
 like Vittoria di San Felice. Moreover, he knew that Ugo's pride 
 was as great, and most probably considerably greater than the 
 duchessa's. The whole thing had seemed to him suflficiently 
 absurd ; but then, as he had argued to himself, he was only a 
 simple parish priest, of middle-class origin, and it was useless for 
 him to try to understand the considerations by which others 
 born in a different sphere from his own might be influenced. 
 But it was certainly a pity to see two people so strongly in 
 sympathy with one another kept asunder, as Don Basilio strongly 
 suspected, by mere social prejudices and by a mutual fear of 
 appearing to be giving or asking too much. Since Count Vitali's 
 marriage the whole matter had seemed to be more pitiful than
 
 TEMPTATION 325 
 
 ever j and Don Basilio had recently often wondered to himself 
 whether the duchessa did not now realise the pity of it when it 
 was too late. If she did, she had certainly made no sign ; and 
 how loyally she had endeavoured to befriend the woman her 
 friend had married Don Basilio knew better, probably, than 
 anybody else. 
 
 " What do you wish me to do ? " he asked presently. " You 
 know that I will do anything — everything that I can to comfort 
 you, to relieve your mind. Only, I implore you, duchessa, do 
 not allow your thoughts to dwell on that horrible idea ! God has 
 acted as He has thought fit. He knows so much better than we, 
 in our ignorance, can ever know, until it pleases Him to open our 
 eyes, as He has opened the eyes of the friend for whom we are 
 mourning. But we have no right to assume that others have 
 dared to interfere with the will of God." 
 
 " He was recovering," said Vittoria, " and when they knew he 
 was recovering they killed him. How is it that you cannot 
 understand? She — that woman, killed him; how I do not know 
 — yet. And the other, her lover, he takes his cousin's name and 
 lands " 
 
 " Duchessa ! " exclaimed Don Basilio almost sternly, " I will 
 not listen to this. For the love of God, put these thoughts out of 
 your mind. They are morbid thoughts — unworthy of you. You 
 are not yet yourself, or you would not entertain them. Listen ! I 
 will tell you what I will do. I will go to Viterbo — to Palazzo 
 Vitali. There I shall learn what has caused this rumour to get 
 about. Sacchetti is my intimate friend. He will tell me 
 everything ; and the old servant, Taddeo — he has known me 
 these five and twenty years. But, before I go, I will say a mass 
 in the chapel — you understand ? Oh, I am still fasting — there is 
 no difficulty ! And afterwards I will go to Viterbo. Coraggio, 
 signora duchessa ! coraggio, figlia mia ! God knows what is best 
 for him, and for us." 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at him steadily. 
 
 *' I do not lack courage," she said. " When I know that God 
 has willed this thing, I shall be content. But, until I am assured 
 that He has willed it, I cannot rest."
 
 326 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Unless He had willed it, it could not have happened," said 
 Don Basilio gently. " Even if what you think were true, God 
 would still have willed it, for some merciful purpose of His own, 
 which we do not yet know — but which He will reveal to us if we 
 have eyes to see, and an intelligence to understand." 
 
 A few minutes later, in the presence of Vittoria di San Felice 
 and her household, Don Basilio said a mass for the departed. 
 
 When, later on, he took leave of Vittoria di San Felice he 
 looked into her face and saw that the expression he had wondered 
 at when he had come to her had not left it. He turned from her 
 with a sigh, and for the first time a terrible doubt of what he 
 might learn at Palazzo Vitali filled his heart. 
 
 Could it be, he wondered, that in some mysterious way the 
 truth had been conveyed to her ? or would he be able to return 
 to her with assurances which would dispel for ever the look he 
 read in her eyes ?
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A S the hour ai)proached when he would again meet Cristina, 
 '^^ Fabrizio Vitali felt more than ever as a man might feel 
 when about to face a terrible ordeal. The sense of some coming 
 evil — some horror from which he could not escape — oppressed him 
 with ever increasing intensity, and he now no longer struggled to 
 free himself from it. There was no use in struggling. The 
 horror, whatever it might be, was there; waiting for him. He 
 knew that he could neither retreat before it, nor pass it. Again 
 and again he told himself that it could not be that — the monstrous 
 thing which Professor Sacchetti had told him was the rumour 
 current in Viterbo. Sacchetti himself did not believe in the 
 possibility of Ugo's death being due to any but purely natural 
 causes. But of course Sacchetti was obliged to protect his own 
 reputation ; and his suggestion that an autopsia should be held 
 was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. How could Cristina have 
 been so mistaken as to oppose it ? To be sure, as Sacchetti had 
 confessed, he had not ventured even to hint to her his real 
 motive for demanding her consent to making an examination — 
 he had preferred to leave this painful task to him, Fabrizio, who 
 was now Ugo's legal representative and the head of a family 
 consisting only of himself. It was incredible to suppose that, had 
 Cristina guessed the doctor's real motive, she would not at once 
 have given way, and have insisted on a full investigation being 
 made which should for ever silence all malicious insinuations. 
 No — that could not be the evil he was dreading ! 
 
 Perhaps, after all, it was Cristina herself he was dreading. It 
 had all been different a few hours ago. Then he was merely in 
 the position of hundreds, of thousands of other men — the lover 
 of another man's wife. The matter had seemed to him to be 
 exceeding simple — of an everyday simplicity. What was it, he 
 asked himself, that had altered the whole aspect of his position —
 
 328 TEMPTATION 
 
 his and Cristina's? Was it that the presence of death stood 
 between them ? Fabrizio remembered with a shudder how he and 
 Cristina had discussed even this contingency, and that she had ex- 
 tracted from him a promise of what he would do should it ever occur. 
 
 It was true that he had always shrunk from allowing his mind 
 to dwell upon the chances of his cousin's death. He remembered 
 now the frequency with which Cristina would remind him that, 
 should any fatality occur to Ugo, he would step into Ugo's shoes. 
 Sometimes it had seemed that she took a kind of malicious 
 pleasure in recalling the fact to him. In the earlier days of their 
 acquaintance, Fabrizio had wondered whether his cousin's wife 
 was not attempting to discover to what extent he might be 
 calculating upon his chances of becoming Count Vitali and 
 owner of the Vitali estates. But it was one thing to discuss a 
 remote contingency, and quite another thing to find this con- 
 tingency suddenly turned into an accomplished fact. The 
 thought that Ugo was lying dead only a few rooms away from 
 him was almost unbearable to Fabrizio in his present frame of 
 mind. He felt as though he were in some way guilty of Ugo's 
 death — that idle thoughts in the past had borne a terrible 
 fruition. 
 
 The lawyer and Professor Sachetti had left him alone as soon 
 as breakfast was concluded ; the professor saying that he would 
 return to Palazzo Vitali before four o'clock in order to learn the 
 result of Fabrizio's interview with Countess VitaU. In a few 
 minutes Taddeo would probably come to announce that Cristina 
 was ready to receive him, and Fabrizio watched the hands of 
 a clock as they travelled steadily and inexorably towards the 
 appointed hour. Whatever happened, he told himself, he must 
 be firm in supporting Sacchetti's suggestion. Cristina surely 
 would see the necessity for at once allowing the doctor to have 
 his way. But how could he tell her of this ridiculous idea 
 that had got abroad in Viterbo, in the truth of which apparently 
 even Taddeo and the servants had some belief, or pretended 
 that they had so ? Sacchetti had hinted that the rumour had its 
 origin in the hostility of her husband's people to Countess Vitali. 
 He, Fabrizio, was quite well aware of Cristina's unpopularity in
 
 TEMPTATION 329 
 
 and around Viterbo. She had never taken the trouble to conceal 
 that she was aware of it herself. He knew, too, that gossip had 
 coupled his name with hers. The anonymous letter Ugo had 
 received was a proof that this had been the case. 
 
 By degrees Fabrizio was beginning to be able to reason more 
 clearly. No doubt, he thought, as he paced up and down the 
 room waiting for the moment when he should have to go to 
 Cristina, this abominable rumour had been spread by those who 
 had detected, or believed they had detected, the relations between 
 him and his cousin's wife. He knew well how eagerly even 
 the most unlikely tales were believed by the lower classes. The 
 people, Ugo's people, would know that he was the gainer by his 
 cousin's death ; and if they believed in a love-intrigue between 
 him and Countess Vitali, it would need little imagination to 
 carry that belief still further and suspect Count Vitali's death to 
 have been brought about by unnatural means and not from 
 results due to his accident. 
 
 Who could tell whether Sacchetti and the lawyer were not 
 aware that this was what the Viterbesi were in reality saying? 
 Fabrizio had noticed the look of relief on both Sacchetti's and 
 the lawyer's faces when he had at once declared his intention of 
 imploring Countess Vitali to fall in with the doctor's wishes. He 
 had been conscious that Professor Sacchetti had been watching 
 him narrowly, most likely suspiciously. Notwithstanding the 
 suavity of the professor's words, and the courtesy of his manner, 
 the covert warning which had underlain both had not been lost 
 on Fabrizio. A single word of doubt from the doctor who had 
 attended Ugo, a refusal to give to the authorities the necessary 
 certificate as to the causes of death, and no objections on 
 Cristina's part would have any other result than that of increasing 
 existing suspicions. Yes ; he must explain this to her, and point 
 out to her tliat only by allowing Sacchetti full liberty to make his 
 examination could she silence rumours which, if not proved to be 
 utterly groundless, would place both her and himself in a terrible 
 position. Moreover, he must show her that she was powerless to 
 stop Sacchetti, if he really intended to hold an aulopsia, and that 
 he did intcuJ to do so Fabrizio was convinced. Naturally
 
 330 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina could have no real objections, why should she have 
 them ? Probably she had only regarded Sacchetti's proposal as 
 unnecessary, and, of course, painful. But then Sacchetti had not 
 told her all the truth 
 
 In the midst of Fabrizio's reflections Taddeo entered the room. 
 
 " The signora contessa would be pleased if the signor conte 
 would join her in the gallery," he said. 
 
 Fabrizio started violently. His back had been turned to the 
 door, and he had not heard the man come in. 
 
 "Tell her that I will come immediately," he said. 
 
 Taddeo lingered for a moment. He looked curiously at 
 Fabrizio, and seemed as though he wished to speak but could not 
 make up his mind to do so. Something in his attitude irritated 
 Fabrizio's already highly-strung nerves. As he had told Professor 
 Sacchetti, he did not intend to have any discussion with Taddeo 
 before he had spoken with Cristina. 
 
 " Kindly take my message at once to the signora contessa," he 
 said quickly. " In a few minutes I will come into the gallery. 
 You need not return. I shall follow you." 
 
 Taddeo went from the room without a word. There was 
 something in Fabrizio's manner which effectually checked his 
 desire to speak. Even at that moment Fabrizio found himself 
 wondering bitterly why life seemed altogether changed. What 
 was this thing that had arisen between Cristina and himself? It 
 was not that he did not love her any more. Even then, as he 
 thought of her, his pulses quickened. But something lay between 
 them ; that mysterious, oppressive sense of threatening evil from 
 which he could not free himself. Yes, it was that, and that only ; 
 not Death, keeping his Court so close to them ; not even this 
 odious suspicion that Death had not entered of his own will, — for 
 in a few hours, when Sacchetti's examination had been made, 
 nobody would ever dare again to breathe so foul a rumour. If 
 only he could put into definite form this evil which haunted 
 him ! at least it would then be easier to grapple with it and 
 fight it. 
 
 Strange ! a few days ago he would have hastened to Cristina's 
 side. How many opportunities of meeting had they not planned
 
 TEMPTATION 331 
 
 together, opportunities when Ugo was away and the servants busy 
 with their various occupations in distant parts of the palazzo? 
 And now, he wished that he and Cristina were a thousand miles 
 apart, and that they were not going to meet again until this 
 haunting fear had left him. 
 
 Well, as Sacchetti had significantly observed, time pressed ! 
 The dead was waiting ; and, what was of even more importance, 
 the living were waiting, to be cleared from all suspicion, however 
 unwarrantable and absurd, of a monstrous crime. Summoning 
 up all his resolution, Fabrizio left the room and bent his steps 
 towards the gallery. 
 
 At first, in the subdued light, the long apartment seemed to be 
 empty. It was only after he had advanced a few paces into the 
 room that Fabrizio saw Countess Vitali standing at its further end, 
 beneath the portrait of Donna Giulia. She was dressed in black ; 
 and as he drew nearer to her Fabrizio saw that her face was very 
 pale, but that on each cheek there glowed a feverish patch of red. 
 
 She came forward a few steps to meet him, and then they stood 
 looking at one another in silence. 
 
 " Cristina ! " exclaimed Fabrizio, as the silence became intoler- 
 able, " I came at once, as soon as I could get a train. It is 
 horrible — horrible ! Who could have thought that it would end 
 like this ! Certainly not Sacchetti — he " 
 
 " Sacchetti has been mistaken throughout," Cristina interrupted, 
 in dry, level tones. "He should have had another opinion. 
 Yes — it is — a terrible shock, because at the last it was sudden, 
 Fabrizio — very sudden! Sicuro ! I blame Sacchetti; but the 
 best of doctors can make a mistake sometimes. After all, 
 Sacchetti warned us from the first that some dangerous com- 
 plication might arise." 
 
 She spoke slowly and calmly, as though measuring her words ; 
 and all the time she was speaking her eyes never left Fabrizio's 
 face. It was in her eyes that Fabrizio read a feverish anxiety that 
 belied the calmness of her manner. 
 
 " It is horrible ! " he repeated. " I would give everything — 
 everything, that Ugo were still with us ! " 
 
 " Everything, Fabrizio ? "
 
 332 TEMPTATION 
 
 Cristina's voice had changed suddenly, but Fabrizio scarcely 
 noticed the imploring tone now ringing in it. 
 
 " It would have been different had it been an illness," he 
 continued, "but to be struck down like that — in full health and 
 life " 
 
 "But Sacchetti warned us," insisted Cristina; "you must 
 always remember that he warned us. And it was not really so 
 very sudden, Fabrizio. There were symptoms which Sacchetti 
 did not like. He told me so, but I thought they would pass, and 
 so I did not telegraph to you until — until Ugo was suddenly 
 seized with violent cramps, and then he became unconscious. 
 He was unconscious till — till the end. Fabrizio ! why do you 
 look at me hke that ? Of course I am sorry — shocked — but can 
 I be more than that? You know that I cannot ! with you I will 
 not be hypocritical enough to play at it. With others, it is 
 a different thing ! " 
 
 "Yes — with others," repeated Fabrizio. "You are right, 
 Cristina — quite right ! For God's sake let us think of nothing 
 now but how we have to conduct ourselves before others ! That 
 is why I sent to ask you to receive me without delay." 
 
 Cristina started, and her face became paler than ever. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked quickly. " Of course I shall 
 do all that a woman in my position is expected to do. I must do 
 it — for your sake and my own ! Afterwards " 
 
 " We cannot think of the afterwards ! " interrupted Fabrizio 
 abruptly. " We have to think of the present — to protect ourselves 
 against an unnameable suspicion " 
 
 Cristina turned upon him almost fiercely. 
 
 " What do suspicions signify ? " she exclaimed. " Do we not 
 know that we have been suspected? Ugo had that letter, you 
 remember. What happened this morning has freed us from all 
 danger of those suspicions, as you call them, being able to hurt 
 us. Now that it is no longer possible to make a scandal, people 
 will soon forget their suspicions, and even if they remember them 
 — afterwards — what does it matter ? " 
 
 "It is not that," returned Fabrizio eagerly. "You do not 
 understand, Cristina, because Sacchetti did not explain things to
 
 TEMPTATION 333 
 
 you. But I must explain them ; and you must be guided 
 by me." 
 
 Cristina looked at him quickly, with a rapid, furtive glance. 
 
 "What did Sacchetti not explain?" she asked hastily. 
 
 Fabrizio drew nearer to her and led her to a chair. "You 
 must sit down," he said gently, " and let me talk to you. I shall 
 have to say things that are painful, but when you have heard 
 them, you will understand better ; and you will allow Sacchetti to 
 do what he wants." 
 
 Cristina tore herself away from him. 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed. " So Sacchetti has told you of the pro- 
 position he made to me ! But it is horrible, Fabrizio, and I will 
 never give my consent — never ! Besides, Sacchetti has no right 
 to ask it." 
 
 " He has every right," said Fabrizio quietly. " Moreover, if 
 he chooses to insist upon it, neither your objections nor mine 
 would carry the least weight. Listen, Cristina ! there is a rumour 
 about among the people that Ugo's death was not a natural death. 
 We know, of course, and Sacchetti knows that this is nonsense. 
 But a report of that kind once started is a very disagreeable 
 thing, the more so as Ugo was not expected to die, either by 
 Sacchetti or by anybody else. Do you not see now that it is our 
 duty, yours and mine, to insist upon Sacchetti's holding an autopsia, 
 in order that he may be able once for all to put an end to such a 
 monstrous idea?" 
 
 " I see nothing of the kind ! " answered Cristina angrily. " I 
 see that Sacchetti realises that he has made a grave mistake in not 
 having discovered the real nature of Ugo's injuries, but I refuse to 
 allow an examination to be made merely to enable him to justify 
 himself. It is useless, Fabrizio — I tell you that I will never 
 consent ! " 
 
 " But you must consent ! " exclaimed Fabrizio. " Cannot you 
 understand? you must. More than that, you must send for 
 Sacchetti and tell him it is your wish — and mine as Ugo's repre- 
 sentative — that an autopsia should be made. If you oppose him, 
 he will refuse to give his certificate of death ; and these abominable 
 reports will be believed. People will say that you, that we, have
 
 334 TEMPTATION 
 
 some horrible reason for wishing to conceal the cause of Ugo's 
 death. Cristina, for the love of God be reasonable ! You cannot 
 withhold your consent, now that you know what is being said. 
 It does not matter at all that this story is the gossip of the basso 
 popolo. If we are supposed to have placed any difficulties in 
 Sacchetti's way, everybody will continue to suspect us, and all 
 the more because they already suspect us of — of other things. 
 Cristina ! per carita, do not look like that ! What are you look- 
 ing at ? " 
 
 Fabrizio broke off with a cry of horror. Cristina's gaze was 
 fixed on the portrait of Donna Giulia. Her eyes seemed as 
 though they were being drawn from their sockets, and her features 
 twitched convulsively. 
 
 " Cristina ! " he exclaimed again. " What is the matter ? For 
 God's sake do not stare at that cursed picture — but answer me ! 
 Why should not Sacchetti do as he wishes? What possible 
 difference can it make to you — now? You must consent, I tell 
 you, for your own sake and for mine ! Cristina — oh, my God ! " 
 
 Fabrizio started back horror-stricken, his hands clasped to his 
 head. Countess Vitali had withdrawn her gaze from the picture, 
 and from her lips came laughter — the laughter he had again heard 
 in his dream the night before, and of which he fancied he had 
 caught the faint echo a short time ago when talking with Professor 
 Sacchetti. 
 
 " Why do you laugh ? " he cried again. " My God, why do you 
 laugh— like that ? " 
 
 Cristina turned her eyes towards him. The drawn expression 
 had vanished from them, and they were cold and lustreless. 
 
 " Are you mad, Fabrizio ? " she said, in a dulled, monotonous 
 voice. " Why should I laugh ? because Ugo is dead, perhaps ? 
 Ah, but now I am free, and belong to you, my beloved ! Did I 
 laugh? Well, if I did, it is better to laugh than to cry, is it not? 
 Crying is for the San Felice to-day ; but not for us, Fabrizio mio, 
 not for us ! " 
 
 "Cristina, taci, per piet^, taci ! Do you want to make me hate 
 you ? Is it I who am mad and hear you say things you do not 
 say — laugh, when you do not laugh ? "
 
 TEMPTATION 335 
 
 "And you have come back, not as guest but as master," 
 continued Cristina, without heeding him. " Ugo is dead, and 
 you are Count Vitali. The house and the lands are yours. 
 Filippi told you, did he not ? And afterwards, I shall be yours 
 too, more yours than ever, Fabrizio ! Only, we shall have to wait 
 a little ; a year, perhaps. But it will only be a pretence of waiting. 
 A few days ago we knew that we could not wait any longer, amore 
 mio, and " 
 
 "Cristina!" 
 
 She glanced at him ; struck, perhaps, by the note of agony in 
 his voice. And, indeed, Fabrizio Vitali was gazing at her with an 
 expression of horror on his countenance that he was powerless to 
 conceal. With a visible effort Countess Vitali seemed to force 
 herself into a more natural mood. She passed her hand across 
 her eyes with a gesture of weariness, and when she spoke again 
 it was in a voice more like her own. 
 
 " Povero Fabrizio mio ! " she said softly. " You must forgive 
 me, but I am scarcely myself to-day. And I am tired, too, oh, 
 so tired ! I should like to sleep for a year. What were you 
 saying just now ? I forget. Ah, about Sacchetti and his horrible 
 suggestion. Do not let us think of it again. You must tell him 
 that I will never consent to it. The canaglia in Viterbo can 
 say and think what it chooses. What does it matter to you or 
 to me what people say?" 
 
 Fabrizio looked at her in despair. 
 
 '* I dare not tell Sacchetti that," he said. " Cristina mia," he 
 added, "now you are like yourself again. A moment ago you 
 were not yourself. Your words, your thoughts, your voice even, 
 were as if they were not your own. You are nervous, upset by 
 all you have had to go through during the past few days. But 
 you must be sensible, carissima. You must agree to Sacchetti's 
 wishes, however painful it may be for you to do so. Besides, as 
 I have already explained to you, we have no choice but to agree. 
 Sacchetti is quite aware that we are in his power. He asked for 
 your consent as a mere formality, an act of delicacy ; and he asked 
 for mine as representing the family." 
 
 " And you gave it ? " asked Cristina quickly.
 
 336 TEMPTATION 
 
 " Of course I gave it ! Why should I not have done so? And 
 you must give yours, Cristina ; you must tell Sacchetti that, had 
 you known what I have since told you, you would never have 
 opposed his wish for an autopsia. He is to return at four o'clock, 
 nominally to learn your decision. In reality, of course, he will 
 come prepared to carry out his examination whether you wish it 
 or not." 
 
 " He has threatened that ? " 
 
 " Practically — yes. He did not actually say so ; but he made 
 his meaning clear, nevertheless. Via, Cristina, you can have no 
 serious objection, any more than I can have one ! It is absurd, 
 and worse than absurd, for you to oppose it. Moreover, you have 
 never told me why you object." 
 
 Cristina was silent. Fabrizio watched her anxiously. 
 
 " I quite understand how painful the idea must be to you," he 
 continued gently, " but, indeed, we have no choice. We cannot 
 allow anybody to suspect us of some hidden reason for having 
 opposed Sacchetti's wishes. Unfortunately, too, it is not only 
 among the basso popolo in Viterbo that this horrible idea has 
 circulated. Even Taddeo seems to be suspicious." 
 
 "Taddeo ! " exclaimed Countess Vitali. 
 
 " So Sacchetti told me." 
 
 Again Cristina relapsed into silence. Fabrizio saw, however, 
 that she was strangely agitated. She began to walk restlessly up 
 and down the gallery, and her face bore upon it the signs of a 
 terrible mental struggle. Fabrizio's heart sank within him as he 
 watched her, and gradually a doubt stole into his mind from 
 which he recoiled with a feeling akin to terror. Why could she 
 not understand — he asked himself — now that she knew all, what 
 could her reason be for hesitating? Suddenly, that vague sense 
 of evil, the exact nature of which a short time ago he had longed 
 to be able to define, seemed as it were to materialise itself in 
 his mind. He knew now what it was he had dreaded. He 
 tried to wrestle with his doubt as though it were some tangible 
 thing — some Being which he could overthrow and cast out of his 
 path. But the thing closed with him, grappled with him — 
 vanquished him.
 
 TEMPTATION 337 
 
 He was conscious that Cristina was watching him narrowly, 
 earnestly, with that terrible look of anxiety always in her eyes. 
 The sweat broke out on his forehead again, as it had done 
 when Professor Sacchetti had told him what was being said in 
 Viterbo. 
 
 " Cristina ! " he cried. " Cristina — you still hesitate ? You 
 must be mad to hesitate any longer. Surely you understand 
 everything now ! Sacchetti must make the examination — he 
 must, I tell you. I shall insist upon his doing so, even against 
 your wishes — for afterwards you will see that I was right, and you 
 will thank me. Why do you not answer ? why do you not say at 
 once that neither you nor I have anything to fear?" 
 
 Cristina drew nearer to him. "You will insist?" she said in 
 a low voice. "You will allow Sacchetti to make his examina- 
 tion? Well, you are within your right. Did I not tell you 
 that you had returned as master here? Only, you do not 
 understand — that is all. You have never understood." 
 
 " Understood — what ? " asked Fabrizio. His brain was reeling, 
 and he was scarcely conscious of what he said. Surely the evil 
 was very near to him now — and he was fighting, fighting as 
 though for his life here and hereafter, if there was a hereafter. 
 
 " That I have loved you ! " 
 
 Fabrizio laughed aloud. "Love? "he said. "I do not want 
 to hear about that — now ! I want to save our honour — yours 
 and mine. We can talk of love afterwards. Only, for God's 
 sake, speak. Tell me that you do not oppose Sacchetti because 
 — because you are afraid. Why should you be afraid, Cristina — 
 why?" 
 
 Cristina looked at him intently, as though trying to read his 
 very soul. 
 
 " It is true," she said quietly. " I am afraid." 
 
 Fabrizio gave a low cry of horror and dismay. 
 
 " You talk of saving our honour," Cristina continued in dry, 
 quick tones, " but you must save me, me, Fabrizio ! If Sacchetti 
 insists on an autopsia, I am lost. It is better that you should 
 know it. You must prevent it — do you understand ? At all 
 costs you must prevent it ! " 
 y
 
 S38 TEMPTATION 
 
 Fabrizio started away from her with a gesture of aversion and 
 horror. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he asked hoarsely. " Do you know 
 what your words imply? Ugo is dead — and you are afraid that it 
 should be known how he died ! Ah," he added quickly, conscious 
 that he was fighting desperately to the end, "forgive me, forgive 
 me, Cristina mia — I cannot understand yet — and I have horrible 
 thoughts. You need not be afraid. It will be a mere formality 
 — to satisfy Sacchetti, and to enable him to tell people the 
 truth " 
 
 " Ah, no, no ! You must prevent it, Fabrizio, otherwise — 
 Listen," Cristina continued, in low, passionate tones. " I killed 
 him — killed him, Fabrizio, because I love you. Why should I 
 not tell you, since it was for your sake that I did it. Sacchetti 
 had made no mistake. Ugo was getting well — and when I knew 
 that he must get well, I gave him the morfina. But 1 dared not 
 delay too long, lest Sacchetti should suspect — and yesterday I 
 gave in the twelve hours the quantity which should have been 
 distributed over three days. That is why I am afraid. Sacchetti 
 will certainly find traces of so large a dose " 
 
 Fabrizio gazed at her in speechless amazement. Not a sign of 
 remorse or pity could be detected in her manner or her words, 
 and still less any sense of horror; only fear of discovery, and 
 perhaps regret at having risked discovery by being too precipitate 
 in the accomplishment of her crime. Even in that terrible 
 moment Fabrizio found himself marvelling at the complete 
 absence of moral sense in the woman with whom he had believed 
 himself to be in love. She was not a woman, nor even human, 
 he told himself shudderingly — only a beautiful animal. 
 
 Cristina paused, but presently Fabrizio heard her words coming 
 to him as though spoken at a great distance, or in a dream. 
 They were terrible words — he felt that ; but he felt too, that he 
 had no power to check them. His brain and his mind alike 
 seemed to be numbed and paralysed. 
 
 " I hated him always," he heard her saying, " but latterly, for 
 your sake, I made him believe I loved him. That was terrible, 
 for I had to endure his passion, and his passion turned my hate
 
 TEMPTATION 339 
 
 into loathing. Then came his accident, and with it the 
 opportunity to carry out what I intended to do. Sacchetti 
 prescribed injections of morfina. I bought morfina — you told 
 me it was easy to buy it, Fabrizio — and I gave it to Ugo 
 repeatedly, in his food and drink. So, unknown to Sacchetti, 
 Ugo was daily taking far more than the quantity prescribed. 
 But I made a mistake in giving the morfina too frequently 
 during the last two days — for Sacchetti frightened me. He told 
 me that the time was all but passed when complications might 
 have been expected, and that Ugo would almost certainly be 
 well before long. Do you understand, Fabrizio ? I hated Ugo, 
 and we, you and I, had often talked together of how much 
 more fitted you were to be Count Vitali, and owner of money and 
 lands. Well, you are all that now — and my love has given them 
 to you. And you will save me, will you not, Fabrizio ? You 
 will prevent the autopsia. Perhaps Ugo would have died in any 
 case — but I could not wait. I wanted to feel that I had put you 
 in his place " 
 
 " Disgraziata /" 
 
 Cristina started. " Fabrizio ! " she cried. " Why do you look 
 at me like that — as if you hated me ? Have I not risked every- 
 thing because of my love for you ? I never meant to tell you 
 that I killed Ugo. If I had been more careful, nobody would 
 ever have guessed the truth. Even an autopsia would not have 
 revealed it. But I could not wait — that was my folly. We must 
 think — think what we can do to induce Sacchetti to give up his 
 idea — must we not ? " 
 
 She put her hands on Fabrizio's arm as she said these words, 
 but with an exclamation of horror and disgust he flung them 
 away. 
 
 "Do not touch me," he muttered, "do not dare to touch me! 
 You are right — I hate you — hate you, do you understand ? You 
 are a double murderess, for you have taken your husband's life 
 and you have killed my honour. You have made me an assassin 
 like yourself." 
 
 Cristina drew back suddenly, and stood before him rigid and 
 white as marble. A long silence fell between them, and the
 
 340 TEMPTATION 
 
 portrait of Donna Giulia looked down upon them, smiling 
 always, but sneering as it smiled. 
 
 Suddenly Fabrizio broke the silence, speaking to himself. He 
 seemed neither to see nor to heed Cristina. " I must think," he 
 muttered. " I must think, before my brain gives way and I go 
 mad ! " 
 
 The clock on the garden fagade of Palazzo Vitali struck three. 
 The sound seemed to re-echo through the silent gallery and 
 roused Fabrizio as if from a lethargy. 
 
 " It is three o'clock," he said, raising his eyes to Cristina's face. 
 " At four o'clock Sacchetti will be here for his answer." 
 
 Countess Vitali met his gaze steadily, almost indifferently. 
 " You stand in Ugo's place," she said coldly. " It is for you to 
 give Sacchetti his answer. As you have told me that you hate 
 me, I suppose you will allow him to perform the autopsia." 
 
 " Yes — I shall do more than allow it ; I shall insist upon its 
 being performed," replied Fabrizio calmly. *' But I shall do no 
 more than that," he added. " By the result of Sacchetti's 
 examination you shall be judged — but not by me. If Sacchetti 
 finds proofs of poisoning by morfina, an enquiry will be held. So 
 long as you can clear yourself from suspicion without that 
 suspicion falling on some innocent person, I shall keep silence — for 
 I am as guilty as you, Cristina. Only, when I leave this room, I 
 shall never willingly see you again." 
 
 As he spoke, Fabrizio Vitali was astonished at his own calm- 
 ness. The evil which he had felt to be haunting him had unveiled 
 itself, and the very horror of it seemed to lend him temporary 
 strength. The oppression of its presence had been lifted, to be 
 succeeded by a sense of personal guilt. When he had told 
 Cristina that he was as guilty as she, he had spoken what he felt 
 to be the truth, a truth which would be with him until the day of 
 his death. 
 
 Countess Vitali listened to him in silence, and when he had 
 ceased speaking she moved a step or two towards him. 
 
 "It is three o'clock, Fabrizio," she said quietly, "and at four 
 o'clock Sacchetti comes for his answer, is it not so? Well, that 
 is only an hour. I am going to my room now ; but, in an hour's
 
 TEMPTATION 341 
 
 time, at four o'clock, I will be here again — on this spot. Before 
 you see Sacchetti, will you return here and see me once again? 
 I — I shall have something further to tell you, and I think you 
 will not refuse to come — once more — to me. Then you can take 
 my answer to Sacchetti. It will be as well he should know that 
 I have no reason any longer to oppose his wishes, will it not ? 
 You will grant my request, Fabrizio; you will promise me that 
 you will come — here, at four o'clock. You will find me sitting 
 under Donna GiuHa's picture." 
 
 " I will come," replied Fabrizio briefly. 
 
 " That is well. Until then I have much to do — " Her voice 
 broke suddenly. "Fabrizio!" she exclaimed, "before God, I 
 loved you — I love always ! and what I have done, I have done for 
 love of you." 
 
 She waited for a moment, and looked at Fabrizio wistfully, but 
 he neither moved nor answered. Then she slowly went from the 
 gallery, leaving him alone. 
 
 How long he remained there, Fabrizio never knew. The 
 shock he had received had left him scarcely capable of consecutive 
 thought. With that strange wandering of the mind that almost 
 invariably accompanies a crushing blow or a great sorrow, his 
 attention fixed itself on trifling details around him. He found 
 himself wondering why he had never before noticed that the 
 damask of the window curtains in the gallery was of an entirely 
 different texture and design from the damask hangings on the 
 walls, and that more than one of the pictures was badly damaged. 
 Then his glance fell upon the portrait of Donna Giulia and he 
 turned away hastily. He dreaded lest he should again hear the 
 laugh ringing in his ears. It was not any longer a laugh heard in 
 a dream. He had reaUy heard it — nay, it was as though he had 
 seen it — issuing from Cristina's lips only a few minutes ago, the 
 lips he had kissed so passionately, the lips of a murderess. He 
 could not, would not remain alone in the gallery, alone with 
 Donna Giulia's eyes following his every movement. In a short 
 time he would have to return to the room to hear what Cristina 
 might have to tell him before he parted from her ; but after that 
 he would be glad if he never had to enter it again. He walked
 
 342 TEMPTATION 
 
 hastily to the door at the further end of the gallery, and returned 
 to the apartment next the dining-room, where Professor Sacchetti 
 and the lawyer had left him after breakfast. Here at least he 
 hoped to remain undisturbed, to be able to think. What, he 
 asked himself, had he still to learn from Cristina? whatever it 
 might be it could not be more horrible than what he had already 
 heard from her. Had she no heart — no feeling ? She had told 
 him that what she had done she had done for love of him ! 
 Surely she was like some half-civilised peasant woman, with the 
 glamour of beauty, and the veneer of education concealing a 
 nature devoid of any moral sense and powerless to bridle passions 
 once aroused. She had traded upon the unsuspiciousness of 
 Ugo's nature, and to the last had deceived him with words of 
 love, and murder in her heart. Ah, but he, too, Fabrizio, had he 
 not traded upon Ugo's guilelessness, and had not he, too, deceived 
 him ? Would Ugo be now lying dead had he not deceived him ? 
 If he had been loyal to Ugo and had met his confidence 
 and trustfulness as they deserved to be met, if he had not yielded 
 to the mad passion which Cristina's beauty had excited in him, 
 would Ugo be lying dead — murdered ? 
 
 The power of thinking consecutively had returned now, and 
 the thoughts came relentlessly; a grim procession of accusing 
 memories, a record of trust betrayed and generous friendship 
 abused. Fabrizio Vitali groaned aloud, and buried his face in his 
 hands. He had come into his inheritance — but at what a cost ! 
 
 He looked at his watch. Only a quarter of an hour more, and 
 Sacchetti would return. There was no time now for remorse — that 
 would be always with him to the end of his life. But now he 
 must act, and act promptly. He vsrould do as he had warned 
 Cristina he intended to do, insist upon Sacchetti making his 
 examination ; but he would keep silence as to what he knew, 
 unless the result of the mitopsia caused Sacchetti's suspicions to 
 fall on some innocent person. If this were the case, he must 
 speak, or he must force Cristina to speak. Yes \ at four o'clock 
 he would return to the gallery and tell her that nothing would 
 move him from this decision. He would hear what she had still 
 to tell him, and then he would go to Sacchetti, or await his
 
 TEMPTATION 343 
 
 arrival. What was that noise? surely something had fallen, or a 
 door had been violently slammed ! 
 
 Fabrizio listened intently. With Death in the house a sudden 
 noise jars upon the nerves of the living, who fear lest it should 
 disturb the sleep of the dead. No further sound broke the still- 
 ness of the quiet house, and Fabrizio came to the conclusion 
 that the noise he heard must have been imaginary, A few minutes 
 passed, and then the clock of Palazzo Vitali struck four. 
 
 Before the last stroke had died away, the door opened ; and 
 Taddeo, seeing that Fabrizio was in the room, announced the 
 signor Professore Sacchetti. The doctor advanced ; and Fabrizio 
 felt as well as saw his quick, inquiring glance. 
 
 " I am punctual, conte," he said, " but as I told you, time 
 presses. I trust you have persuaded the signora contessa to 
 agree with me that an autopsia is advisable. I will be frank with 
 you, and tell you that, in order to contradict assertions which are 
 being made more freely than ever in the city, it is absolutely 
 necessary." 
 
 "Please understand, professore," said Fabrizio, "that as my 
 cousin's legal heir and representative, I should insist upon an 
 autopsia being held, even if you, as the medico curante, saw no 
 absolute necessity for it." 
 
 The professor looked at him quickly. 
 
 " Sta bene," he said briefly. 
 
 "I have seen the contessa," continued Fabrizio, "and — 
 and — " he hesitated, and leaned his arm on the back of a chair 
 as if seeking for support. 
 
 " Ah," observed Professor Sacchetti, " and she, perhaps, is still 
 opposed to the idea ? " 
 
 "She could scarcely be opposed to it, after having been in- 
 formed of your motive for urging it," Fabrizio replied, in a low 
 voice. "The contessa," he added, "has authorised me to say 
 that she now has no reason to object — and I, as I have already 
 said, have every reason to insist." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti's face was impenetrable. 
 
 " It is a wise decision, signor conte," he said quietly. 
 
 " I must ask you to excuse me for a few minutes," resumed
 
 344 TEMPTATION 
 
 Fabrizio. " I promised the contessa that I would return to her 
 at four o'clock, and it is now a few minutes past the hour. She 
 desired to see me again before you arrived, in order, I believe, to 
 give me some final instructions as to her wishes. I will return to 
 you immediately." 
 
 The professor bowed. " S'immagini ! " he said politely. 
 "Pray do not inconvenience yourself, conte. I will await you 
 here." 
 
 Fabrizio left the room, and the professor accompanied him to 
 the double doors which Taddeo had forgotten to close. An 
 ante-chamber, the anti-camera to Cardinal Astorre Vitali's apart- 
 ments, separated the room into which Professor Sacchetti had 
 been shown from the gallery, and the professor could hear the 
 sound of Fabrizio's footsteps on its marble floor as he crossed it. 
 Then came the sound of a door being shut. 
 
 A moment or two afterwards. Professor Sacchetti started up 
 from the chair in which he had sat himself, for, muffled as it was 
 by the distance, another sound had reached his ears, the sound 
 of a loud, sharp cry. 
 
 In an instant he had crossed the anti-camera and stood outside 
 the closed doors of the gallery. He paused for a moment, then, 
 hearing no sound of voices from within, gently opened the doors. 
 No sooner had he done so than he uttered a quick exclamation 
 and went hurriedly forward into the long room. From the open 
 doors an unexpected odour had issued, the unmistakable odour 
 of a recently discharged fire-arm. For an instant the doctor had 
 but one idea, namely, that Fabrizio Vitali had shot himself. His 
 suspicions, as he thought, were confirmed by the sight of Fabrizio 
 lying on the floor at the end of the gallery. Hurrying forward 
 he bent over him, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of a 
 black-robed form half sitting in and half lying across an arm-chair. 
 One arm hung limply downward, and clenched in the white hand 
 was a revolver. An open paper lay on the floor, almost at. 
 Fabrizio's feet. 
 
 " Crista 1 " exclaimed the professor. " It is she who has killed 
 herself. As to the other, he has only fainted — povero giovane ! " 
 Rapidly he examined the dead body in the chair. Death had
 
 TEMPTATION 345 
 
 been instantaneous, and only a drop or two ot blood welled 
 slowly from a blackened mark on Countess Vitali's temple. 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. " Meglio cosi ! " he said 
 to himself. "It is better to die suddenly than to die gradually 
 in the ergastolo." And then he turned his attention to the living 
 who needed him more.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 ■P\ON BASILIO did not return to Villa Falconara by any 
 ^~^ means so early as he had expected. Before going to Palazzo 
 Vitali, he had wished to find out for himself how far the reports 
 which had reached the Duchessa di San Felice as to the evil 
 rumours circulated in Viterbo concerning Count Vitali's unex- 
 pected death might be regarded as anything more than idle 
 gossip. To his amazement and horror, however, he had quickly 
 realised that the entire city was discussing the rumour in question, 
 and not, as he had supposed, merely that section of its population 
 which was ever ready to believe any tale, however improbable. 
 Wherever he had been he had met with mysterious hints and 
 inuendoes as to what had taken place in Palazzo Vitali ; and it 
 was perfectly clear that, at any rate among the borghesia of 
 Viterbo, Count Vitali's wife and cousin were more than suspected 
 of being accomplices in a monstrous crime. After this he had 
 hastened to the hospital where he had hoped to get a few words 
 with his old friend Sacchetti ; but he had been informed that the 
 professor was at Palazzo Vitali, awaiting the arrival from Rome of 
 a member of the family, who, as he knew, could be none other 
 than Fabrizio Vitali. 
 
 Don Basilio had never entertained the least doubt as to how 
 the rumours concerning Ugo Vitali's death had been circulated. 
 He felt convinced that they could only have originated from 
 Palazzo Vitali itself; and that, knowingly or unknowingly, Taddeo 
 was primarily responsible for them. This conviction gave him 
 grounds still to hope that, after all, the whole matter might 
 resolve itself into mere surmise, which of course Sacchetti, when 
 the story reached his ears, would authoritatively dismiss with the 
 contempt it deserved. 
 
 From the hospital, Don Basilio had proceeded directly to 
 Palazzo Vitali, hoping that he might have an opportunity of at any 
 346
 
 TEMPTATION 347 
 
 rate interviewing Taddeo, and of asking him on what possible 
 grounds so terrible a rumour could have been based. On arriving 
 at Palazzo Vitali, however, he found that not only was the portont 
 closed, as was, of course, natural, but that even the little wicket 
 gate was locked against any possible intruder. The porter who, 
 after a considerable delay, cautiously opened the wicket to an 
 extent just enabling him to see who was outside it, informed 
 Don Basilio that it was perfectly true the Professore Sacchetti 
 was in the house, but that he was engaged with the Conte 
 Fabrizio who had arrived from Rome. He, the porter, had the 
 strictest orders not to admit anybody inside the gates, under any 
 consideration. 
 
 Don Basilio saw that it was useless to press the point. He 
 could hardly, indeed, insist on forcing his entry at such a time. 
 Nevertheless, he was determined to see Professor Sacchetti at all 
 costs before returning to Villa Falconara. Until he had some 
 definite information from an official source, he felt that he could 
 not present himself before Vittoria di San Felice. 
 
 Sacchetti must certainly leave Palazzo Vitali in due course, and 
 Don Basilio decided to await his egress. The professor would 
 tell him the truth, of that he was sure ; for not only was he an 
 old friend, but he would guess that he, Don Basilio, was 
 commissioned by the Duchessa di San Felice to obtain informa- 
 tion. And for the duchessa Sacchetti might be relied upon to do 
 anything ; since he regarded her almost in the light of a colleague, 
 owing to the practical support she had given to more than one of 
 his schemes for the welfare of the sick and suffering. 
 
 Don Basilio had to wait considerably longer than he had ex- 
 pected before Professor Sacchetti finally emerged from ihtporfone 
 of Palazzo Vitali, A glance at the doctor's countenance, usually 
 cheerful, but now thoughtful and preoccupied to a remarkable 
 degree, was sufficient to show Don Basilio that something was 
 weighing heavily on his mind. He was accompanied by the 
 avvocato Filippi, who was known to the priest by sight though 
 not personally, and the two were talking earnestly together — 
 so earnestly, indeed, that neither of them noticed Don Basilio who 
 happened to be on the opposite side of the street. Not liking to
 
 348 TEMPTATION 
 
 interrupt their conversation, and being unwilling to ask questions 
 before the avvocato, of whose business relations with Casa Vitali 
 he was fully aware, Don Basilio followed him at a certain distance. 
 It was not till he saw the lawyer take leave of his companion and 
 turn into a side street that he quickened his steps and overtook 
 Professor Sacchetti. 
 
 "This is a sad business, professore," he said, after greeting 
 him. " I have been waiting — oh, but considerably more than an 
 hour — hoping to get a few words with you. As you may imagine, 
 the signora duchessa di San Felice is much distressed; and I 
 have come to Viterbo to learn further particulars." 
 
 The professor looked at him sharply. "You have doubtless 
 spoken with others before meeting me," he said. " If so," he 
 continued with a touch of impatience, " you know what is being 
 said in Viterbo." 
 
 " That is why I come to you," answered Don Basilio simply. 
 " I do not believe what I hear from others." 
 
 " But you know what is said ? " insisted the doctor. 
 
 " Yes, Unluckily, the same person who brought the news of 
 Count Vitali's death to Villa Falconara this morning also brought 
 an incredible story as to how it had occurred. The story was 
 repeated to the duchessa. I arrived at the Villa too late to 
 prevent it reaching her ears. Of course it is all nonsense! 
 but » 
 
 " Come with me, Don Basilio," interrupted the professor. " If 
 we are seen talking together here in the streets, a hundred 
 people will come to try to get something out of me — as you have 
 come, del resto ! but with you it is different. If you will ac- 
 company me to my house, there we can talk quietly. It is a 
 brutto affare," and he shook his head. 
 
 The two succeeded in reaching Professor Sacchetti's abode 
 without being molested by any curious passer-by, and the doctor 
 took Don Basilio into his study. Having established his guest 
 in an arm-chair, Professor Sacchetti lighted a cigar and began to 
 smoke vigorously. Don Basilio waited in silence. He knew 
 that Sacchetti would speak when he chose to speak, but not 
 before.
 
 TEMPTATION 349 
 
 "My friend," the professor observed presently, "I fear that 
 we are confronted by an enormous scandal." 
 
 Don Basilio started. " Do you mean to say," he exclaimed, 
 "thatj^<?«, too, suspect something wrong?" 
 
 Professor Sacchetti shrugged his shoulders. " I know just as 
 much, but no more, as anybody else does at this moment," he 
 replied, " but what I know, I will tell you. Until three days ago 
 Count Vitali was going on well. Three days ago he complained 
 of again feeling internal pains and sickness. Those symptoms, 
 perfectly natural to his case, had previously yielded satisfactorily 
 to my treatment. For some days he had been almost free 
 from any internal discomfort. To my mind the relapse was 
 sufficiently explained by an imprudence in diet which the patient 
 had insisted on committing. I repeated the former treatment 
 and, as I had anticipated, the unfavourable symptoms soon 
 began to disappear. Quite suddenly, however, they developed 
 to an alarming extent. Violent sickness was followed by acute 
 cerebral disturbance, and this last was succeeded by coma, and, 
 early this morning — by death." 
 
 " But were these not natural symptoms — the result of some 
 complication causing acute internal inflammation suddenly to 
 develop itself?" asked Don Basilio. 
 
 " Did I say that they were unnatural symptoms ? " returned 
 Professor Sacchetti, a little irritably. "On the contrary," he 
 added, "they were perfectly natural in a case in which the 
 viscera had sustained actual injury. That is the worst part of 
 the whole business. Now, my friend. Count Vitali had not 
 sustained any such serious injury from his accident. I, Sacchetti, 
 will stake my reputation that he had not ! Dunque ? — " He 
 paused, and looked at the priest significantly. 
 
 "Then you cannot account for the catastrophe," said Don 
 Basilio. "And yet," he added, "the case was in your hands 
 from the beginning." 
 
 "Yes," the professor remarked drily, "from the beginning. 
 I am beginning to suspect that I helped to hasten its end." 
 
 Don Basilio stared at him with amazement. 
 
 " Oh, quite unwittingly, my dear friend — though probably you
 
 350 TEMPTATION 
 
 will say that we doctors usually have that excuse ! But I will 
 explain myself. Count Vitali's symptoms were, as I said, entirely 
 consistent with what might have been expected had he received 
 some severe internal injury. He had, however, received no 
 such thing — of that I am confident. He was suffering from 
 a more or less severe visceral co?nmozione, caused by his horse 
 falling upon him — but there was no organic injury at all likely, 
 with ordinary treatment, to produce inflammation of a serious 
 nature. Part of my treatment, of course only part of it, con- 
 sisted in periodical injections of morfina, which I administered 
 myself. Count Vitali, like many strong men unaccustomed to 
 illness, was a restless patient. Moreover, at first he suffered a \ 
 good deal of pain, whereas perfect stillness and repose both of 
 body and mind are very necessary in similar cases. Bene ! It 
 is a curious thing, Don Basilio, but it is nevertheless a fact that 
 the symptoms to which Count Vitali so quickly succumbed might 
 equally have been produced both by acute inflammation resulting 
 from intestinal injuries, and by a series of over doses of morfina. 
 The cerebral disturbance, which I have mentioned as immediately 
 preceding death, would in particular be a feature common to both 
 causes. Mi spiego ? " 
 
 " You explain yourself perfectly," rephed Don Basilio. " But 
 it is horrible," he added, "incredible! Of course I understand 
 now that you suspect poisoning — poisoning by the very drug you 
 were yourself administering in proper quantities, is it not so ? " 
 
 Professor Sacchetti nodded. " I suspect it — yes," he said, 
 "but as yet it is a suspicion only. I am not infallible, Don 
 Basilio, like you are supposed to believe the Holy Father to be — 
 I say 'supposed,' because naturally, as a sensible man, you believe 
 nothing of the kind. It is always possible that I have throughout 
 failed to discover in Count Vitali's case what I ought to have 
 discovered. But I do not think it." 
 
 " Surely," said Don Basilio, "whether or not you have been 
 mistaken can be easily proved — must be proved ? " 
 
 " Precisely. This morning, when all was over and I could do 
 np more, I suggested to the Contessa Vitali the advisability of an 
 autops'ta. I confessed to her that I had not anticipated any such
 
 TEMPTATION 351 
 
 violent relapse, and still less one that would so quickly prove 
 fatal. The contessa resolutely declined to give her consent to 
 any such proceeding." 
 
 "And her opposition roused your suspicions? God grant that 
 they may still prove to be nothing more than suspicions ! " 
 
 " E cosi sia, Don Basilio ! " exclaimed the professor, earnestly. 
 " My reputation would be badly damaged should Count Vitali's 
 death be found to have been due to his injuries — but, beheve 
 me, I would a thousand times rather it were proved that I had 
 made a mistake than the reverse ! But you ask me if the 
 contessa's opposition roused my suspicions. No — it did not. 
 They were aroused afterwards." 
 
 "By Taddeo — the old maggior-domo ? " asked Don Basilio 
 quickly. 
 
 " No — not in the first instance. It so happened that, on 
 leaving Palazzo Vitali after the event, I had occasion to enter 
 a chemist's shop — a shop to which I seldom go. The news of 
 the count's death was already known ; and the padrone happened 
 to mention to me that a few days ago he had sold to the signora 
 contessa two hypodermic syringes with the accompanying _;?«// of 
 morfina for injection." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Don Basilio. 
 
 " The coincidence struck me as curious," continued Professor 
 Sacchetti, "so curious, indeed, that I visited another farmacia 
 in the city, and apparently the contessa had also purchased two 
 of the same apparatus from that establishment. I cannot find, 
 however, that she has purchased more than these four, at any 
 rate in Viterbo ; and a larger quantity of morfina would be 
 necessary to produce any fatal result, even when combined with 
 that which I was myself giving." 
 
 " It is monstrous, incredible ! " said Don Basilio, " but even 
 yet I hope that there is some mistake. The contessa may have 
 wanted morfina for herself. I am told that ladies occasionally 
 make use of that drug." 
 
 " It is possible," returned Professor Sacchetti drily. " At 
 all events," he added, " I shall know by to-night whether it is. I 
 who liave made a mistake."
 
 352 TEMPTATION 
 
 " You mean to make the autopsia ? " 
 
 " But certainly ! I have had a long interview with Conte 
 Fabrizio Vitali. He arrived from Rome at mid-day." 
 
 Don Basilio looked at him enquiringly, and the professor 
 read his thoughts. 
 
 " No," he said, quickly, " no, amico mio, I am convinced he 
 knows nothing. When I told him what was being said here 
 in Viterbo, he was indignant; and, unless I am very much 
 mistaken, his indignation was genuine. He declared he would 
 support my request for an autopsia. Indeed, he undertook to 
 explain to the contessa that she must give way. No ; whatever 
 relations may exist between those two — and we have all of us 
 heard certain stories, have we not ? — I do not believe that Fabrizio 
 Vitali had the slightest suspicion of what I was obliged to tell 
 him this morning." 
 
 " And now ? " asked Don Basilio, 
 
 " Povero giovane ! " replied the professor. " Now he has 
 the same suspicion that we all have. He is struggling against 
 it, and he is suffering horribly. Imagine what he must be 
 suffering, if things are as some assert them to be between him 
 and his cousin's wife ! He is ill, too ; on the verge of a nervous 
 collapse, unless I am much mistaken. At first I believed his 
 nervousness to be due to some guilty knowledge, but now I am 
 persuaded it results from some other cause, and one not difficult 
 to define. If it should turn out that the contessa is, — what some 
 people declare her to be, — I should say the unhappy young man 
 will very likely lose his mental balance and seek to destroy 
 himself. He might do worse, of course; though I suppose I 
 should not say so to you ! " 
 
 "No," observed Don Basilio, "not to me, nor to any- 
 body." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti smiled. " I am inclined to agree with 
 you," he said. " We doctors cannot, as the English poet 
 Shakespeare says, 'minister to a mind diseased,' but you 
 doctors of the soul very often can. Who knows that I may 
 not have to call you in as a colleague ? " 
 
 Don Basilio did not reply; but from the expression of his
 
 TEMPTATION 353 
 
 face it was evident that he was thinking deeply, perhaps, as the 
 professor more than half suspected, praying deeply also. 
 
 " And what am I to say when I return to Villa Falconara ? " 
 the priest asked presently. "As yet," he continued, "you can 
 tell me nothing definite. It is all suspicion, horrible conjecture." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti took out his watch and looked at it. 
 " Caro Don Basilio," he replied, " as yet I can tell you nothing 
 definite, as you say. But at four o'clock I have to return to 
 Palazzo Vitali, and then we shall see whether the contessa has 
 been persuaded by Fabrizio Vitali to listen to reason. If I were 
 you, I should remain quietly here — in my study. Nobody will 
 disturb you, and you can return to the signora duchessa this 
 evening, by which time I may be able to give you more definite 
 information. I need hardly say that what 1 have already told 
 you is entirely confidential. Though many people have tried 
 to approach me this morning, nobody as yet has the least idea 
 that I am unsatisfied as to the cause of Count Vitali's death. 
 I am not fond of scandals ; and if I can conscientiously see my 
 way to avoiding this one, I shall do so. Of course, if I find that 
 a crime has been committed, it will be my duty to state my 
 opinion to the authorities, and things must take their course. 
 But I am sorry for that young man," he repeated, " I am 
 convinced that, if there has been a crime perpetrated, he is 
 entirely innocent of it. All the same, nobody will ever believe 
 that he is so ; and he will always be regarded as an accomplice." 
 
 " Sicuro ! " exclaimed Don Basilio. " Unluckily for him, he is 
 Count Vitali's heir," 
 
 "And reported to be the lover of Count Vitali's widow," 
 interrupted Professor Sacchetti. 
 
 " I forgot that, for the moment," said Don Basilio. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti smiled grimly. " You may be sure that 
 nobody else will forget it," he observed, " even if the report be 
 absolutely untrue. Now," he added, " I must leave you, Don 
 Basilio — if, as I suggest, you care to wait here for another hour 
 or so. I have to go to the hospital before returning to Palazzo 
 Vitali, and it is already nearly half-past three, so I have not 
 much time to lose."
 
 354 TEMPTATION 
 
 Don Basilio accepted the invitation, since he felt it would be 
 impossible to return to Villa Falconara until he found himself 
 in a position to take back more definite information than he 
 had hitherto been able to gather. Professor Sacchetti snatched 
 up his soft felt hat and hurried away, leaving the priest surrounded 
 by learned treatise and medical works which Don Basilio, in the 
 actual state of his mind, was unequal even to make a pretence of 
 examining. 
 
 His thoughts recurred to what Taddeo had told him a few 
 days previously. He remembered the old servant's account of 
 how he had overheard Countess Vitali reminding Fabrizio that, 
 should Ugo die, he would inherit his cousin's possessions, and 
 Fabrizio's entreaty that she would not make him think of things 
 he did not want to think about ; his almost angry assertion that 
 he wished no ill to befall Ugo. Don Basilio could hardly doubt 
 the existence of the intimacy between the two which had become 
 the common talk of the neighbourhood. Taddeo could not have 
 imagined all he had overheard ; and, moreover, the Duchessa di 
 San Felice was evidently firmly persuaded that Countess Vitali 
 was an unfaithful wife and Fabrizio a treacherous kinsman. 
 But the duchessa was also convinced that murder had been done, 
 and that Fabrizio Vitali and the woman who had become his 
 mistress were accomplices in the doing of it. On the other 
 hand, Sacchetti, while full of grave suspicion of Countess Vitali, 
 had just declared his conviction that, although Fabrizio might be 
 her lover, he was innocent of any knowledge of her crime, if 
 crime there had been. It was perfectly clear that, were Count 
 Vitali's death proved to be due to poisoning by morphia, or to 
 any other unnatural cause, the world at large would never 
 beheve in Fabrizio Vitali's innocence ; nor, probably, would the 
 authorities of the law. 
 
 Apart from the monstrosity of the crime itself, were it proven, 
 and the hideous idea that here, in a civilised city and in a family 
 occupying a high position, such a deed was possible, Don 
 Basilio could not but shudder when he thought of what Fabrizio 
 Vitali's mental state would be if he was indeed guiltless of any 
 knowledge of or participation in it. Indirectly guilty he would
 
 TEMPTATION 355 
 
 surely always feel himself to be, since conscience would tell him 
 that if he had not yielded to temptation and betrayed the honour 
 of the head of his house, the other and graver crime would in all 
 probability never have been committed. 
 
 It was no wonder, Don Basilio said to himself, if, as Sacchetti 
 had declared, the unfortunate young man was now in a state of 
 mind which might lead him to desperation. If, as Sacchetti said 
 was the case, Fabrizio had begun to suspect his mistress of 
 murdering her husband, would not his horror and remorse 
 become unendurable? 
 
 And the Duchessa di San Felice ? What, Don Basilio thought 
 with a heart full of pity, was he to say to her — if Sacchetti were 
 to find his suspicions confirmed? Side by side with the deep 
 grief he had seen in her face at the unexpected death of her old 
 friend, for whom he was convinced she would have felt more than 
 friendship had she allowed herself to do so, he had also seen 
 deep and bitter anger. She would never believe in Fabrizio 
 Vitali's innocence; Don Basilio was sure of this. On the 
 contrary, if he had read aright the look on her face that morning, 
 she would never rest until those she believed to be guilty were 
 paying the full penalty for their crime. 
 
 The period of suspense through which Don Basilio had made 
 up his mind he would have to pass before Professor Sacchetti 
 returned from Palazzo Vitali was shorter than he had anticipated. 
 His painful reflections were suddenly interrupted by the 
 professor's servant who entered the room hurriedly, bringing a 
 note which he said had that moment arrived from his padrone, 
 with directions that it was to be given to Don Basilio at once. 
 
 The priest tore it open, with a presentiment of further evil. 
 Professor Sacchetti had written a couple of lines only, begging 
 Don Basilio to come to him immediately at Palazzo Vitali where 
 he would at once be admitted. The note contained no explana- 
 tion of this unexpected request; but Don Basilio lost not a 
 moment in complying with it. 
 
 A hurried walk of a few minutes brought him to the portone 
 which he had that morning in vain tried to pass. Apparently 
 orders had been given to the porter to admit him instantly ; for
 
 356 TEMPTATION 
 
 he had no sooner knocked than the wicket gate was opened, and 
 the man as promptly closed it behind him. 
 
 To Don Basilio's surprise, the professor was awaiting him at 
 the foot of the staircase leading up to that portion of the piano 
 nobile which Count and Countess Vitali had always occupied 
 since their marriage. A glance at the doctor's face was sufficient 
 to convince the priest that his forebodings of further evil were 
 about to be verified. Professor Sacchetti was evidently under the 
 influence of extreme agitation ; and Don Basilio, who knew the 
 habitual calmness and presence of mind which had gained for 
 him the reputation of being one of the most brilliant operators 
 among his colleagues, felt assured that he must have learned 
 something which had confirmed his worst suspicions. 
 
 " Per carita, Sacchetti," exclaimed Don Basilio, " what has 
 happened ? " 
 
 The professor drew him aside and whispered a few words in 
 his ear. 
 
 The priest started back horrified. " Gran Dio ! " he cried. 
 " It is impossible ! " 
 
 " Zitto ! " the doctor said, in a low voice. " Zitto, Don Basilio, 
 per carita ! As yet nobody knows it, nobody except Taddeo, 
 and he, for the honour of the family, will not speak until — well, 
 until the authorities arrive. Yes, she has killed herself " 
 
 " Disgraziata ! " interrupted the priest, and then he crossed 
 himself. 
 
 " For an instant I thought that he had shot her," continued 
 Professor Sacchetti, as they slowly mounted the staircase 
 together. " We had been talking, he and I, and he left me to 
 go into the gallery where the contessa was awaiting him. He 
 had hardly got into the room when, in the distance, I heard a 
 loud cry — a terrible cry ! I went to the door of the gallery and 
 opened it gently. Then I smelt the smell of gunpowder, and I 
 went in. I found Fabrizio Vitali lying on the floor, and a few 
 feet away from him I saw the contessa. She had fallen across a 
 chair — and she was dead, quite dead. She had shot herself, and 
 the revolver was — is — still in her hand." 
 
 " Madonna santissima ! " ejaculated Don Basilio, " and he ?"
 
 TEMPTATION 357 
 
 " He had found her so, and uttered that cry. Then he 
 fainted. Listen, Don Basilio — he had told her that the autopsia 
 must be held, and so, in her fear of what it would reveal, she 
 destroyed herself." 
 
 " And he — Fabrizio Vitali — knew that she was guilty ! Che 
 orrore ! " 
 
 " Not at all ! " exclaimed Professor Sacchetti quickly. " I was 
 right. He knew nothing. This paper " — and he drew from his 
 pocket as he spoke the piece of paper he had found lying near 
 Fabrizio — " exonerates him from all knowledge of — all complicity 
 in the crime. She planned it, and executed it, and she alone. 
 But who will believe this piece of paper ? People will say she 
 wrote it to shield her lover. They will even say he forced her to 
 write it. In the meantime, he is in the charge of one of my 
 infermieri. Another is keeping guard over her, until the 
 authorities are informed of what has happened and come to 
 verify the suicide. He, Fabrizio Vitali, is in a state of mental 
 collapse. Sometimes he talks nonsense ; but for the most part 
 he is, as it were, stupefied. That is why I have sent for you." 
 
 " For me ! " repeated Don Basilio. 
 
 " For you. You are a priest. What did I say to you a short 
 lime ago ? you priests are doctors for the soul. That unhappy 
 man is innocent, Don Basilio — I repeat to you that he is innocent, 
 at all events of having had any part in his cousin's death ! And 
 he is suffering — suffering the tortures of, well, of what you would 
 call hell, I suppose. I want you to go to him, as a doctor ; for 
 your treatment will be more efficacious than mine. More- 
 over " 
 
 "What?" asked Don BasiHo in a low voice, as Professor 
 Sacchetti paused. 
 
 " I want you to convince yourself of his innocence," the pro- 
 fessor continued, " so that, when the time comes, you will be able 
 to add the weight of your testimony to mine. When I know 
 that you are with him, I will send to advise the authorities of 
 what has taken place. I have delayed doing so for no other 
 reason than to save that young man from being arrested as an 
 accomplice in the crime. We shall be unable to remove sus-
 
 358 TEMPTATION 
 
 picion — he will lie under that for the remainder of his life. But 
 our testimony, yours and mine, coupled with the contessa's state- 
 ment, will cause the authorities to hesitate before they take any 
 proceedings against him." 
 
 " But, Dio mio ! " exclaimed Don Basilio, " do you not see 
 that he is hopelessly compromised ? His position as poor Count 
 Ugo's heir is fatal to his ever being able to establish his innocence 
 in the eyes of the world." 
 
 " In the eyes of the world — yes," answered the professor. 
 " But, if he is supported by our testimony, there will always be a 
 minority who will at least give him the benefit of the doubt ! I 
 imagine, however, that in a short time it will not matter to him 
 what the world thinks. Unless I am much mistaken, he has 
 not the temperament to stand up against the shock he has 
 received. He will give way to remorse, and remorse will create 
 despair. We all know to what such a condition of things frequently 
 leads." 
 
 " Ah, but it must not — it shall not ! " exclaimed Don Basilio. 
 
 The professor looked at him. " I think," he said quietly, 
 ' whether it does so or not will depend more upon your treat- 
 ment of the case than mine, my dear friend ! " 
 
 Don Basilio was silent for a moment. " But I have not his 
 confidence," he said presently. 
 
 " Gain it," returned Professor Sacchetti laconically. " That 
 is what I have called you in to do," he added with one of his 
 quick smiles. " If he broods over his remorse, he will probably 
 go mad — especially when he realises, which as yet he probably 
 does not do, that he must always be a suspected man. Make 
 him talk, confess his sins — anything you like — and you will probably 
 save him from himself, and from despair. Is that not a priest's 
 work more than a doctor's work ? I will undertake the rest." 
 
 "I will do my best," said Don Basilio solemnly; "with God's 
 help, I will do my best. You are right, Sacchetti, it is a duty ; 
 but if he is innocent, as you assert and that wretched woman 
 has declared, then it would be a crime to abandon him." 
 
 Professor Sacchetti nodded. "Siamo d'accordo," he said. " It 
 is satisfactory when colleagues agree ! I will take you to him.
 
 TEMPTATION 359 
 
 The infermiere can remain in the adjoining room while you are 
 with him. Only, make him talk ! You will notice that, every 
 now and then, he looks terrified, and puts his hands to his head 
 as though to shut out some distressing sound. He has spoken 
 about a laugh. Del resto, it is a strange moment to think about 
 laughter, but that is all the effect of nerves, of course, and it is 
 precisely these symptoms which make me uneasy. I can sooth 
 the body, but it must be your task to quiet the mind. Let us go, 
 then; for I have much to do. I should have communicated 
 with the authorities before now, and there is the autopsia. That 
 is more necessary now than ever, though this paper has already 
 set all doubt at rest as to the true cause of poor Count Ugo's 
 
 death. Ah, poveretto ! I cannot think of it " 
 
 And Professor Sacchetti passed his hand quickly across his 
 eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 T T was late that evening before Don Basilio returned to Villa 
 -*■ Falconara. He had been able, however, to despatch a 
 messenger to the Duchessa di San Felice with a note in which he 
 explained to her that his presence was required at Palazzo Vitali. 
 It would be useless, he knew, to attempt to conceal from her the 
 tragedy which had taken place. By this time its principal details 
 would have been telegraphed throughout the length and breadth 
 of Italy, and the newspaper editors would be rejoicing. He had 
 judged it better, therefore, to tell her frankly that the popular 
 rumour as to the cause of Count Vitali's death was only too true ; 
 and that Countess Vitali, the sole author of the crime, had taken 
 her own life so soon as she had become aware that detection was 
 inevitable. 
 
 As a matter of fact, neither Don BasiHo nor Professor 
 Sacchetti believed that Countess Vitali had put an end to her 
 earthly existence for this cause only. The priest, indeed, was 
 convinced that she had killed herself, not from fear of what the 
 results of the autopsy might be, but in an hour of despair at the 
 discovery that her lover now regarded her with horror and 
 aversion. Don Basilio argued to himself that Countess Vitali 
 must from the first have contemplated the possibility of an 
 autopsia being insisted upon by Professor Sacchetti ; and that she 
 had purposely chosen morphia to effect her design knowing that 
 Sacchetti had himself administered it to her husband. 
 
 A couple of hours spent alone with Fabrizio Vitali had 
 sufficed to convince Don Basilio that, had Countess Vitali not 
 recognised the fact of her power over her lover being gone for 
 ever — had she not realised that his love had turned to bitter 
 loathing, she would have faced all risks of discovery. She would, 
 he felt assured, have attempted to remove suspicion from herself 
 by insisting on the point that Sacchetti, on the reappearance of 
 360
 
 TEMPTATION 361 
 
 disturbing symptoms, had himself reverted to the injections of 
 morphia. 
 
 What passed between him and Fabrizio Vitali during that 
 first interview, Don Basilio would never, of course, divulge. Even 
 Professor Sacchetti had not ventured to question him on the 
 subject. It was sufficient for the professor that Don Basilio 
 left Fabrizio's room convinced of his innocence of any fore- 
 knowledge of or complicity in Countess Vitali's action, and that 
 he solemnly assured the authorities that any attempt to implicate 
 Fabrizio in the crime would be a monstrous injustice. 
 
 The paper which Cristina Vitali had brought with her to the 
 gallery, and which must have fallen from her hand at the moment 
 of discharging the revolver, contained a concise but full account 
 of how she had carried out her crime. It even explained how 
 she had urged Fabrizio to leave Palazzo Vitali after her husband's 
 accident because she felt she would be more free to perform a 
 deed which she had intended to keep for ever secret from him, 
 but which circumstances had after all compelled her to confess 
 to him. 
 
 None but Don Basilio knew exactly what these circumstances 
 were ; for even Professor Sacchetti, when he had returned to 
 Palazzo Vitali to learn the result of Fabrizio's interview with 
 his cousin's widow, had no suspicion that Fabrizio knew Countess 
 Vitali to be guilty, though he did suspect that a doubt had 
 already entered his mind and was torturing him almost beyond 
 endurance. None but Don Basilio himself would ever know all 
 that had passed between him and the sick man who, as the 
 professor had speedily realised, needed a spiritual rather than a 
 bodily physician to cure his malady. 
 
 Nor had Don Basilio been able to progress very far with his 
 treatment. He had found Fabrizio Vitali in no condition to 
 enable him to do so, and, moreover, he was as yet uncertain as 
 to how he should best deal with his case. He knew that it 
 would be useless, and probably worse than useless, to attempt 
 at once to bring the consolations of religion to one who he was 
 aware had prided himself upon emancipation from all belief 
 in the supernatural. The priest felt that he must gain Fabrizio
 
 362 TEMPTATION 
 
 Vitali's confidence before he could hope to bring even a ray of 
 hope or comfort to that tortured mind. That was not a thing 
 to be accomplished in a moment ; and its accomplishment would 
 certainly not be assisted by any resort to religious platitudes. 
 The root of the disease, Don Basilio felt convinced, was too 
 deeply seated to be reached by superficial remedies admirably 
 adapted, no doubt, to one who already believed in their worth, 
 but supremely irritating to a sufferer like Fabrizio Vitali, who had 
 for long been engaged in carefully training his mind to close 
 itself against their influences. 
 
 During the couple of hours that Don Basilio had remained 
 with Fabrizio he had, perhaps unconsciously, stood aside and 
 apart from his priesthood. Had Professor Sacchetti been present, 
 he would have at once realised that the spiritual physician he 
 had sent to his patient was occupying himself in making his 
 diagnosis in much the same manner as, indeed he himself had 
 already made it. The priest had asked no questions. He had 
 contented himself with quiet observation and the exercise of 
 strong mental effort to establish a current of sympathy between 
 Fabrizio and himself. He had carefully abstained from any at- 
 tempts to administer religious purgatives ; from pointing out that 
 the position in which Fabrizio found himself was the obvious 
 result of sin, and the chastisement of an offended deity. 
 
 By degrees something in Don Basilio's calm, sympathetic 
 manner, something, too, in the quiet, steady gaze of his soft, 
 brown eyes had established in Fabrizio Vitali the first beginnings 
 of that confidence which the priest was striving to create. He 
 had said little, for as yet his mind was dazed and crushed under 
 the weight of the horror that had fallen on him. Broken allu- 
 sions to that horror, occasional expressions which betrayed the 
 existence of acute mental sufTering were all that fell from Fabrizio's 
 lips ; and even these were uttered in a manner which caused 
 Don Basilio to doubt whether he was conscious of speaking 
 them. Sometimes, however, a sudden access of fear seemed to 
 overpower him, a fear which appeared to Don Basilio to be almost 
 as much physical as mental. 
 
 " If it would only leave me ! " he had muttered during one of
 
 TEMPTATION 363 
 
 these moments. "If I could only forget it and never hear it 
 again." 
 
 And then Don Basilio had bent towards him, and had said to 
 him gently, " What do you hear? what is it that troubles you ? " 
 
 It was the only question the priest asked ; and the answer had 
 startled him. 
 
 "Their laugh," Fabrizio had replied. "Hers, and Donna 
 Giulia's. When I hear it, I feel that I must go mad." 
 
 Don Basilio looked at him steadily. " That is nonsense," he 
 said quietly. " By degrees, you will not hear it any more." 
 For the first time the thought that this was not the only tragedy 
 of the kind which had occurred in Palazzo Vitali struck Don 
 Basilio. What connection, he wondered, could there be in 
 Fabrizio Vitali's mind between the crime of nearly three 
 centuries ago and its counterpart of to-day ? There must be 
 something over which Fabrizio was brooding — some reason for 
 his associating in his mind the woman who had been long dead 
 and the woman who had taken her own life. It might be mere 
 coincidence — a perfectly natural association of ideas — or it might 
 be something more than this. Don Basilio's interest was keenly 
 aroused — more keenly, perhaps, than would have been the case 
 had Fabrizio VitaH been evidently only a prey to remorse for his 
 indirect responsibility for his cousin's death and horror at his fate 
 and that of the woman who had murdered him. Fabrizio's words, 
 Don Basilio felt, pointed at something more than this, and he 
 suspected that they were by no means the incoherent and 
 reasonless utterances of a man under the influence of a severe 
 mental and moral shock. 
 
 Experience had taught Don Basilio that many influences were 
 at work in the world, and perhaps among them the influences of 
 people and deeds long passed hence and forgotten. As he 
 listened to Fabrizio Vitali's words and heard his reply to the 
 question he had asked him, something told him that he now 
 possessed a clue which would lead him to discover the original 
 causes of the young man's mental suffering. He told himself 
 that it would take time to follow this clue, and that he could 
 only hope to do so by gradually winning Fabrizio's entire trust
 
 364 TEMPTATION 
 
 and confidence. Even now, though so little had passed between 
 them, Fabrizio appeared calmed and soothed by the priest's 
 presence. He had left promising to return to him the following 
 day, and in a few simple words had succeeded in conveying to 
 Fabrizio that he could both understand and sympathise with him 
 in his trouble. The very assurance of this, unaccompanied as it 
 had been by any attempt to offer so-called spiritual consolation, 
 had produced its effect on Fabrizio ; and this, Don Basilio 
 knew, was already a step gained towards the goal he had in 
 view. 
 
 On leaving Palazzo Vitali that evening, Don Basilio felt that 
 he had yet before him the most difficult task of his troubled day. 
 It was dark long before he reached Villa Falconara, and he was 
 weary both bodily and mentally from the strain of the last few 
 hours. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice, always thoughtful for others, would 
 have persuaded him to return to his own house and rest ; assuring 
 him that, since she now knew the worst, he could come to 
 her the following morning in order to give her further details. To 
 this, however, Don Basilio refused to consent, and he and the 
 duchessa dined alone together. Vittoria herself made a very 
 apparent pretence at eating, but she insisted on Don Basilio 
 making a more genuine effort which, having had but little food 
 that day, he recognised the necessity for doing. The m.eal was 
 a short one, and both were relieved when it was over and the 
 servants were no longer in attendance listening to every word 
 that was said. 
 
 Concerning the actual tragedy of Ugo Vitali's death and that 
 other tragedy which had so swiftly followed it, there was, indeed, 
 nothing more to be said. Vittoria, as Don Basilio quickly per- 
 ceived, could not trust herself to speak about it in any direct 
 way ; and he, also, was glad to shun the subject as much as it 
 was possible to do so. 
 
 One thing he had noticed with sorrow as soon as he had seen 
 her again. The look which had been on her face that morning 
 when she had first received the tidings from Viterbo was still 
 there — harder, if anything, and more accentuated than ever.
 
 TEMPTATION 365 
 
 Well had Sacchetti foreseen what Fabrizio Vitali would have to 
 encounter when he had declared that, however much Fabrizio 
 might be innocent of any part in or foreknowledge of his cousin's 
 murder, only a very small minority would believe in his innocence. 
 The Duchessa di San Felice, it was evident, was not disposed 
 to be of the minority. She displayed bitter indignation when she 
 learned that Fabrizio had not as yet been charged with complicity 
 in Countess Vitali's deed. No words Don Basilio could say were 
 successful in shaking her conviction that the crime had been long 
 premeditated and prearranged between Cristina and her lover. 
 In vain Don Basilio assured her that both he and Sacchetti had 
 good reasons for being convinced of Fabrizio Vitali's entire 
 ignorance of Countess Vitali's terrible resolve. The fact that, in 
 her written confession of her crime Countess Vitali had expressly 
 declared that she and she alone had conceived and carried it into 
 execution, and that she had never intended to allow Fabrizio to 
 know of or suspect its commission, was dismissed contemptuously 
 by Vittoria di San Felice as a palpable attempt to throw dust in 
 the eyes of the authorities. 
 
 Don Basilio found himself compelled to abandon for the 
 moment any hope of inducing the duchessa to alter her opinion. 
 The feeling that she would be among the ranks of those who 
 would for ever regard Fabrizio Vitali as guilty of having connived 
 at his cousin's murder, even though the law might not be able 
 to touch him, troubled Don Basilio not a little. The Duchessa di 
 San Felice's influence was great, and he knew that she could use 
 it, if she so chose, in many quarters. Moreover, it might be 
 that, after all, she was right, and that some secret understanding 
 had existed between Countess Vitali and her lover as to the 
 means whereby Count Vitali should be removed from their path. 
 The duchessa had been right when she had insisted on believing 
 the popular rumour that Ugo Vitali had been murdered, and 
 might she not be equally so in refusing to allow that Fabrizio 
 could have been in ignorance that such a crime was in 
 contemplation ? 
 
 Notwithstanding his conviction of Fabrizio Vitali's innocence, 
 Don Basilio felt that, until he should have won his full confidence,
 
 366 TEMPTATION 
 
 it would be wiser not to attempt to overcome the duchessa's pre- 
 judices by argument. He was conscious, moreover, of having 
 no reasonable argument to advance, since his personal opinion, 
 even though this opinion was shared by Professor Sacchetti, 
 could scarcely be called an argument. Time alone could show 
 what attitude Fabrizio Vitali would eventually take ; if, indeed, 
 remorse, and horror at the crime he had indirectly brought 
 about, did not produce that state of desperation which Sacchetti 
 dreaded for him. 
 
 The following day, as he had promised he would do, Don 
 Basilio returned to Palazzo Vitali. 
 
 Taddeo met him at the entrance. 
 
 " The signor professore is with him," he said in response to 
 the priest's inquiry after Fabrizio. " The signor conte is — " 
 he paused, and tapped his forehead significantly. 
 
 Don Basilio grew suddenly pale. " Yesterday evening 
 when I left the signor conte," he said, "he was certainly 
 more composed. Has anything occurred further to upset 
 him?" 
 
 Taddeo shrugged his shoulders. " Is not what has already 
 occurred sufficient ? " he asked drily. " Sicuro — the signor conte 
 is mad. He declares that he hears nothing but laughter, peals 
 of laughter. He escaped from his room last night, while the 
 infermiere was asleep. Before that, he had been quite quiet, for 
 hours. He was found in the gallery, unconscious — and — 
 and " 
 
 "And what ? " exclaimed Don Basilio quickly. 
 
 "Reverendo," said the old man in a whisper, "lying on the 
 floor of the gallery we found Donna Giulia's portrait. He must 
 have torn it down from the wall and destroyed it. The canvas of 
 the picture is torn to shreds." 
 
 Don Basilio was silent for a moment or two. 
 
 "Is he still unconscious ?" he asked. 
 
 "Ah, no, but he raves. Sometimes he Is quiet; and then, 
 quite suddenly, he thinks he hears the laughter. It is a 
 judgment — the judgment of God. Ah, reverendo — I did what I 
 could ! When I knew how it was between the Conte Fabrizio
 
 TEMPTATION 367 
 
 and — and that woman, I warned him that it would end ill. It 
 was impossible that such a fnaV augurio as the fall of the Christ 
 on to his bed, the very night of his coming to Palazzo Vitali, 
 should have been sent for nothing. But he would not be warned. 
 That evil woman had already bewitched him." 
 
 " The crucifix fell a second time, I think you told me," said 
 Don Basilio thoughtfully. 
 
 Taddeo glanced at him quickly. " Sicuro," he replied hesitat- 
 ingly. " But the second time, reverendo," he added, after a slight 
 pause, " it was I who placed it on the Conte Fabrizio's pillows, 
 where it had fallen before." 
 
 " Yo2i 1 " exclaimed Don Basilio. 
 
 "Yes. It was the night I followed them into the gardens, and 
 saw and heard all I told you, reverendo. I thought that if I 
 could frighten him, he would go away, or at least that he would 
 accept the warning. I went to Donna Giulia's room — his room — 
 and tore the Christ from the wall, so that he might find the cross 
 again on his pillows. But it was of no use. The first time I 
 knew that the Conte Fabrizio had been alarmed by the evil omen — 
 but this second time he only laughed. After that, I wrote the 
 anonymous letter to the poor signor conte — anima benedetta — 
 and Taddeo crossed himself. "Did I do very wrong?" he asked. 
 " I could think of no other way, and the poor signor conte saw 
 nothing, suspected nothing ! " 
 
 Don Basilio did not answer him. Indeed, he scarcely seemed 
 to hear what the old servant was telling him, so absorbed was he 
 in his own thoughts. 
 
 As they were proceeding in the direction of the room which 
 Fabrizio Vitali was occupying. Professor Sacchetti met them. His 
 face lightened up when he saw the priest. 
 
 " I have more need of your services than ever," he said. 
 " He " — and he made a quick motion with his head — " is to all 
 intents and purposes mad — but it is a madness which will pass — 
 which musf pass. Only, there are things about the case which I 
 do not understand. Taddeo will have told you what happened 
 in the night. That he should have gone to the gallery, is perhaps 
 natural. It was there he found the contessa — dead. But why
 
 368 TEMPTATION 
 
 should he have destroyed the picture ? and what is the meaning 
 of this laughter which he believes he hears ? These things I do 
 not understand." 
 
 "I think that I understand them," said Don Basilio, in 
 a low voice. " I think so," he repeated, " but I am not yet 
 sure." 
 
 The professor looked at him curiously. He knew something 
 of the theories Don Basilio held, for they had more than once 
 had some discussions together on the subject. 
 
 " If you do, amico mio," he said briefly, " so much the 
 better. You may be able to save his reason, for if this state of 
 things were to continue, he might easily become permanently 
 insane." 
 
 " I shall try to save his reason," answered Don Basilio, " and 
 his soul." He spoke very quietly, almost as though speaking to 
 himself. 
 
 The professor frowned a little. 
 
 " As to his soul," he said, drily, " that, from my point 
 of view, is an altogether secondary affair. It seems to me 
 that Domeniddio may very well be trusted to look after his 
 soul." 
 
 " If I could get him to believe that," observed Don Basiho, " I 
 should probably succeed in saving his reason. I think you said 
 yesterday that despair was what you dreaded for him, did 
 you not ? " 
 
 " Bravo ! Bravo ! " exclaimed Professor Sacchetti. " I forgot to 
 whom I was talking. Perbacco, Don Basilio, if all priests were 
 as sensible as you, we doctors should not delay handing over our 
 patients to them until we realised that we could do no more our- 
 selves 1 But how do you account for the peculiarities of the 
 case — the things you say you think you understand? " 
 
 Don Basilio glanced at Taddeo. " You need not remain," he 
 said to him. " I wish to have some conversation with the signer 
 professore." 
 
 " I should like to know how you account for them," repeated 
 the professor, when Taddeo had left the room. 
 
 Don Basilio shrugged his shoulders. "Very simply," he
 
 TEMPTATION 369 
 
 replied. *' At least," he added, *' very simply from my pomt of 
 view. That unfortunate young man is still struggling with an 
 evil influence. Unless you rid him of this influence, your 
 treatment, my dear friend, will be of little use. Precisely what, or 
 whose this influence is, one has yet to learn — but one may 
 guess." 
 
 " That woman's — the contessa's, presumably — from your point 
 of view," said Professor Sacchetti. 
 
 Don Basilio hesitated. " Directly, perhaps — yes," he observed. 
 " But by whom, or by what, was that unhappy woman influenced ? 
 Was she acting spontaneously, so to speak — or by suggestion ? 
 I am not at liberty to tell you what I learned, or believe I learned, 
 from your patient yesterday. All I dare tell you is, that I am not 
 surprised at what occurred last night. I find it perfectly in 
 accordance with my diagnosis of the case that Count Fabrizio 
 should have gone to the gallery, and that he should have destroyed 
 the portrait of Donna Giulia Vitali. Have you forgotten her 
 history, professore ? " 
 
 Professor Sacchetti started. " Diavolo ! " he exclaimed. " I 
 had forgotten it — yes, until this moment. It is an extraordinary 
 coincidence," he added. 
 
 Don Basilio glanced at him. " God does not deal in 
 coincidences," he observed. " Nature, the whole history of 
 creation, teaches us that. Perhaps," he continued, with one of 
 his slight, ironical smiles, " that other Power whose representative 
 you named just now, may do so, and therefore may be more 
 easily defeated in the end." 
 
 The professor looked at him gravely, and for a moment or two 
 he was silent. 
 
 " I think," he said, at length, " it would be as well if you would 
 go to him. If your theory be correct, the sooner you commence 
 your cure, the better, my friend. Perhaps I ought to laugh at 
 you ; but I do not." 
 
 " I am glad he destroyed that picture," said Don Basilio 
 suddenly. 
 
 Professor Sacchetti gave a slight gesture of impatience. 
 " Ma ! " he exclaimed. " I cannot see that it matters. It 
 
 2A
 
 370 TEMPTATION 
 
 is a sign of madness — temporary, we will hope — but still 
 madness." 
 
 Don Basilio shook his head. 
 
 " Niente affatto, caro professore ! " he replied. " It is a sign 
 that he is fighting. He only needs an ally. Now, if you please, 
 will you take me to Count Fabrizio's room ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 SUMMER had come again, and nearly eight months had 
 elapsed since the tragedy which had startled all Italy had 
 taken place in the ancient city of Viterbo. Uaffare Vitali, as for 
 many weeks it had been generally called, had become almost a 
 matter of history in a country in which domestic tragedies are 
 neither few nor far between. 
 
 Largely owing to the exertions of Professor Sacchetti, whose 
 reputation stood above all suspicion to any connivance to defeat 
 the ends of justice, the authorities had quickly come to the 
 conclusion that there were no possible grounds for taking any 
 proceedings against Count Fabrizio Vitali for complicity in his 
 cousin's murder. 
 
 Nevertheless, as both the professor and Don Basilio had fore- 
 seen, the world at large declined to believe in Fabrizio Vitali's 
 innocence; and those were in the majority who declared that 
 Italian justice had once again afforded a proof of its corruption 
 and impotency. 
 
 The sun was setting over the lovely valley of the Arno. The 
 soft breeze of a June evening stole down from the Tuscan hills, 
 bringing with it the scent of roses, of white Madonna lilies, and 
 all the flowers that blossom in the Garden of Italy and breathe 
 forth their sweet incense to Santa Maria dei Fiori. 
 
 Outside the gateway of an old villa remotely situated on the 
 heights of Settignano, a carriage was waiting, and the coachman 
 had drawn up his horses in the shade of a group of cypress trees, 
 from the sombre branches of which cascades of roses in full 
 bloom were hanging in luxurious profusion. 
 
 In the distance the great bell of the Duomo at Florence was 
 booming furiously, for it was the vigil of a festa. 
 
 The villa, which lay buried in the gardens surrounding it, was 
 invisible from the narrow, secluded lane into which its gates 
 
 371
 
 872 TEMPTATION 
 
 opened. Formerly the country residence of a well-known 
 Florentine family, it had been for some years occupied by a 
 small community of Oratorians and was used by that community 
 more as a house of retreat than as a monastery in the usual sense 
 of the term. 
 
 The coachman had waited more than half an hour in the dusty 
 lane beneath the high wall surrounding the grounds of the villa, 
 and he was beginning to get drowsy when the custode appeared 
 at the great iron gates and proceeded to unbolt them. A lady, 
 accompanied by two men, one of whom was a priest, came 
 slowly down the ilex avenue, and the coachman backed his 
 horses so as to bring the carriage opposite the gates. 
 
 The lady was Vittoria di San Felice, and with her was Don 
 Basilio ; while their companion who, though dressed entirely in 
 black, was a layman, was Fabrizio Vitali. As they drew nearer 
 to the entrance they stopped for a few moments, talking earnestly. 
 Then Fabrizio Vitali took leave of Vittoria and Don Basilio, and 
 turning away disappeared in the shadow of the ilex trees. 
 
 Vittoria di San Felice looked at the priest. There was a smile 
 on her face, but her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " I am glad I came, Don Basilio," she said in a low voice, as 
 the porter let them through the cancello. " It — it has comforted 
 him to see me. You were right to make me come to Florence." 
 
 " It was right to come to him," Don Basilio said gently, " but 
 for you, duchessa, it has been a trial. Nobody knows that better 
 than he does, except myself." 
 
 " Let us walk a little," said Vittoria. ** Tell the man to drive 
 on, and wait for us in the main road, and we will walk down the 
 hill. Yes — I have been hard, and misjudged him. I know now 
 how greatly I have misjudged him — but you, you believed 
 throughout in his innocence — and you have saved him, body 
 and soul." 
 
 " Not I," replied Don Basilio quietly. 
 
 " God — through you ! He said that peace was coming back 
 to him — peace, after all he has been through ! He told me that 
 during those terrible weeks you fought for him — fought until 
 sometimes even your physical strength nearly failed you. And
 
 TEMPTATION 373 
 
 yet you never said a word to me — you allowed me to continue to 
 misjudge him, to speak of him as a vile assassin, until " 
 
 " Until God won the victory, and the evil departed from him," 
 interrupted Don Basilio, as she paused. 
 
 Vittoria shuddered. " If I had known that she — that terrible 
 woman — had made him believe that of Ugo and me," she said 
 '* I should have understood better," 
 
 " How could I tell you ? " asked Don Basilio. " Besides, he 
 made me promise that I would never tell you. He looked for- 
 ward to the day when he might ask you to come to him in order 
 that he might tell you himself." 
 
 " Was she a devil ?" whispered Vittoria. 
 
 " No — because, in her own way, she loved him, and she killed 
 herself when she knew that she had lost his love. God will 
 remember if there was but one unselfish thought in her love, 
 however perverted that love was. No — she was not a devil, but 
 she was possessed by an evil spirit that had entered into an 
 abode, finding it swept and garnished. More I cannot tell you, 
 figlia mia, for my lips are sealed." 
 
 "Will he become a monk?" asked Vittoria di San Felice, 
 presently. 
 
 Don Basilio shook his head. " Never," he said. "He will go 
 back into the world some day, under the name he has assumed 
 now. He will work, in the world and for the world ; and so he 
 will keep that peace which is daily coming to him. Of course 
 he will never return to Palazzo Vitali. People will continue to 
 think, as they think now, that Count Vitali has fled the country 
 because he is a man branded as an assassin. Perhaps you do 
 not know — he did not tell you — that he has already made 
 arrangements to divide his inheritance among various institutions. 
 He has full power to do so, since he has no heirs. It will not 
 be publicly known for another year. He has kept nothing, 
 duchessa, except that he has made a provision for his mother 
 with whom he will eventually live. In a year Palazzo Vitali and 
 the lands will be sold." 
 
 " Vittoria di San Felice turned and looked at him. " If that 
 is so," she said quietly, " I shall buy them. Ugo would have
 
 374 TEMPTATION 
 
 wished it. My sons will keep the lands always — for they loved 
 him. The Vitali property shall not pass into the hands of 
 strangers while I am alive." 
 
 They descended the hill together, and below, in the high road 
 leading to Florence, they could see the carriage awaiting them 
 which would take them back to the city. On the morrow Vittoria 
 di San Felice was to leave Italy for the north of Europe where 
 she intended to pass the summer. They lingered awhile on their 
 way, watching the sunset glow deepening over the hills, and 
 turning the distant Arno into a river of flame. 
 
 " I am glad I went to him," repeated Vittoria, speaking her 
 thoughts aloud. "Perhaps I have brought him more peace. 
 Ah, but it was a terrible thing — a diabolical thing — of that un- 
 happy woman to lead him to believe — " she checked herself 
 suddenly. " After all," she continued, " it is not for me to judge 
 her. She was possessed of an evil spirit, you say — and, if that 
 was so, she was not responsible. Besides, have I not misjudged 
 enough ? I have only one wish now — that she may find the 
 peace which Fabrizio Vitali is finding. And for us " 
 
 " £/ ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo" 
 interposed Don Basilio, taking off his broad, black hat, as he 
 said the words. 
 
 " Amen," said Vittoria di San Felice softly.
 
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