L I B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLI NOIS 
 
 8Z3 
 
 ^544 m 
 i860 
 
 V.I
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mademoisellemori01robe
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI 
 
 A TALE OF MODERN ROME. 
 
 ' D'abord je suis femme, avec les devoirs, les affections, les 
 sentiments d'une femme ; et puis je suis artiste' 
 
 Madame Viabdot Gaecia. 
 
 : Come, make a circle round me, and mark my tale with care, 
 A tale of what Rome once hath borne, of what Eome yet may 
 bear.' 
 
 Macatjxay. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUME! 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 JOHN W. PARKER AND SON, WEST STRAND. 
 
 i860. 
 
 [The Author reserves the right of Translation."]
 
 LONDON : 
 
 SAVILL AND EDWAEDS, PEINTEES, CHANDOS STREET, 
 
 COVENT GARDEN.
 
 g!3 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 " The words of an accomplished singer, ' D'abord 
 je suis femme, avec les devoirs, les affections, les 
 sentiments d'nne femme ; et puis je suis artiste,'' 
 may be taken as the text on which the following 
 tale has been composed. Irene Mori is an ideal 
 who arose before the mind of the writer among 
 fair scenes and on classic ground, at a time when 
 recent events in the history of Eome had a vivid 
 interest for the spectator. 
 
 The beauty and interest of Ancient Eome have 
 been long the theme of travellers, poets, and 
 historians, and it is an interest that can never be 
 forgotten ; but now a new one is springing up 
 
 - there. Besides the dead Past, there is a living 
 Present, and the aim of the following pages is to 
 give some description of the thoughts and feelings 
 that stir Modern Eome ; and some picture of 
 that every-day life in the Eternal City, which would 
 
 - not be more wonderful, more beautiful, or more in- 
 teresting than every-day life elsewhere, if it were 
 not that it has been of late years marked by some
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 touch of heroism, and that it may ere long be so 
 distinguished again. 
 
 It is matter of history, that when once a race 
 has fallen below a certain point it can rise no 
 more. "Whether the Italian people have sunk to 
 this point is a question that, in the course of a 
 few years, must have its answer. A new spirit 
 has gradually risen among them ; they have dared 
 and suffered, and they are ready to dare and suffer 
 again, if so they may purchase liberty. They are 
 not like the Spaniards, willing to acquiesce in in- 
 significance, and content to have no place among 
 the nations. They are gasping and struggling 
 for life. 
 
 "We, in our island home, are, as a people, 
 brought little in contact with other nations. "We 
 have a strong, busy, national life, which fills our 
 heads and hearts, and gives full scope to our ac- 
 tivities. Our sympathies are apt to be narrowed 
 to the measure of our own concerns, and it has 
 been truly said of the Englishman that ' foreign 
 affairs, in his normal state, he views with indiffer- 
 ence.' Xow and then this indifference is thawed, 
 and our sympathies are roused by the course of 
 events to take a wider range. The Italian revo- 
 lution of 1848-9 awakened an interest amongst 
 us that has not died away, and drew our earnest 
 attention to Italian politics. The best historical 
 account of those revolutions, Farini's Stato Romano, 
 has been translated into our language, by the
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 accomplished pen of an English statesman ; and 
 time has enabled us to appreciate the truthfulness 
 of a work which we were at first inclined to call 
 in question. At the present epoch, the scenes in 
 which the following tale is laid may give it a 
 peculiar interest. It was written among those 
 who had taken an active share in them. Some of 
 the incidents described in it will be recognised as 
 real occurrences, such as the murder of the two 
 supposed spies by the populace ; the attendance 
 of the Eoman ladies at the hospitals during the 
 siege ; the existence of the child regiment called 
 la Speranza, the flight and pursuit of the traitor, 
 and his rescue by the eloquence of a priest. But 
 the writer is far from presenting this slight work 
 of fiction as a picture of all that Eome did and 
 suffered in 1849. It is but a sketch of the way 
 in which private lives are affected by convulsions 
 in the whole body politic, and private hopes made 
 shipwreck in the tempests that shake the State. 
 
 If the fortunes of the dramatis personce of this 
 story should awaken some feelings of pity for those 
 who have been much oppressed, some admiration 
 for those who have fallen in a good cause, and 
 some sympathy for the future fortunes of the 
 Eoman people, the writer's end will have been 
 accomplished. 
 
 May, 1859.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Thou art in Rome ! the city that so long 
 Reigned absolute, the mistress of the world. 
 
 Rogees. 
 
 ONE Sunday evening in October, the English 
 congregation were pouring out of the room 
 which served them as a church, outside the Porta 
 del Popolo. The English season at Eome had 
 just begun. A long file of carriages was waiting, 
 and they successively came up to the door, and 
 drove off, either to various residences, or to 
 the Pincian Hill. The walkers turned into the 
 gardens of Yilla Borghese, the gates of which 
 stood invitingly open close at hand ; or crossed the 
 Piazza, and fell into the crowd in the three streets 
 branching from it. Some ascended the Pincian 
 Hill, which the Italians, ever dreading the un- 
 healthy hour of sunset, were already leaving ; so 
 that there was a double stream of vehicles and 
 foot-passengers, one descending and the other 
 ascending, the winding way. Ample as the road 
 was, it hardly contained the crowds tempted out 
 by the fine afternoon to this charming place, once 
 the Collis Hortulorum, and still a region of 
 gardens, as much as in the days of Sallust and 
 Lucretius. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 If the piazzas and streets below had not been 
 equally crowded, all Rome might have been supposed 
 on the Pincio. Languages from all parts of the 
 world were heard there ; foreigners and natives 
 were blended together. Here, a magnificent Ar- 
 menian prelate walked, with stately air and flowing 
 beard, beside a white-robed Dominican. There, 
 a group of Americans, of English, of Germans, 
 passed by. Here, again, a Frenchman exchanged 
 no very friendly glances with a slender, dark 
 Italian. Now, all the crowd pressed hastily 
 together into the angles of the road, as a carriage, 
 containing two Italian ladies reclining luxuriously 
 in it, dashed along. Nurses, distinguished by their 
 crowns of bright ribbon and long silver pins ; 
 priests in their various habits, were conspicuous 
 and abundant ; but in the whole throng there was 
 hardly a Roman from the country; all on the 
 Pincio were inhabitants of the city, and no par- 
 ticular fes ta had called the dwellers in the Cam- 
 pagna into Rome. It was only such a crowd and 
 such a scene as may be witnessed on the Pincian 
 Hill on any fine Sunday in autumn. 
 
 Amongst those of the English congregation 
 who made it their way home from church were a 
 young brother and sister, followed by a spaniel, 
 which had been waiting for them at the door. As 
 they mingled with the crowd, their appearance 
 was so foreign, and their Italian so pure, that no 
 one would have supposed them to be English, 
 though the boy's tall, slender figure and bright 
 complexion were unlike those of a Roman. They 
 paused for a few moments in an angle of the wall, 
 looking down into the gardens below, whence the 
 warm, perfumed breath of the China roses came
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 3 
 
 up in gusts, aud where lizards and butterflies 
 coquetted together. A carriage passed, and a 
 lady in it remarked them, and asked her companion 
 who they were, saying, ' If I had not seen them 
 in our church, I should have taken them for 
 Italians.' 
 
 ' So they are, in fact. I do not know much 
 about them, but I believe the father was a young 
 English artist, who married a ^Neapolitan girl. I 
 suppose he met with her in some expedition into 
 il Regno, as they call ^Naples. I remember seeing 
 a portrait of her once when we went to his studio, 
 and a beautiful creature she must have been — ■ 
 with one of those pure Greek faces which you see 
 at Sora or Capri. She died, and left him this girl 
 and boy ; and some one said the other day that he 
 was dead too.' 
 
 ' How do they live ?' 
 
 1 I do not know ; on the boy's earnings, pro- 
 bably. Oh, you do not know how little people 
 can live on here, or you would not look incre- 
 dulous. Yet I sometimes think that poverty is 
 worse here than in England ; there are so many 
 families who once were better off, and are going 
 steadily down hill. And it is so hopeless. What 
 can one do ?' 
 
 ' Ah, the priests dislike the English helping or 
 visiting their people ?' 
 
 1 Oh, some do, and some do not. Some are 
 glad to let their people get part of the alms at the 
 English church ; others would not hear of it.' 
 
 ' Do you see anything of the poor here ?' 
 
 ' I did, when I first came here, with my English 
 notions ; but it is so disheartening, the cases are 
 so endless and so hopeless. And it is a most un- 
 
 b 2
 
 4 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 fortunate thing to get the name of being charitable, 
 one has no peace — and then one gets so shockingly 
 imposed upon. I do assure you, Mrs. Dalzell, 
 you would not believe me, if I told you the frauds 
 that people, as well off as you or I, will practise to get 
 a few pauls. I am quite in earnest ; the spirit of 
 independence, or honesty either, is entirely wanting 
 here. And then I know that the people take what 
 one gives, and hate one all the time as something 
 worse than a pagan. They call converts from our 
 Church to theirs Nuovi Crist iani, New Christians. 
 Religion is, of course, a forbidden subject, and 
 I have lost all heart, and feel sure I am being 
 taken in when an Italian talks me into being 
 charitable. I have learnt to resist their pathetic 
 entreaties at last. Ah, you look dissatisfied ; but 
 if ever you live here, you will find philanthropy 
 to be all very well in theory but mightily dis- 
 agreeable in practice at Rome.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell made no reply, and bent forward 
 to look at the road, some turns of which now lay 
 below them. She distinguished the brother and 
 sister again, slowly ascending in the throng, and 
 asked if they had been brought up as Protestants. 
 
 • I suppose so. Yes, they must be Protestants, 
 for Italian Romanists are strictly prohibited from 
 setting foot within our church. The boy is a 
 handsome fellow, is he not ? I should like to 
 know if they have any friends here. Well, we 
 must drive down, or you will miss the table d'hote. 
 I wonder why Italian women will wear white 
 bonnets ! Did you see that one ? Frightful, is 
 it not ? Have you decided on going into lodg- 
 ings ?' 
 
 ' My old friend, Madame Marriotti, recommends 
 me to do so.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 5 
 
 Meanwhile, the boy and girl had readied the 
 door of the French Academy, and instead of fol- 
 lowing the stream of promenaders to the gardens 
 above, they went in, and asked the porter for the 
 key of the Bosco, which was given, and they 
 entered a grove of ilexes, whose gloomy shade 
 effectually shut out the radiant sunshine that still 
 illuminated the western sky. 
 
 1 Now the bread, Vincenzo,' said the girl, in 
 Italian ; ' see, see, there he is,' and she held out 
 her hands caressingly to a white goat, which was 
 browsing amid the rank herbage, and feigning to 
 take no notice of them. ' Come ! vien, vien qua ! 
 Oh, see the creature !' as the spaniel, which had 
 been racing in another part of the wood, came 
 into sight, and the goat, startled out of coquet- 
 tish indifference, gave an extraordinary caper, and 
 rushed upon him. Yincenzo and his sister were 
 too much overcome with laughter to interfere in 
 the duel, which ended with the dog's taking refuge 
 between his owners, while the goat pirouetted 
 indignantly at a little distance. 
 
 1 Come, if we are to see the sunset we must 
 make haste, Irene,' said Yincenzo ; ' Xanna will 
 certainly think we are lost, and eat the ricotta all 
 herself. "What are we going to have for supper ? 
 Come, tell me !' 
 
 1 You greedy boy ! Don't suppose I shall tell 
 you. Nanna would never forgive me if I spoiled 
 her treat in that way.' 
 
 ' How she must rack her good old head every 
 festa to get the something to make us a surprise,' 
 said Yincenzo, as they advanced towards a long 
 and exceedingly steep flight of steps, leading up 
 a high mound clothed with ilexes. ' I believe
 
 6 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 it is what she thinks of from one holiday to 
 another.' 
 
 ' And I think of what yon are doing in the 
 studio. Ah, Yincenzino, when you are a great 
 sculptor !' 
 
 ' Ah, when !' repeated her brother. ' Do you 
 remember the sculptor who sold nothing for four- 
 teen years ? Fourteen years of working and wait- 
 ing, and hoping and despairing, Irene !' 
 
 ' And we can work, and wait, and hope too, but 
 not despair,' said Irene, eagerly. ' Fortune came at 
 last to him, and so it will to us — and auy way, you 
 must be a sculptor.' 
 
 ' Ay,' said Yincenzo, looking out on the mag- 
 nificent view which now lay before them as they 
 attained the miniature temple on the top of the 
 mound and above the wood, ' it is not for the 
 fame or the fortune ; it is for itself, Irene !' 
 
 Both stood still, side by side, gazing silently on 
 the city, where dome and bell-tower stood out 
 against a sky of gold ; the desolate Monte Mario 
 and its stone pines rising dark to the right. 
 Behind, close at hand, were sombre ilex woods, 
 amid which rose here and there the spire of a 
 cypress or a ruined arch, and on the highest poiut, 
 the white Yilla Ludovisi ; beyond, stretched the 
 Campagna, girdled by hills melting into light 
 under the evening sky. 
 
 ' It is something to be a Eoman,' said Yincenzo, 
 at last. 
 
 ' And a Eoman sculptor,' added his sister. 
 
 ' You must come to the studio some day, Irene ; 
 I want to show you my copy of the Flora. I can 
 tell you, it was a great honour to be chosen to 
 make it. Alberti had no time, or else I don't
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 7 
 
 suppose Signor Trajano would have chosen nie. 
 Ah ! the light is going.' 
 
 1 Ave Maria when you hear, look you that your 
 house be near,' said Irene, quoting a familiar 
 Koman proverb ; ' but before we go, can you get 
 me that bit of smilace ? See,' she added, pointing 
 to a graceful plant wreathed round a neighbouring 
 ilex. ' There, see that bough ; it will look beau- 
 tiful round Santa Lucia, and you could copy it for 
 a frame.' 
 
 ' I see ; stand out of the way,' said Yincenzo, 
 advancing to the side of the flight of steps which 
 was undefended by railing or balustrade. He 
 leant lightly forward, stretching his lithe figure 
 as far as he could, and reaching after the plant, 
 while Irene ran down the steps so rapidly, that 
 she came headlong into the arms of a stranger, as 
 he turned a corner of the mound, and was about 
 to ascend. Her exclamation made Yincenzo 
 start upright to see what had occurred. He set 
 his foot on a pebble which chanced to be on the 
 step, slipped, lost his balance, strove in vain to 
 recover himself, and fell down the whole flight of 
 steps with frightful violence. He lay as if dead 
 for some minutes, and when Irene wildly implored 
 him to speak — to look at her — and the stranger, 
 who had innocently caused the disaster, raised 
 him, he only answered by faint moans of pain. 
 Presently he recognised his sister, uttered her 
 name, and tried to rise with the help of the 
 stranger ; but the suffering caused by the move- 
 ment showed that serious injury had occurred. 
 The stranger asked, first in French and then in 
 tolerable Italian, where he felt hurt. 
 
 1 My back,' he answered in a faint whisper ;
 
 8 MADEMOISELLE MOKI. 
 
 then, perceiving Irene's terror, ' Don't be fright- 
 ened, only I cannot walk home yet.' 
 
 Nor could he endure to be carried when they 
 tried to lift him. 
 
 ' You are Italian ! "Where do you live ? Let 
 me get a carriage for you ; I fear you must wait 
 here awhile, but I will make all possible speed. 
 My name is De Crillon, Colonel de Crillon,' said the 
 stranger, laying the poor boy's head tenderly upon 
 Irene's lap. 
 
 She thanked him by a look. He hastened 
 away, and she sat waiting while the weary time 
 passed on. The gloom of the ilexes deepened ; the 
 sun had set, and the rapid Italian night was 
 come. The bell of the neighbouring convent rang 
 for the Ave Maria, but still no one came to the 
 help of the two poor children. Vincenzo was too 
 much exhausted by pain to continue the comfort- 
 ing words which he had at first tried to speak ; 
 his breath came feeble and fluttering ; Irene was 
 dumb with fear and grief, and sat with tears 
 rolling down her cheeks, and one arm passed 
 closely round the neck of her dog, as if even his 
 presence was a comfort, and the other hand on 
 Vincenzo' s damp forehead. A rustle gave her 
 hope, but no one came ; it was but the white goat 
 come to peer inquisitively at them. It seemed as 
 if hours had passed ; all was still again — surely all 
 the world had forgotten them ; yet it was not so 
 very long in reality before voices and steps came 
 near, and Colonel de Crillon hurried up. 
 
 ' My poor friend ! Have you been in much 
 pain ? Every carriage was engaged ; I could not 
 find one. Here is something, at last, and these 
 good men will carry you very carefully. Here,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 9 
 
 my men, lift him gently, gently — that's it,' as by 
 his gesture rather than by his foreign Italian they 
 comprehended, and laid the boy in a sheet which 
 they had brought with them. But no tenderness 
 could save Vincenzo from anguish which wrung 
 irrepressible moans from him even while he gasped 
 out, ' It's nothing ; don't mind, Irene,' and the 
 transit over the rough pavements was a trial that 
 ended in actual fainting. 
 
 Colonel de Crillon accompanied them to their 
 dwelling, and bade Irene hasten upstairs to 
 warn her friends and prepare a bed to receive 
 Yincenzo at once. There was no one to warn 
 except the old servant who had nursed them, and 
 who, as Irene ran up to the rooms they occupied 
 on a third floor, came to the top of the stair- 
 case, with indignant voice uplifted to a shrill 
 shriek — 
 
 ' Oh ! terrible children ! Do you wish to kill 
 me with sorrow ? Is this an hour ? Child ! 
 what has happened ?' suddenly perceiving Irene's 
 frightened aspect. 
 
 ' Oh ! Yincenzo has fallen down the steps of 
 the Bosco,' answered Irene, amid choking tears ; 
 ' they are carrying him upstairs now.' 
 
 Quite overpowered, she hid her face and gave 
 way to her sobs, while old Nanna hastened down 
 scolding and lamenting. The sight of Yincenzo, 
 carried up senseless, called forth a new outburst, 
 as she stood on the stairs, with vehement gestures 
 and tones, preventing any one from passing, and 
 quite unconscious of being in the way. The men 
 who carried him did not know what had caused 
 the accident. Colonel de Crillon could not muster
 
 10 MADEMOISELLE MOLL 
 
 Italian enough to explain, nor could he compre- 
 hend the local Italian spoken by Joanna. 
 
 1 My good woman,' he exclaimed, at last, ' you 
 really must let us pass by. "Where is the boy's 
 father or mother ?' 
 
 ' Father or mother, did the Signor say ? They 
 have none but me ; orphaus are they, the blessed 
 children !' 
 
 Without further ceremony he pushed by her, 
 and ran up stairs till he reached an open door, 
 where sounds of sobbing directed him to Irene. 
 He was getting thoroughly annoyed, and spoke 
 sharply — 
 
 ' Signorina, are you aware that we are losing a 
 great deal of time ? Be so kind as to speak to 
 your servant, and request her not to stand wailing 
 over your brother as if she were a weeping willow, 
 but to fetch a doctor.' 
 
 Irene stood up, looking so scared and wretched 
 that his heart smote him as if he had been cruel 
 to a child. 
 
 ' Pardon, if I speak like a savage, but indeed it 
 is most important to waste no more time. Our 
 first thought must be how to relieve him.' 
 
 ' Yes/ she answered, collecting herself with 
 effort, and still shaken by repressed sobs. ' I am 
 sorry. Papa used to be angry when I cried. 
 What ought I to do ?' 
 
 ' Ah ! she has let him pass,' muttered Colonel de 
 Crillon. l jSTow we must have him put to bed 
 directly, and then — here, lay him down softly. 
 I'll fetch a doctor myself. The old hag ! can't 
 she keep herself quiet ?' 
 
 ' He opens his eyes ! — he knows us !' exclaimed 
 Irene, springing towards him, but stopped by
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 11 
 
 Colonel de Crillon. ' I will not talk ; I will do just 
 what you tell me. Yincenzo — oh, dear Vincenzo ! 
 Kanna, let me see his face. This good gentleman 
 says he will go for a doctor.' 
 
 M. de Crillon, however, thought that the boy 
 would never be safely laid in bed without his su- 
 perintendence, though Irene now showed more self- 
 control and helpfulness than he had imagined she 
 could possess. He gave the men something and 
 got rid of them, and returned to help in undress- 
 ing Yincenzo, growing meanwhile more exasperated 
 every moment by Xanna's incessant chattering. 
 Yincenzo had revived to entire consciousness, and 
 when M. de Crillon had laid him tenderly in bed, 
 the boy clasped his haud and feebly murmured 
 thanks, and Irene's liquid eyes were even more 
 eloquent. 'It is nothing; let me seek a doc- 
 tor,' said he, with a smile ; and jNanna, looking 
 from the window, saw him the next minute 
 hurrying down the street with what she, from 
 their rapidity, called, inappropriately enough, 
 passi Inglesi. 
 
 He returned with the French doctor whose name 
 he had the most often heard since he had been in 
 Rome, consequently the one most fashionable and 
 busy. An Italian household of the middle class 
 was new to the foreign physician, and when, after 
 his examination of Yincenzo, Colonel de Crillon 
 privately asked him if he supposed they were 
 badly off, he knew as little of the matter as the in- 
 quirer. They looked round, and judged that there 
 was no poverty here, deceived by the picturesque 
 air of everything ; the frilled sheets, the damask 
 couch, the sdver cups for holy water hung over 
 the bed, the paintings in carved frames, and the
 
 12 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 gay painted ceiling. A native would have per- 
 ceived directly that the rooms bore traces of past 
 competency and present poverty ; but the two 
 foreigners understood none of these indications, 
 and did not even think that the bare brick floors 
 looked uncomfortable. M. de Crillon was not rich, 
 but he paid the doctor's fee, told him to let him 
 know if the children wanted anything, and gave 
 him his address at Naples, whither he was obliged 
 to go the next day. 
 
 ' Is it possible they have no one to look after 
 them but that old witch ?' said he, looking to a 
 little outer room, where the wrinkled face of old 
 Nanna, her head covered by nothing but rough 
 and scanty grey hair, was bending over a pot set 
 on a morsel of glowing charcoal, which she was 
 exciting by means of a large ventolaio, or feather 
 fan, while she murmured to herself something 
 about having foreseen misfortune since she had 
 dreamed of water the night before. 
 
 ' No one else ? Impossible ! Such nice-looking 
 children!* 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 1 What do you really think of the boy ?' 
 
 ' I shall be better able to tell to-morrow. My 
 impression is that the spine is injured, and that it 
 is a surgical case.' 
 
 M. de Crillon returned to the bedside to bid 
 Yincenzo farewell. The boy was lying with closed 
 eyes and brow knit with pain ; the face, so blooming 
 and full of life a few hours before, now wan as if 
 with long illness. He opened his eyes as M. de 
 Crillon took his hand and looked compassionately 
 at him, seemed to recal what had happened, and 
 thanked him, looking round for Irene as if to bid
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 13 
 
 her join him. She came to his side, and looked 
 earnestly at the stranger, almost as if asking for 
 pardon. 
 
 ' Farewell, my dear boy ; Dr. will let me 
 
 know how you go on,' said he, with more cheer- 
 fulness than he felt. ' Signorina, I have alarmed 
 you twice to-day ; what will your recollections of 
 me be ?' 
 
 Irene coloured with a pretty look of conscious- 
 ness, held out her hand, and whispered — 
 
 ' Addio, signor V 
 
 The physician made his appearance again next 
 day, and found Yincenzo in less pain, and in a 
 feverish state of excitement about his work at the 
 studio, though unable to sit up. "When assured 
 that absolute rest was imperative, he answered by 
 an impatient gesture, and beckoning Irene to 
 approach, whispered — 
 
 * Make Xanna get the truth from him ; I must 
 know.' 
 
 Accordingly, when the doctor had written his 
 prescription and was retiring, the old woman fol- 
 lowed him, and asked mysteriously what he 
 thought was amiss with Yincenzo. He seemed 
 slightly reluctant to answer, but at last said — 
 
 ' I may as well tell you the truth ; I can do 
 very little for him, and he had better be under a 
 surgeon. I shall not come again unless you send 
 for me. His back is injured.' 
 
 ' Santa Vergine ! and when will he be able to 
 work again ?' 
 
 1 1 cannot say. If these children are poor, why 
 not let him go to Santo Spirito ?' 
 
 'The hospital! Better die! The hospital! 
 Let him die of hunger here rather than there !
 
 14 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 The signor knows nothing of these things. I am 
 Bomana ; I had a relation once in Santo Spirito, 
 and I know what it is. I will starve, I will beg 
 sooner than the boy shall go to the hospital !' 
 
 The fashionable physician had little knowledge 
 of Roman charities, and was inclined to believe 
 the popular prejudice against Santo Spirito to be 
 unfounded. He was provoked, and said, drily — 
 
 • Do as you please ; but I warn you, the boy is 
 very likely to be a cripple for life.' 
 
 Thereupon Nanna burst into a perfect howl of 
 grief, mingled with uproarious exclamations and 
 adjurations, which entirely drowned the doctor's 
 emphatic remonstrance. Every word reached 
 Irene and Vincenzo in the inner room, including 
 her last — 
 
 ' Then may Madonna take us to Paradise, for 
 we shall starve before the week's end !' 
 
 ' You hear, Irene ?' said Vincenzo. 
 
 1 It is not true,' was her instinctive reply. 
 
 He made no answer, but drew the bed-clothes 
 over his face, lying thus for a long while, to the 
 extreme terror of Irene, whose own truly southern 
 nature always sought relief in unrestrained and 
 visible emotion. At last he put out his hand, and 
 drew her wet cheek close to his. 
 
 ' Don't cry so, my own dearest — I can't bear 
 that. Irene, darling, do you remember our 
 father's last words ?' 
 
 ' G-od hath never failed them that seek Him,' 
 answered Irene, in English. 
 
 The words came again and again to her mind 
 as she sat by her brother, while Nanna was gone 
 to the druggist's with the prescription. She 
 thought over her past life, for the most part too
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 15 
 
 happy to be easily recalled, but one event stood 
 out prominently — her mother's death. That one 
 long past sorrow was dearer than all the peaceful 
 pleasant days before and after. Then came recol- 
 lections of her father's teaching ; walks with him 
 on feste, when he would describe his own child- 
 hood in that England of which his children had so 
 little idea — then she recalled his pride in his 
 handsome and talented boy — then a dark vision of 
 the sudden fever that had snatched him away, 
 leaving them little but his memory as a legacy. 
 The brother and sister were then eighteen and six- 
 teen. A few months had passed since they had been 
 left orphans, and all they had to depend on was 
 Yincenzo's earnings, which, for his age, were very 
 considerable. Friends they had none, except his 
 master, the sculptor Trajano, who had treated him 
 with great kindness and liberality. Vincenzo had 
 acquaintances and companions of his own age and 
 position, but no one to whom he could look in 
 time of trouble. They had been but a short 
 time in their present abode ; and the children of a 
 Protestant were necessarily singularly isolated in 
 Rome. Their creed must have been a very unde- 
 fined one, for Nanna and their mother were devout 
 Roman Catholics, but their father had always 
 taken them with him to the English . Church, 
 where, unlike too many of the English artists in 
 Rome, he never failed to attend once at least on 
 a Sunday. It was dear to them for his sake, and 
 all old Nanna's horror of the Protestants could 
 not induce them to discontinue the habit of going 
 there. They felt as if they found their father 
 again there more than in the gorgeous worship of 
 the Church of the mother who had been dead so
 
 16 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 long that their affection for her was vague and 
 dreamy, while the memory of the dear father just 
 lost was fresh as the flowers they strewed on his 
 grave in the lonely burial ground where he was 
 laid. The English Protestant might not lie by his 
 Roman Catholic wife. Had both lived, the dif- 
 ferent religions must have caused disunion or 
 confusion : it was well that their children had only 
 peace and love to remember. 
 
 The girl's meditations were interrupted. 
 
 ' Irene ! how are we to live ?' asked Vincenzo, 
 abruptly. ' You know no more than I do. Well, 
 Nanna must go to tell Signor Trajano not to expect 
 me at present.' 
 
 ' Yes,' she answered, in a tone of forced cheer- 
 fulness, like her brother's. 
 
 He lay still again for a while, and she began 
 considering if there were anything she could do 
 to gain money. She did not know much ; had 
 she been of a far higher rank she would have 
 known little more. A little arithmetic, reading, 
 writing — let us not forget embroidery and the 
 manufacture of paper flowers — such was the sum 
 of her accomplishments. She had, too, the versa- 
 tile and ready wit of her countrywomen, and all 
 an Italian's talent for music, but it had never been 
 cultivated ; it would bring in no money ! Em- 
 broidery ? Yes, she might sell it ; but she knew 
 already several girls who tried to make a few pauls 
 by it, and how sadly few they were. Still, the 
 idea of being able to earn anything at all was 
 cheering, and she awaited Nanna's return with 
 impatience, that she might send her to a work- 
 shop. The possibility of going out alone herself 
 never even crossed her mind ; independent of the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 17 
 
 difficulty of leaving Yincenzo by himself, she had 
 never ventured into the street, unaccompanied, in 
 her life ; the mere idea would have shocked her. 
 But when Nanna returned, stiff and weary, she 
 could not ask the old woman to go out again. She 
 must wait. 
 
 The next day brought Signor Trajano to see 
 Tincenzo, hopeful that his pupil would soon come 
 back ; but it was too evident that this was out of 
 the question. He assured him, however, that, 
 come when he might, he should be welcome, and 
 offered for the present to continue his wages. 
 To this Yincenzo could not agree ; it was not 
 just ; he might never recover. 
 
 ' At all events, I may pay you for what you 
 have done to the Flora,' said Trajano, laying down 
 several scudi, as he went away, to the delight of 
 old Xanna, who bustled out to buy provisions ; but 
 Irene saw Yincenzo' s hands clasped hard over his 
 face, while he murmured, ' My Flora ! the last 
 statue I shall ever touch !' 
 
 Time passed very slowly over the sick boy, whose 
 mind was ever at work, torturing him by visions 
 of a dread future, or planning what his hand could 
 no more execute. His spirits nagged more and 
 more as daily his strength lessened, and he was 
 aware of the straits to which the little household 
 was reduced. He had supported it ; he who was 
 now forced to lie helpless, while starvation advanced 
 slowly, relentlessly upon them. When he saw 
 Irene and Xanna whispering together, he knew, 
 with fevered anxiety, that the last paul was gone, 
 and they were consulting how to find another. 
 The attempt to procure embroidery had failed. 
 There remained the great pawnbroking establish- 
 
 TOL. I. C
 
 18 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ment of the Monte cli Pieta. "What could they 
 pledge there ? 
 
 1 The acquasantiere" suggested the old woman, 
 looking towards the cups for holy water, which 
 hung from a wreath of silver lilies above the bed 
 of Yincenzo. 
 
 1 Or the conca delVacqua" Irene added, more 
 ready to part with the large brazen vessel used to 
 fetch water in, than with the pretty cups ; ' I don't 
 know how we could spare it though, and we should 
 get so little for it. The best thing we have is 
 mamma's vezzo? She opened a drawer, and took 
 from it the row of gold beads and the boat-shaped 
 earrings which had been all the fortune of her 
 Neapolitan mother. 
 
 1 Figlia rata ! thy dowry !' 
 
 ' We need not think about that, Nanna !' 
 
 'Lucia was a mother before your age, child. 
 Sell the corona /' exclaimed the old woman, passing 
 the necklace through her wrinkled brown lingers. 
 ' It was as dew on parched ground to see her when 
 she wore her own dress, her Sora dress ; the white 
 panno on her head, and these pendenti in her ears, 
 and her beads round her neck. You will never 
 be as handsome as she was, child— never, never ; 
 you have nothing of your mother, but her voice.' 
 
 ' And that is of no use, since we cannot sell it,' 
 said Irene. 
 
 Brought back to the present by this remark, 
 Nanna recollected that they owed money to the 
 butcher, the baker, and the pizzicarolo or green- 
 grocer, and the rent- day was approaching ; but as 
 for parting with the vezzo, she would not hear of 
 it. She sought her own coral ornaments, and the 
 silver dagger, known as the spadino, worn in the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 19 
 
 hair, all inherited by her as eldest daughter in her 
 family, and which, as she had never married, and 
 had no child to whom to give them, remained in her 
 own possession. Dire indeed must have been the 
 pressure of necessity which induced her to give 
 up the treasured vezzo ! She wrapped it in a 
 pocket handkerchief, and departed for the Monte. 
 Vincenzo watched the proceedings in sileDce, 
 presently desiring Irene to give him his tools, and 
 a half-finished frame, which he had been carving 
 into the elegant festoons and berries of the sarsa- 
 parilla, the plant that had been the partial cause 
 of his accident. The attempt to carve showed 
 him how much he was hurt, and the pain it caused 
 him was betrayed by his knit brow and compressed 
 lips ; but he defied it for a time, and toiled on, 
 though in his recumbent position he got on very 
 slowly. Irene sat by his bed, knitting ; the sounds 
 of singing came faintly up to them from a fountain 
 below, where women were washing clothes, and 
 half unconsciously Irene began, in a low, but 
 exquisitely sweet voice, a verse of a Neapolitan 
 fisherman's song. 
 
 ' Tou sing as well as Madame St. Simon,' said 
 Yincenzo, naming the prima donna at one of the 
 theatres. 
 
 1 Ah ! how I should like to hear her again ! 
 Now, I will tell you what I should like better 
 than anything, Yincenzino ; to be a prima donna 
 myself, and then we should be rich. "When we 
 used to see them act at the Yalle, I could hardly 
 help standing up and calling to the actors — " No, 
 this is the way!" For I am certain that often 
 even Madame St. Simon only thought of the 
 audience, and forgot that she was Lucia or Amina. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 If I were only one of the chorus, I would make 
 myself a part, and not stand like a great dry 
 reed.' 
 
 ' Yes, a reed without even a withered leaf on it, 
 only fit to light a fire !' 
 
 ' And,' continued Irene, glad to see him smile, 
 ' when I was prima donna assoluta I would have a 
 beautiful name. Every prima donna must have a 
 fine name. I would be the Signorina ' 
 
 ' No ; Mademoiselle ' 
 
 ' I am Italian ! It is only the foreigners who 
 are mademoiselles.' 
 
 ' You may depend upon it they would make you 
 into a foreigner. It is so much grander to have 
 singers from abroad.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Irene, reluctantly. ' I think it a 
 ridiculous thing, however. "What should I be ? 
 I suppose I might keep our own name ?' 
 
 ' Yes. Mademoiselle Moore — More — Mori.' 
 
 ' But that is really Italian, Vincenzo.' 
 
 ' Never mind ; it could not sound better. 
 Mademoiselle Mori — that is it.' 
 
 Old Nanna had gone as fast as age and rheu- 
 matism would let her to the Monte di Pieta, that 
 resource of those who are in immediate need of 
 money. Anything may be pledged there, from 
 a valuable picture to a pair of shoes ; part of the 
 value is given to the owner, and a ticket, by means 
 of which it may afterwards be redeemed; but a small 
 rate of interest must be paid for it monthly, and it 
 must be recovered at the end of a certain time, 
 or it will be sold in one of the auctions that take 
 place from time to time. 
 
 Nanna mingled with the stream of people that 
 flowed under the great archway leading into the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORT. 21 
 
 quadrangle, on each side of which are the vast 
 magazines where all the goods are arranged — a 
 stream consisting of old and young, men, maidens, 
 and matrons, chiefly of alow rank, and all brought 
 thither reluctantly by the same need of money. 
 Nearly all the faces, of whatever age or sex, were 
 worn and anxious, except some few who came not 
 on their own account, but commissioned by others 
 too busy or of too high a rank to choose to appear 
 in person. There was a list of articles to be 
 sold in a few days hung up beside the doorway, 
 and amongst them were some far too valuable to 
 have been pledged by the poor — a ruby necklace, 
 a silver cup, a lace veil. Doubtless there was a 
 history attached to each, a sad one enough, 
 usually. Fresh faces continually passed in and 
 out, showing how greatly this institution was 
 taken advantage of by the needy ; for far from 
 this being the only place in Eome where they 
 could go, the Monte had succursali, branches, in 
 each rione or district of Eome. A small number 
 of those who entered, parted from the crowd and 
 took a different direction, with looks so elated, 
 and steps so quick, that it was easy to see that they 
 were of the happy few whom some good fortune 
 enabled to recover their possessions. Presently a 
 burst of passionate grief was heard, and a woman 
 came back, sobbing aloud. A murmur of com- 
 passion went through the crowd — ' Poverina ! her 
 things have been sold ! Ah, shame ! ah, the 
 Pagans !' — all sympathizing in a calamity which 
 might befall any one of themselves, if they failed 
 to pay the interest on what they had borrowed. 
 1 What did they give you ? how much have you 
 got back ?'
 
 22 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 1 A nothing ! a folly ! a scandal !' she answered, 
 tossing out her hand, in which were a few pauls 
 — part of what her household gods had fetched. 
 
 1 Ah,' responded the others, with indescribable, 
 though suppressed scorn and anger ; ' see the beau- 
 tiful charity !' 
 
 She went out, passing by a party of English, 
 who were asking the Swiss porter if they might 
 visit the establishment, without perhaps very 
 well knowing what they were to see. The Italians 
 immediately detected the foreign dress and accent, 
 and not very complimentary remarks passed be- 
 tween them, as they came and went, on the English 
 heretics who had come to spy out their poverty. 
 "Unheeding or unhearing remarks made in the 
 local dialect, almost incomprehensible to any but 
 a native, and differing even in different parts of 
 Rome, the foreigners disappeared into the room, 
 where the porter told them that the pictures were 
 kept, probably imagining that they should see a 
 Eorghese or Spada gallery instead of such originals 
 and copies as had been pawned. 
 
 Time is apparently an article valued by none 
 but foreigners in Home, and so much was con- 
 sumed before it came to Kanna's turn to be 
 attended to, that she found the shortening No- 
 vember day had nearly closed when she left the 
 Monte. A sirocco was blowing, the streets were 
 wet as if with rain, and nearly empty, and of 
 the few passengers, some had umbrellas up, others 
 held them furled, as if there were a diversity of 
 opinion as to whether it rained or not, but every 
 Italian had his cloak flung across his mouth, and 
 hurried on his way, anxious to escape from the 
 chilling atmosphere. The air was heavy; dark-
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 23 
 
 ness had come on before its time ; there was a 
 gloomy, disconsolate look everywhere. Old Nanna 
 muttered in disgust as the damp, cold wind made 
 her shiver, and quickened her pace, but coming 
 to the Church of Sant' Agostino, she stopped, 
 pushed aside the heavy mat which hung at the 
 doorway, and entered, signing herself rapidly with 
 holy water, and devoutly kneeling down among 
 the congregation — a remarkably numerous one, 
 considering that the hour was late, and there was 
 no service going on. The scene was one peculiarly 
 Roman. Darkness prevailed in the building, 
 though before each altar in the side aisles burned 
 a small lamp suspended from the roof, and two 
 more shone out with a clear, steady brilliancy, 
 like that of stars, at the further end ; but all 
 around was gloom, and the bottom of the church 
 seemed a cavern into which the eye was unable to 
 pierce or follow the figures that now and then 
 passed into it. But at the lower end was a marble 
 statue of the Virgin holding the Infant Saviour, 
 and above, and around it, were a wreath of lamps 
 whose light illumined it and flashed on the silver 
 hearts, crucifixes, and other countless offerings 
 which incrusted the pillars and the walls — tokens of 
 gratitude from those who believed that their prayers 
 at this shrine had been granted. From some 
 curious effect of light, the form of the Infant 
 Christ could hardly be distinguished, and the 
 illumination brought out the figure of the Virgin 
 alone, and into strong, startling relief. Two 
 tapers, in massive bronze candlesticks, rose at 
 least fourteen feet from the ground, at some dis- 
 tance from the altar. A large congregation of 
 men and women knelt around in profound silence ;
 
 24 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 sometimes a new worshipper came in, or another 
 softly rose, went up to the statue, and kissed or 
 held a child to kiss its feet, before leaving the 
 church. Nanna was one of the last to go ; had 
 her prayer been audible, it would have been found 
 to end thus : — ' Listen to me, Madonna mia ; you 
 will not let us starve, for you are our Mother, 
 full of grace, and goodness, and mercy. "What 
 mother will let her children starve ? Queen of 
 Heaven and Earth, listen to me. Queen of 
 Angels, now you know everything — I have told 
 you all. I am going away, and you must really 
 and truly make the boy well. Addio, dear 
 Madonna.' 
 
 Putting her rosary into her pocket, she went up 
 the low steps leading to the altar, kissed earnestly 
 the Virgin's feet, and dipping a bit of cottonwool 
 into the oil of a small lamp burning close at hand, 
 left the church, happy in the belief that Yincenzo 
 would soon be well, since she had vowed to offer 
 her earrings to the Virgin of Sant' Agostino 
 should he again go to his work, and had moreover 
 obtained a charm, which must avail if used with 
 faith. Nanna was not the only one who carried 
 home that evening a similar bit of cotton or tow 
 dipped in the holy oil, nor would persons of a 
 much higher rank and education have doubted, for 
 a moment, that its application to an ailing part 
 would have miraculous results. Probably this 
 custom dates from the middle ages, when on 
 certain days the clergy and people went in pro- 
 cession to particular churches, and mass having 
 been sung, an acolyte dipped a piece of tow in 
 the oil of the lamp which burnt before the shrine 
 of the saint whose day they had been celebrating,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 25 
 
 and bore it to the Pope, saying, ' To-day the 
 station took place in such a church, and the saint 
 salutes you.' A solemn message ! The locks of 
 tow were carefully kept to form a pillow, on 
 which the Pontiff's head might rest in his grave. 
 
 No such antiquarian speculations troubled old 
 Xanna as she went homewards, her heart much 
 the lighter for the pauls in her pocket, and the 
 entire and childlike confidence that her prayer 
 must be granted, and Vincenzo's recovery be 
 secured. As her knock came to the door which 
 shut in their rooms, Irene was lighting a small 
 lamp, and with true Roman caution she exclaimed, 
 ' Who is it ?' and came to reconnoitre before she 
 would open. The time had seemed long to her 
 during the old woman's absence : Yincenzo had 
 fallen asleep, and, afraid to rouse him, she had 
 been sitting in the dark with the spaniel's cold 
 nose in her hand. He showed his astonishment 
 at his young master's inactivity as plainly as a 
 hnman being could have done ; and when he stood 
 by the bed, wagging his tail or giving a short bark, 
 while he fixed his intelligent eyes on the boy, 
 tears filled Irene's eyes, and Yincenzo had some 
 difficulty in concealing his own. 
 
 ' Oh, Xanna ! how long you have been ! Down, 
 Tevere, be quiet !' 
 
 ' Eh ! eh ! daughter, go yourself next time. Keep 
 tranquil, evil dog ! you would see what is in my 
 apron, eh ? Little enough I got for all I took, 
 but we can live for a while, and then Madonna 
 help us ! How is my boy ? see what I have 
 brought home, sun of my soul ! Here is a fine 
 supper for us all,' said the old woman, as gay as 
 a child, now that want was staved off for a time,
 
 26 MADEMOISELLE MOItl. 
 
 and producing her handkerchief, full of yellow- 
 brown shells, telline, as she, unlearned in con- 
 chology, would have called them, but more properly 
 donaces, a favourite dish, cooked or uncooked, in 
 Home. ' Scansarti ! begone, dog ! And here is 
 something besides, something to make my darling 
 boy well ; and I have promised Madonna that he 
 will never go to the English church again, now 
 that he has felt her displeasure attends it.' 
 
 Irene looked grave, and wondered that Vin- 
 cenzo made no protest, unless a hasty movement 
 might be so called. A moment afterwards it came 
 upon her, with a sort of stab of pain, that he had 
 not spirits to combat Nanna's prejudices, or to 
 laugh at them as usual, because he believed that 
 never again should he have the power of walking 
 to the English Church.
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 I have been told the virtuous must be happy, 
 And have believed it true : tell me, my friend, 
 What shall disturb the virtuous ? 
 Poverty ! 
 
 SOTTTHEY. 
 
 ONE thing after another was sold ; even Irene's 
 vezzo and the guitar on which she used to 
 play with untaught skill, down to their little lamp, 
 and many other things which it was hard to spare, 
 and which fetched so little at the Monte that 
 Nanna did not scruple to say it was 'an infamy, 
 an iniquity ;' and in truth the institution is not at 
 the present day exactly what was contemplated by 
 the founder, St. Bernardino of Siena. JNanna urged 
 the advisability of taking the vezzo to some one 
 who might be induced to advance a more equitable 
 sum on it, with the promise that it should speedily 
 be redeemed ; and she was disconcerted by Irene's 
 objecting that this was dishonourable, since they 
 had no chance of recovering it. Such a pitch of 
 morality was beyond the old woman, who, though 
 thoroughly faithful to the orphans, had little notion 
 of truth and honesty towards others, and was only 
 a degree above those of her compatriots who pick 
 their neighbour's pockets while reciting their 
 prayers devoutly in a church. 
 
 One thing went, then another ; the picture 
 of Santa Lucia, their mother's patron saint ;
 
 28 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 sketches by their father, in the beautiful carved 
 frames which Yincenzo had delighted to make for 
 them ; at last even the portrait of their mother, 
 their dearest possession ; and as they could not pay 
 the trifling interest due to the Monte for the 
 money lent on these things, they knew that all 
 would speedily be sold in the auction room in the 
 Piazza dei Pellegrini, where so many household 
 treasures are examined by careless hands, and sold 
 for prices far below their real value. 
 
 Each day something went, till at last there was 
 nothing more to sell. Nothing ! and Yincenzo 
 grew no better. He could now sit up a little and 
 use his hands, but that was all, and hunger was 
 close at hand, and an execution for rent impending. 
 Hunger — actual hunger — not a morsel of bread in 
 the cupboard ; not one handful more maize to 
 make another dish of polenta. Daily Irene had 
 grown whiter and thinner as food became scarcer, 
 and what were her brother's feelings, as from his 
 sick bed he saw it, and knew that nothing stood 
 between them and starvation. At any time, a boy 
 must have felt as a trial almost unbearable this 
 sudden change from buoyant health and constant 
 occupation, which made a leisure hour or an occa- 
 sional festa so delightful, to ceaseless pain and 
 forced idleness. Yincenzo had no books, and, 
 moreover, had not been brought up to care for 
 reading ; the future had been his constant dream, 
 and he had no store of recollections to fall back 
 upon ; all day long he lay in his bed with nothing 
 to think of but their desperate condition. The 
 boy had a gallant spirit, and from the day that 
 Irene had been trusted to his care by their dying 
 father, to his elastic youth he had added a man's
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 29 
 
 earnestness. How happy and proud he had been 
 in the knowledge that he supported the whole 
 household ! And now it was all over. At least 
 he would not complain, and as long as any one 
 saw him, he maintained some cheerfulness, and if 
 Irene had not one night fancied that she heard a 
 sound in his room and crept to the door to listen, 
 without waking Xanna, she would never have 
 known how dire was the struggle to keep up that 
 composure by day. She stood for a little while 
 unperceived, watching his face, so white in the 
 moonlight ; she heard broken, despairing, implor- 
 ing prayers, till her heart was ready to break; and 
 if she had followed her impulse she would have 
 rushed to his bedside and sobbed away her wretch- 
 edness there ; but Irene was no longer the mere 
 child she had been but a few weeks before ; she, too, 
 had been taking lessons in self-control. Many times 
 already she had forced out a cheerful answer, and 
 tried to forget that she was hungry, and now she 
 knew that this anguish was meant for no mortal 
 eye, and would not betray that she had seen it. 
 In the morning she asked Yincenzo rather timidly 
 how he was. He answered, ' I'll tell you how 
 many noises I counted last night : — First, at mid- 
 night, some one was wanted on the sixth storv of 
 the house over the way, so there were six knocks. 
 They must sleep soundly up there, for they did 
 not wake till the third summons, that made eighteen 
 thumps. Then came a party very jolly indeed, 
 with a mandolin, all singing ; some one opened a 
 window to listen, so, of course, they began to bark. 
 I never can understand why they do that.' 
 
 ' Modesty ! I suppose they mean to say that 
 they are not worth listening to — mere dogs. How-
 
 30 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ever, they howled rather nicely, so I was sorry 
 when they turned the corner. Then the bells 
 of Sta. Maria Santissima rang for the midnight 
 funzione ; then S. Nicolo struck up just as I was 
 going to sleep ; and then came day-light, and the 
 soldiers and their drums ; before that, I ought to 
 have counted the firing from S. Angelo for the 
 festa, and the man who cries chicory; and so I 
 did not get much sleep to be sure.' 
 
 Not a word of any other reason, and Irene asked 
 no more. 
 
 It being a festa, Nanna, of course, went to mass, 
 and returned so radiant with delight that Irene 
 eagerly asked what had happened. Kanna mys- 
 teriously produced something which she had held 
 in her hand, under her apron, and Irene beheld 
 a bracelet, formed of bosses of garnets, which, from 
 its workmanship, she had no difficulty in recog- 
 nising as Florentine. In answer to her eager 
 questions, JSanna said that she had picked it up 
 in a church — without, however, mentioning that 
 she had seen it fall from the arm of an English 
 lady. She was going to take it to the Ghetto, 
 and see what the Jews would give for it. 
 
 ' But,' said Irene, doubtfully, ' it — it is not ours ; 
 it will be advertised.' 
 
 'Let them advertise, if they like, and let us 
 live, silly child ! ' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' asked Vincenzo. 
 
 Irene explained, though Nanna made a sign to 
 her not to do so. 
 
 ' Of course it is not ours ; go to the libraries in 
 the Piazza di Spagna and say you have found a 
 bracelet; don't keep it here to tempt us,' said 
 Vincenzo, more sharply than they had ever known
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 31 
 
 hiin speak before. Nanna grurnblingly obeyed, 
 comforted a little by the hope of a reward, and on 
 reaching the library, she found the ladies whom she 
 had seen in the church, talking to the bookseller 
 about their loss. He advised an advertisement, 
 but gave them small hopes of recovering it. One 
 of the party said she believed she had heard it drop ; 
 she looked, but there was nothing to be seen, and, 
 if she were right, an old woman, who was kneeling 
 
 near, must Just at this point Nanna appeared ; 
 
 the sight of her caused a sensation, but the 
 bracelet was speedily restored to its owner, who 
 was too well satisfied to ask any questions, and 
 Nanna had no cause to be dissatisfied with Eng- 
 lish liberality. 
 
 Signor Trajano came again and left money, 
 which made Irene and Nanna so happy for several 
 days, that they wondered at Yincenzo's increased 
 depression, for they did not see that he felt how they 
 were living on alms ; and, besides, anything that 
 reminded him of the studio was acutely painful. 
 But, in a short time, these chance supplies were 
 exhausted, and they literally did not know whither 
 to turn for a meal. They rose up hungry in the 
 morning, and went to bed at night almost without 
 having broken their fast, to wake to the same 
 state of things. All their neighbours were very 
 poor ; of the seven or eight families living in the 
 same house with them, most lived from hand to 
 mouth, sleeping on straw, and crowded into one 
 or two rooms. None had the power, if they had 
 the will, to help them. 
 
 Neither of the three complained nor spoke of 
 what was to be done. Old Nanna had tried every 
 resource, even to begging, and all in vain. They
 
 32 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 and starvation kept house together. One after- 
 noon Irene went down to the fountain to fetch 
 some water and cry unseen ; returning with her 
 noiseless step, she saw old Nanna crouched in a 
 corner, her distaff, with no flax on it, lying on the 
 ground beside her ; Vincenzo lying idle, the clay 
 that he had begged Signor Trajano to send him, 
 left untouched beside him ; it was a picture of 
 blank hopelessness. Just then the spaniel, which 
 had followed Irene down, pattered back into the 
 room, looked into his empty food-dish, went up to 
 his master's bedside, and wagged his tail. No- 
 thing could have spoken plainer. 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! ' said Yincenzo, in English, that 
 Nanna might not understand, ' are you hungry ? ' 
 So am I.' 
 
 The dog whined, and put his fore paws on the 
 bed, trying to lick his face. JNanna never looked 
 up, she was sunk into apathetic despair ; but Irene 
 heard only too plainly, and in a passion of anguish 
 she drew her shawl over her head, and ran down 
 stairs out into the street, all her fears and preju- 
 dices forgotten in the kind of despairing hope that 
 she might find some help. Nanna had failed at 
 the workshop, but perhaps they might have pity 
 on a girl who said she was starving. She hurried 
 on, hardly feeling or seeing the passengers whom 
 she ran against or wfeo pushed her off the crowded 
 side paths, till she came to the workshop, where 
 there were more customers than the owners could 
 easily attend to. No one had a minute to spare 
 for her — her entreaties were hardly listened to ; 
 repulsed, she found herself outside the shop again, 
 her last hope gone. She leaned against the wall, 
 too faint and heart sick to move a step further,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 33 
 
 and, half unconsciously, watched the passers by, 
 who brushed impatiently against the object in 
 their way, without stopping to regard it. An old 
 crone with the never-failing scaldino (or basket of 
 charcoal to keep the hands warm) stood near ; 
 Irene heard her mutter, ' Fifteen pauls ; only 
 fifteen pauls to-day ! ' then, in a prolonged whine, 
 1 Give me some little alms, that the Madonna may 
 give you health ! Do not abandon me, signor — 
 madama ! I am so hungry! Oh! hard hearts!' 
 with a snarl, as they passed on, unheeding. A gen- 
 tleman gave her some small coin, and Irene invo- 
 luntarily held out her hand too. He hurried on, 
 saying to his companion, ' These beggars are the 
 pest of the place ; all the same ! I wonder how 
 many scudi I should have spent if I had given a 
 bajocco to every one who has begged since I 
 came out !' 
 
 The lady on his arm laughed, and they dis- 
 appearedin the never-ending stream of promenaders, 
 chiefly gay sight-seers, rejoicing in the sunshine. 
 No one had a glance for the desolate girl, who 
 stood just where she had leant when first sent out 
 of the shop. A child was the only one to have com- 
 passion — a little fellow of perhaps four years old, 
 who came running out of the confectioner's shop 
 next door, preceding his mother, a bun in his fat 
 hand. He was a perfect picture of a rosy, well- 
 dressed English child, in his black velvet pelisse, 
 and a little pink handkerchief round his throat. 
 He was chattering with all his might, till he looked 
 up and met the wistful black eyes of Irene. She 
 did not beg this time; she only looked at the bun as 
 if famished, and the little one suddenly put it into 
 her hand and scrambled into a carriage after his 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 mother ; Irene saw bis rosy laughing face pressed 
 against the glass to watch her as they drove away. 
 She had clutched the bun fast — what a mouthful 
 it was to a girl who bad eaten nothing that day ! 
 but she had scarcely devoured it, when the thought 
 of Nanna and Vincenzo at home flashed upon her. 
 She had forgotten them ! Poor child, her hungry 
 impulse seemed actual sin ; she had eaten the bun 
 while her sick brother was starving at home ! 
 Miserable as she felt, she had recovered a little 
 energy — she turned homewards, but had to go back 
 with no comfort for those she should find there ! 
 And yet she had trusted — she had believed long, 
 for time in some circumstances cannot be counted 
 by days and hours ; she had believed so firmly 
 that help would be sent them ! had that promise 
 indeed failed ? and if so, where was she to turn for 
 help ? Three o'clock was past and the churches were 
 again open : she entered the first she came to, and 
 hiding her face in her hands, wept so passionately 
 that she did not perceive that one of a party of 
 English, who were examining the pictures and 
 statues, had approached her, and laying a hand 
 on her shoulder, asked gently what had happened. 
 Startled by the touch, Irene hastily lifted a face 
 so white and so thin that the lady started, looked 
 doubtful, and said, ' Have I not seen you in the 
 English Church ?' 
 
 ' I go there.' 
 
 ' Then what right have you here, my child ?' 
 
 ' It is God's house ; I have the right of every 
 one who is unhappy,' Irene answered. 
 
 'And why are you unhappy ? Have you been 
 ill?' 
 
 In reply Irene told her story, ending with,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 35 
 
 1 Oh, signora, it was so wicked of me to eat that 
 bun ! I forgot Yincenzo ! I did indeed !' 
 
 ' AVill you take me to see Yincenzo ?' 
 
 A sudden flash of delight from Irene's black 
 eyes was the answer, and her companion returned 
 to her party and spoke a few words, which were 
 received with smiling incredulity. JNo one objected, 
 however, and she accompanied Irene, stopping at 
 the first breadshop they came to that Irene might 
 have something more substantial than a bun, and 
 convey a supply to her home. In all the ecstasy 
 of renewed hope, she hurried her new friend along, 
 through streets quite unknown to the latter, till 
 they reached their destination, a square, which to 
 judge by the number of old palaces, must once 
 have been a favourite quarter of the nobility, but 
 now each floor was divided into many apartments 
 and let to the poor ; rags hung to dry from many 
 windows, and hides, scentiug the whole air, were 
 suspended before one stately mansion ; there was 
 a general look of poverty and dirt everywhere. 
 Into one of these palaces, Irene introduced her 
 companion, running lightly before her up flight 
 after flight of stairs. ]N"anna came slowly to the 
 door in answer to her impatient knock ; she had 
 not even perceived her absence, ]N"anna who usually 
 watched over her like a dragon ! 
 
 1 Oh, Xamia !' began Irene, breathlessly, ' this 
 lady has come to see us, and she has brought us all 
 this! She carried it all down the Corso, and did not 
 mind ! and I must give Yincenzo some dinner im- 
 mediately — see !' 
 
 ' Per Bacco V exclaimed Nanna, taking posses- 
 sion of the visitor's hand and kissing it, as she 
 conducted her into the next room, where Irene was 
 
 d 2
 
 36 MADEMOISELLE MOBI. 
 
 explaining eagerly to Yincenzo. The lady advanced 
 and took the hand, thin and fair as an invalid girl's, 
 which he held out to her, examining her face 
 attentively, then smiling and saying, ' Mrs. Dalzell.' 
 
 ' How do you know my name ?' she asked, much 
 surprised. 
 
 ' I worked in Signor Trajano's studio, and he 
 had just begun to model your bust before my 
 accident.' 
 
 ' I knew I had seen you somewhere before. I 
 noticed you in the English Church,' she answered ; 
 ' I have long wished to meet with you ; fortune 
 favoured me to-day.' 
 
 "While Irene insisted on Yincenzo' s eating im- 
 mediately, Mrs. Dalzell looked round and asked 
 questions, and felt very sure that here at least she 
 was safe from the imposition which her friends had 
 predicted. If M. de Crillon had seen the room 
 now, he would have had no doubt as to the poverty 
 of its owners, and when Mrs. Dalzell looked at 
 the faces of the brother and sister, she felt that 
 she had come but just in time. Old Nanna saw 
 her compassionate look and exclaimed, ' If the 
 signora had but seen the boy before he fell ill ! he 
 was an Adonis, an Apollo ! ah !' (shaking her hand 
 at him) ' and a demon too, a tempest, wicked boy ! 
 He would rush upstairs shaking the whole house ! 
 Santa Vergine /' as she caught a clearer view of 
 Mrs. Dalzell than she had yet done, and she sum- 
 moned Irene aside. The girl speedily returned, 
 saying with animation, ' Nanna says you were with 
 the lady whose bracelet she found !' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell's sensation was far from pleasant, 
 as she recalled her conviction that the bracelet had 
 rather been stolen than found, but she was con-
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 37 
 
 vinced that the orphans were unconnected with 
 the affair. However, she was glad when Irene 
 added, ' We were so poor that day that Nanna 
 wanted to sell it, but Yincenzo would not let her.' 
 
 1 1 am glad of it ; I know that my friend values 
 it particularly. Have you really no one to take 
 care of you but this old woman ? "What hands 
 for a girl to be in !' she added, mentally. 
 
 ■ No, no one else. Tevere, do you really want 
 some more ! Oh fie ! No one else, signora, but 
 she is so kind and true to us. She is a pearl, an 
 oriental pearl of probity,' said Irene, whose Eng- 
 lish, though fluent, was apt to be a translation 
 from the more poetical Italian. The figure of 
 speech, especially so applied, made Mrs. Dalzell 
 smile, and she thought that the truth and probity 
 probably began and ended at home. 
 
 1 1 never knew the value of my dinner so well 
 before, signora,' said Yincenzo, sinking comfort- 
 ably back on the pillows, which Irene had re- 
 arranged for him. 
 
 ' "We had almost forgotten what dinner was,' 
 she added. 
 
 ' Is it possible you could find no assistance ?' 
 asked Mrs. Dalzell ; ' I thought the Eoman chari- 
 ties were magnificent.' 
 
 1 They are not for such as we ; they are to keep 
 quiet the bassa gente — the populace,' replied Irene, 
 with grave simplicity. 
 
 ' And not for Protestants,' added Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Ah, no. And you have no friends, though 
 you have lived here so long ?' 
 
 I None who can help us. My father had few ; 
 he lived for his art.' 
 
 I I should like to be considered as your friend
 
 38 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 then,' said Mrs. Dalzell, rising to take leave. 
 * Signor Trajano and I must have a little talk 
 together. Give me your doctor's address again, 
 and don't forget mine. I shall come to pay you 
 another visit in a day or two.' She took Vin- 
 cenzo's hand in hers, as she spoke and looked 
 kindly at his face, so much altered from what she 
 remembered it, that it was hard to believe he was 
 the fine handsome boy she had admired on the 
 Pincian Hill. 
 
 ' I would thank you if I could, signora,' he 
 answered, in hurried, faltering tones. ' Oh, sig- 
 nora, we were starving — she was starving' — looking 
 at Irene ; ' that was worst ; I was beginning to 
 wish I were dead, sooner than see it.' 
 
 ' Oh, Vincenzo !' said Irene, with a crimson 
 blush. 
 
 ' I shall leave you to make your confessions to 
 him,' said Mrs. Dalzell: 'but, meanwhile, will you 
 come here and say something for me to Nanna ?' 
 
 She gave Nanna what she judged would be 
 sufficient for their present wants, and departed 
 before the old woman had half expressed her 
 voluble gratitude.
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 What sorrow was, thou had'st her know, 
 
 And from her own, she learnt to melt at other's woe. 
 
 Geat. 
 
 MRS. DALZELL was a widow, still young, and 
 rich. She had come to Home for the first 
 time in her life, and friends, who had known her 
 in former days, expected her to be enthusiastically 
 delighted with its wonders ; but, hitherto, she 
 had gone through the routine of sight-seeing with 
 a somewhat forced interest, and the first thing 
 that really roused her was the history of the 
 orphans. Her friends were too glad to see her 
 begin to shake off the depression, caused by heavy 
 trials, to wish to interfere, though they took it 
 for granted that she would be imposed on. She set 
 about her task in a very business-like manner ; she 
 saw the physician who had first attended Yincenzo, 
 and sent a good surgeon to see him ; and she had 
 a great deal of conversation with Signor Trajano 
 about him ; but she found it so difficult to devise 
 any schemes for the permanent benefit of the 
 orphans, that she returned to their house to see 
 whether they had any ideas on the subject them- 
 selves. Cheerfulness and comfort had revisited the 
 rooms, and Irene and Yincenzo met her greeting 
 with bright looks. She had calculated her gift on 
 an English scale, ignorant of how far Italians can 
 make a little money go, and she assuredly had
 
 40 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 not expected that almost the first use of her 
 bounty would be the recovery of Irene's gold ear- 
 rings. Irene exhibited them to her with delight, 
 relating how they had been first pledged, and then 
 sold ; but how Nanna had discovered who had bought 
 them and got them back. Unaware of the extreme 
 value attached to the vezzo, Mrs. Dalzell was 
 inclined to regard this as mere foreign love of 
 finery, and determined, for the future, not to trust 
 Nanna with more money than necessary. She 
 sat down by Vincenzo, who was cheered by having 
 been allowed to leave his bed and be carried to a 
 sofa. He was carving a bunch of cyclamen leaves 
 and flowers, with a delicacy and grace that sur- 
 prised her, and Irene told of the beautiful frames 
 that he had made for their father's pictures — all 
 sold now. She stopped, seeing the flush that rose 
 to her brother's face at the recollection of those 
 lost treasures, so inestimable to the orphans. 
 Mrs. Dalzell described to him a room which she 
 had once seen decorated by a celebrated carver 
 with groups of birds, musical instruments, and 
 flowers, in exactly the same style as Vincenzo' s, 
 and asked him if he did not think he might gain 
 a livelihood in this way. 
 
 ' Oh, signora ! To get my own living again ! 
 not to live on charity — to be even thus much of an 
 artist ! You little know what happiness you have 
 given me !' 
 
 ' I think I know several people who would em- 
 ploy you,' she replied, amused at the un-English 
 vehemence of his gratitude ; the invalid's face 
 seemed suddenly to have recovered its bloom ; 
 the dark eyes sparkled ; Vincenzo looked for a 
 time transformed into his old self. ' Finish what
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 41 
 
 you are about, and then let me have it. And 
 what can Irene do ?' 
 
 I Irene wishes to be a prima donna/ answered 
 Yincenzo, smiling. 
 
 ' A prima donna !' 
 
 I I could act, I think,' said Irene herself; and 
 Mrs. Dalzell, watching her expressive and graceful 
 movements and looks, felt that she was right. 
 
 ' And she can sing,' added Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Ah ! she must let me hear her.' 
 
 ' Sing something, carina,' said Yincenzo ; ' what 
 a pity your chitarra is gone !' 
 
 1 What is that ? I thought the mandolin was 
 the Eoman instrument.' 
 
 1 That is a man's instrument. Oh, signora, at 
 Easter you should go to the Villa Borghese, on the 
 river side, to see the people dancing the salterello 
 and playing with castanets and the mandolin — it 
 is beautiful !' 
 
 1 But now I want to hear you.' 
 
 "With a glance towards Yincenzo, Irene began 
 a popular canzone, acting the expression just 
 enough to show how much dramatic power she 
 possessed, and soon, so entirely forgetting all but 
 her song, that her tones, at first faltering, became 
 steady and full, and proved how fine the voice 
 would some day be. Yincenzo watched the face 
 of Mrs. Dalzell anxiously, and thought he read 
 surprise and admiration. He was much disap- 
 pointed when, as the song ceased, she quietly 
 remarked, ' You have a very nice voice, but I 
 should be sorry you should turn it to account on the 
 stage. You can have no idea of the temptations 
 and trials of such a life, or of its hard work either.' 
 - Irene made no answer. Mrs. Dalzell sat think-
 
 42 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ing, and Vincenzo said, ' She very nearly went to 
 Madame St. Simon the other day to beg her to 
 teach her, only her courage failed/ 
 
 ' It will not do so again, Vincenzo.' 
 
 1 You wish it so much ?' said Mrs. Dalzell ; 
 ' what do you know about it ?' 
 
 Irene looked at her brother, who replied for 
 her, ' I do not know whether she be quite in 
 earnest, and I believe it is not acting that she 
 cares so much for ; she would like to be a prima 
 donna at the opera/ 
 
 ' But I am in earnest, Vincenzo,' said Irene, 
 emphatically. 
 
 It was not the life that Mrs. Dalzell would have 
 chosen for her protegee. She avoided a definite 
 answer, and left them, glad that Vincenzo' s plans 
 were more sober, and recommending him to finish 
 his carving as soon as he could. He, delighted to 
 be employed again, and employed, too, on a kind 
 of sculpture where his imagination had play, was 
 happier than he had been since his accident, and 
 seemed insensible to the fatigue which even this 
 slight labour caused him. Irene, on the contrary, 
 was moody, and said, after a long silence, ' I be- 
 lieve I could be a great cantatrice ; I do not see 
 what right this English lady has to interfere.' 
 
 ' Interfere !' said Vincenzo, looking up in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 ' Yes, interfere. I shall ask Madame St. Simon 
 to help me, not this Signora Dalzell ; and if I suc- 
 ceed I can repay her ; many learn on that condi- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Child! child!' broke in Nanna, ' are you crazy? 
 what are you saying ? This rich English lady can 
 make us live in Asiatic luxury ; her purse drops
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 43 
 
 gold, and you had not the sense to tell her to-day 
 that we have not got the corona back ; did you 
 not hear what I said to you ?' 
 
 ' She has done too much already,' said Vincenzo; 
 1 help of this kind I can take,' pointing to his 
 carving ; ' but we are not beggars.' 
 
 ' Xo, and because I do not wish to live on her 
 money or on any one else's, I want to learn sing- 
 ing,' said Irene, with cheeks so flushed and eyes so 
 tearful, that Vincenzo found the matter was more 
 serious than he had imagined, and asked gravely 
 how loDg she had had this fancy. 
 
 1 You might remember that I always wished it, 
 Vincenzo, long before — before our troubles, but 
 I never thought it was possible till that day when 
 you said I sang as well as Madame St. Simon.' 
 
 ' It was an unlucky day when I said it. Think 
 how actresses are regarded.' 
 
 I If I were prima donna, my profession should 
 be esteemed for my sake ; I would make it the 
 most honourable in Rome. Vincenzo, cannot you 
 understand that as you — as men I mean — wish for 
 fame, so women may ! I think, if one has the 
 power to do anything, one must and one ought 
 to do it,' said Irene, who seemed in the last few 
 weeks to have grown from a child into a woman ; 
 the ambition that had lain dormant in her heart 
 was awake, and no spell known to prudent brother 
 or friend could lull it to sleep again. The bird 
 had found out the use of its wings ; its nest would 
 soon seem only a prison. Vincenzo had had visions 
 of his own, he comprehended. 
 
 I I understand, Irene,' he said, unconsciously 
 speaking very mournfully ; ' I know that when 
 one has a vocation and cannot follow it, one must
 
 44 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 feel like a swallow which cannot migrate ; but how 
 is it that you care so suddenly and so much about 
 this ?' 
 
 ' Because till lately I had — I had — I cannot tell 
 you.' 
 
 ' Perhaps till lately you thought so much of 
 fame for me that you did not want it for your- 
 self!' 
 
 Irene turned away hastily ; she could not bear 
 to realize what nevertheless she knew full well, 
 that Yincenzo's chance of fame was gone for ever. 
 She came back caressingly to his side, almost as if 
 asking pardon. ' I could not help thinking about 
 it ; I was so glad of any pleasant fancies, and I 
 thought so often to myself what Madame St. Simon 
 would say, and what I w T ould sing to prove to her 
 that I had a voice, that at last I almost believed it 
 had all come to pass ; but the last few days, when 
 we were so hungry, I had not courage ; I did not 
 seem to care for anything.' 
 
 ' Poor little one,' said Vincenzo, affectionately. 
 And she, taking courage, nestled close to him, 
 whispering, 
 
 ' But don't say you will never be well again ; 
 you are better already, and if, as the doctor says, 
 you could go into the country and have baths — ' 
 
 ' Don't talk about it, Irene,' said Vincenzo, 
 unaware that he was speaking sharply; I would 
 rather think about you and your singing.' 
 
 ' I care more for you than even for that,' she 
 answered. 
 
 Vincenzo had a Roman's love of music and a 
 Roman's delight in the theatre, and the idea of 
 letting Irene follow her wishes grew less unwel- 
 come as he considered them. After all, he was but
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 45 
 
 a boy, and the dream of renown for her, if not for 
 himself, was very pleasant. He pictured to himself 
 her success, and mentally compared her voice with 
 those of the few public singers of note whom he 
 had heard, and it did not suffer by comparison. 
 She had almost won him over to her side before 
 night, and JNanna was vehemently in her favour. 
 Yincenzo had heard enough of theatres to make 
 him hesitate a little, but even this anxiety was a 
 relief to his mind, wearied with dwelling on one 
 subject. His dreams were an odd mixture of 
 cyclamens, musical instruments, hisses and ap- 
 plause, and even the famous Book of Visions 
 could hardly have explained one wherein he be- 
 held Irene playing on the tool which Italian 
 sculptors call a violin, in the Teatro Eegio. 
 Mrs. Dalzell was much worried by the turn 
 affairs had taken. She had intended to help the 
 orphans in some sober unobtrusive way, and had 
 little expected to find a musical genius upon her 
 hands. She knew too well how much entertained 
 most of her English friends would be, to feel in- 
 clined to confide her perplexities to them ; in their 
 stead, she sought an old acquaintance whom she 
 had known slightly years before in London, and had 
 found again living in Rome, a Madame Marriotti, 
 by birth a Spaniard, once the idol of the musical 
 world, and who still in advanced age preserved her 
 love of music, with the execution and taste, and 
 even something of the voice, that had made her 
 pre-eminent among the professional musicians of 
 her day. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell wanted to find her alone and dis- 
 engaged, and therefore sent a note, announcing 
 that she was coming to spend the evening with
 
 46 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 her, whenever she had no reception. She walked 
 alone to Madame Marriotti's abode, her own being 
 close by, and her habits very independent. She 
 had yet to learn Italian ways, and was greatly sur- 
 prised, on reaching the archway leading into the 
 house, to find herself in total darkness, aud hear a 
 trampling as if oxen or horses were close by. 
 Remembering that the staircase faced a stable, she 
 hastily retreated into the street, where at least 
 there was such light as could be obtained from one 
 dim oil-lamp at the far end of it, and another burn- 
 ing under a picture of the Virgin, fastened on the 
 wall. When all was quiet, she ventured in again, 
 and, with some trepidation, felt her way up two 
 steep nights of stairs, happily, at last, chancing to 
 lay her hand on a string, which caused a bell some- 
 where to ring. A voice, up aloft, exclaimed, ' Chi e f* 
 and the heavy door at the head of the stairs was 
 opened a little way. Mrs. Dalzell profited by the 
 ray of light that shone through the crack, and 
 soon made her way to Madame Marriotti's rooms. 
 A quick, clear voice from within, answered, ' Passi /' 
 to her knock, and entering, she found Madame 
 Marriotti rummaging papers in a cabinet, with a 
 fur cloak wrapped round her, and a little re&faz- 
 zoletto on her head. She turned round to look at 
 her visitor, exhibiting a small dark face, with vivid 
 black eyes and jet-black crisped hair, scarcely 
 streaked with grey ; a face which she herself 
 always con8idered ugly, but which was capable of 
 such varying and brilliant expression, that it was 
 worth all imaginable beauty of colouring. Her 
 figure was of fairy proportions, and still as light 
 and active as a girl's, though little could be seen 
 of it in her manifold wraps, and neither it nor her
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 47 
 
 countenance owed anything to her costume, which, 
 to say the least, was singular ; and altogether a 
 more original little creature than the celebrated 
 cantatrice would have been hard to find. She 
 ceased hunting through her papers for a moment, 
 to shake hands with Mrs. Dalzell, and stir the 
 wood fire, where an earthen pot was boiling, set 
 on an iron tripod, contrasting oddly with the size 
 and handsome furniture of the apartment. 
 
 'Ah, so you have come,' said she, absently, as if 
 she had not well mastered the idea that Mrs. 
 Dalzell was present. ' I was thinking of you this — 
 ah, by the bye, you sent me a note. I cannot 
 think where this letter is,' she said, returning to 
 the cabinet, and soliloquizing in short sentences 
 while she rustled the papers. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell waited with exemplary patience 
 till the missing one was found, and Madame 
 Marriotti came voluntarily to sit beside her and 
 talk. Then she began telling her business, grow- 
 ing more eager as she proceeded, and looking at 
 Madame Marriotti as she ended, to see what effect 
 she had produced. 
 
 1 Ah — yes — ' was the reply, in a preoccupied 
 manner ; ' it is a curious story. I dare say you 
 are right.' 
 
 1 My dear madame, have you heard a word of 
 what I said ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I heard it,' was the answer, in exactly 
 the same dreamy tone ; then all at once wakening 
 up to present things, she asked very sharply, 
 1 What did you say ?' 
 
 In short, her mind had been absent, and Mrs. 
 Dalzell' s story had reached her ear, but not her 
 brain, and had to be told all over again. She
 
 43 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 listened this time with increasing surprise and 
 disdain. 
 
 ' A cantatrice ! you are dreaming ! I dare say 
 the girl has a pretty voice ; every Eoman can sing ; 
 they are all musical ; if you passed any cafe to-night 
 where there was music, you might have seen a 
 crowd outside the door listening, and every one of 
 that crowd could have joined in the airs played ; 
 that is a very different thing from having a talent 
 for the stage. Make a Maestro, Pia of the girl, if 
 you don't know what to do with her ; hut don't 
 turn her head with talking of the theatre.' 
 
 ' I am sure I am most guiltless of wishing her 
 to be an actress,' said Mrs. Dalzell, half laughing ; 
 ' and I have not an idea what a Maestra Pia is.' 
 
 ' Don't you know ? The Maestre Pie have 
 three great houses of education here for the mid- 
 dle class, and besides some of them hold free 
 schools in every parish in the Papal States ; they 
 don't go very deep, you know, so nobody is afraid 
 of them ; but we don't love education over much 
 here. They take no perpetual vows, but there is 
 some ceremony when they are admitted.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell laughed outright this time. ' I 
 don't think that would do at all, and besides, Irene 
 cannot leave her brother. I assure you her voice 
 is not a common one, and if you had seen her 
 graceful gestures as she told me her story — ' 
 
 ' All that may be very true, especially if she has 
 Neapolitan blood in her — have you been at Naples ? 
 No ? — well, they converse there more by looks and 
 gestures than by words — it is not proved that 
 she has the slightest talent for the stage.' 
 
 ' Her wish is so strong, however, that she was 
 near applying to Madame St. Simon.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 49 
 
 I That settles it at once. That woman ! I do 
 assure you, my dear — ' Madame Marriotti started 
 up in her energy — * I do assure you it makes me 
 perfectly ill to hear her. A vain, heartless coquette, 
 without a grain of sentiment — nothing but a flexi- 
 ble voice with which she can do wonderful things, 
 I daresay ; I hear every one say so except the 
 Abate Grossi, the only man who knows what 
 music is — real old music ; he keeps up the tradi- 
 tions of the old ways, and hates this new school of 
 macaws, just as I do. No. If this girl admires 
 Madame St. Simon, that is enough.' 
 
 I I wish you would hear her, at all events.' 
 1 "Where do they live ? ' 
 
 1 It is near. Tou know the church of St. 
 Andrea della Valle — the famous church which 
 everv one goes to see.' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 1 Not, my dear madame ? impossible ! ' 
 
 1 JS"o,' repeated the old lady, very incredulous of 
 its existence. 
 
 ' "Well,' said Mrs. Dalzell, resignedly, knowing 
 that Madame Marriotti might have seen it fifty 
 times without being conscious of its existence, 
 unless something particular brought the fact home 
 to her mind, ' it does not matter much ; I could not 
 ask you to go there, but should you object to my 
 bringing her here, without, of course, pledging you 
 in any way ? I really should be thankful to put 
 this fancy out of her head, and from your decision 
 there could be no appeal.' 
 
 ' Tou may bring her here if you like, but I 
 cannot promise to admire her singing, out of 
 politeness. I know exactly the kind of thing it 
 will be.' 
 
 VOL. I. E.
 
 50 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Very well, only be so kind as to hear her sing 
 once ; then we can settle abont it,' said Mrs. 
 Dalzell ; and Madame Marriotti began to talk of 
 some matter uppermost in her mind, and entirely 
 forgot the first part of the conversation. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell found that friends had arranged 
 plans for her and themselves, which occupied the 
 whole of the next day ; and pictures, churches, 
 ruins and views, left no room in her mind for her 
 proteges. Returning to her lodgings at night, 
 weary, excited, and feeling that she had seen an 
 immense variety of things, which she could not 
 clearly recal, a more living interest was brought 
 back by the sight of Yincenzo's carving, which 
 had arrived in her absence. Minute inspection 
 only made her better pleased with it, and she 
 placed it in her drawing-room, intending to become 
 its purchaser ; but a friend called the next day, and 
 at once declared it must be his — it would exactly 
 suit a painting which he had bought — where had 
 she met with it ? She told its history, and gave 
 Yincenzo's address, with strong hopes that other 
 orders would follow, and she could not resist taking 
 him the good news at once. Irene met her with 
 such cheerful looks that she smiled, and asked 
 if she had forgiven her for opposing her wishes. 
 Irene blushed and looked at Yincenzo, who 
 answered, smiling, ' She expects that you have 
 brought her good news.' 
 
 ' How could she guess anything about it ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, you have, signora !' cried Irene, with great 
 animation ; ' I knew you would, for I had a good 
 dream last night ! ' 
 
 ' It may be only my frame ; I think that is 
 enough good luck for to-day ! ' said Yincenzo.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 51 
 
 ' A dream, my dear child ? What did you 
 dream about ?' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 ' I dreamed of farina,' replied Irene, seriously ; 
 but, perceiving that her visitor did not comprehend, 
 she added, ' Tou know, that always means good 
 fortune. I did not know what it would be ; but 
 as soon as I saw you from the window, I was sure 
 that you were bringing me good news about my 
 singing.' 
 
 ' Farina?'' repeated Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 What bread is made of, signora. Do you not 
 call it thus V 
 
 1 Flour,' added Yincenzo. 
 
 ' My dear, do you really mean that you believe 
 in dreams ? ' 
 
 1 Oh, yes, every one does. Kanna can tell what 
 nearly every dream means. Before Yincenzo' s 
 accident she dreamed of water — that means tears ; 
 and she was so unhappy all that Sunday, knowing 
 that some misfortune would happen, and, you know, 
 it did ; and afterwards, she and I both dreamed 
 we were in the street in our night-dresses, and 
 that means poverty. You see that, certainly, 
 was true, for we were almost starving when you 
 came.' 
 
 'And do you believe in dreams too?' asked 
 Mrs. Dalzell of Yincenzo. 
 
 ' ISo, not I ; but we are obliged to believe more 
 wonderful things -still in this place,' he answered, 
 with a smile of contempt. 
 
 Irene interrupted hastily — ' Now, don't laugh, 
 Yincenzo ; it will bring ill luck. Do they not 
 believe in dreams in England, signora?' 
 
 ' How much did papa believe in them ? ' inquired 
 Yincenzo. 
 
 LIBRARY E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Oh, but papa was — was — was — perhaps Pro- 
 testants do not believe in such things ? ' 
 
 ' AYell-educated people,' began Mrs. Dalzell, 
 stopping, because, as the hour of noon was an- 
 nounced by the churches, Irene stood up, Nanna 
 crossed herself, and Yincenzo, too, assumed a 
 serious attitude. After a few moments Nanna 
 took up her knitting again ; Irene sat down ; and 
 Yincenzo, seeing their visitor's look of perplexity, 
 said, ' The Angelus ; at noon every one repeats 
 it. Did you never notice men taking off their 
 hats in the street when it is noon ? ' 
 
 ' But I thought you were Protestants.' 
 
 1 We are, but mamma taught us to say the 
 Angelus; she thought one thing right, and papa 
 another. I believe as he did, but Nanna has 
 taught Irene all sorts of nonsense.' 
 
 ' Oh, Yincenzo ! ' 
 
 1 Well, really, I cannot accept the history of Sta. 
 Pilomena on the same ground as I do St. Paul's ; 
 and Nanna knows much more about that Sta. Filo- 
 mena than she does of the Apostles. Really one 
 is told to believe so much that one is ready to 
 believe nothing.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell found that from being children of 
 a Protestant, the brother and sister had never 
 had the advantage of such education as otherwise 
 would have come within their reach in Borne ; 
 they had not attended any of the classes or cate- 
 chizings to which Eoman Catholic children are 
 summoned. They had never been to any kind of 
 school, and Irene had been almost entirely left to 
 Nanna's care. English both she and Yincenzo 
 spoke easily, but read with difficulty. Mrs. Dal- 
 zell offered books to the latter, and would not seem
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 53 
 
 to see that he received the proposal gratefully, but 
 not eagerly. She took Irene away with her, with- 
 out fully informing her how important was the 
 impending interview with Madame Marriotti, but 
 telling her enough of the cantatrice to inspire a 
 respect for her judgment. Irene had never heard 
 of her. Madame Marriotti's public days were past 
 before Irene ever saw the iuside of a theatre, but 
 when she heard that the lady had been a prima 
 donna in London, her awe and respect were bound- 
 less. Her own wildest dreams had never reached 
 such a height ; she believed that nothing but 
 diamonds and rubies were showered on public 
 singers in that capital of golden streets ! 
 
 Madame Marriotti had never thought again of 
 the affair, and was in a not infrequent mood of 
 nervous irritability, which augured ill for a candid 
 judgment. Mrs. Dalzell regretted that she had 
 brought Irene, and was growing very nervous her- 
 self. To cut matters short she took up a heap of 
 popular songs and asked Irene if she knew any 
 of them. The girl withdrew her earnest glance 
 from Madame Marriotti for the first time since she 
 entered, and pointed out a favourite popular air. 
 
 ' Well, let us hear whether you can sing it,' said 
 Madame Marriotti reluctantly, but going to her 
 piano and striking the first notes. Irene came to 
 her side and obeyed. Mrs. Dalzell watched, with 
 a half smile, her friend's start of surprise and 
 the deep attention with which she listened. 
 
 1 Can you sing this ?' she asked, without any 
 comment, as Irene paused. ' You don't know it ? 
 Oh, yes, you do ; listen, La, la, la, la,' — humming 
 the first bars. Finding that her young visitor really 
 did not know it, she made an impatient gesture and
 
 54 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 saug it herself, playing the accompaniment, looking 
 from time to time at Irene, who listened entranced, 
 and exclaimed in English to Mrs. Dalzell, ' But it 
 is a marvel ! I never heard any singing like that !' 
 
 1 Not Madame St. Simon's ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no, no, no, this is quite different ; this 
 is beautiful — most beautiful!' 
 
 Now Madame Marriotti, though sne professed 
 not to understand English, had lived quite long 
 enough in London to comprehend every word, 
 and the young girl's admiration pleased her, 
 though she had had the homages of illustrious 
 audiences laid at her feet till she was weary of 
 them. 
 
 < Well,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 * Well, she will do, I think. I must consider. 
 Here, my dear ; you want to be a cantatrice, they 
 tell me ; I was one myself, and I know the life ; 
 now listen to me." 
 
 Thereupon followed a very unflattered picture 
 of the trials of a celebrated singer, at the end of 
 which she waited to hear what Irene had to say. 
 
 ' But, if the signora had foreseen all this, she 
 would still have been a cantatrice.' 
 
 1 Not for fame or fortune, though. I found both 
 pleasant enough ; but if that had been all, half the 
 heart-aches would have far outweighed them.' 
 
 ' I think the music would make amends for all 
 the rest,' said Irene. 
 
 ' If you feel that, you are good for something. 
 There, we have talked enough about it ; what are 
 you going to do with the child now, Mrs. Dalzell ? 
 I want you to sit a little longer ; can't she go 
 home now ?' 
 
 ' If she knows her way.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 55 
 
 1 Yes, yes, but whom has she to go with ? You 
 are not going alone, iny dear ?' 
 
 ' Oh, no,' answered Irene, shrinking. 
 
 ' I had not thought of that,' began Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 ' But you should think about it, my dear. 
 Italian girls can't go scampering about the streets 
 like your English ones ; we don't consider it re- 
 spectable. Can't your servant escort her ?' 
 
 ' Yes, but you must let me go to look for some 
 books for Yincenzo.' 
 
 AYhen she returned she found Madame Marriotti 
 still at the piano, playing a few bars now and 
 then and meditating. She looked up and said 
 abruptly, - It would be a thousand pities not to 
 cultivate such a voice as that.' 
 
 1 So I think, but the life ' 
 
 1 Oh, the life, the life ; I know many public 
 singers whose names stand as high as any lady's 
 name in England. I myself can witness that it is 
 a life which can be made an honour ; if it have great 
 temptations, it has great rewards for those who are 
 real votaries, who look upon it as an art — not a 
 trade. If this child were well trained, brought 
 up properly, if she had some good quiet friends to 
 look after her, she might do admirably ; and with 
 the talent she has, she will be a cantatrice whether 
 you like it or not. It would be a sin to let the 
 St. Simon demoralize her voice.' 
 
 1 If she had but some better teaching than the 
 old nurse's — that woman has a covetous, cunning 
 look which quite frightens me, and I am sure she 
 is not honest ; and then the confusion of religious 
 ideas in these children's minds is so painful.' 
 
 * The girl believing everything, and the boy 
 nothing, I suppose — a common case here.'
 
 56 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' No ; Vincenzo has more ideas on the subject 
 than I should have expected; but Irene actually 
 professed entire faith in dreams this morning.' 
 
 She was interrupted by a burst of laughter from 
 Madame Marriotti. ' Dreams, my dear ? There is 
 not a household which does not possess the Libro 
 dei Sogni. What ! is it possible you don't know 
 what that is ? Not know what that is !' She 
 rang her bell, aud, when the maid entered, asked, 
 changing from French into Italian, " Zenaide, I 
 want the dream book.' In two minutes, a worn 
 copy was produced, which Madame Marriotti put 
 into Mrs. Dalzell's hands. Opening it at the first 
 page, she found an alphabetical list of words, each 
 with numbers attached. • An index ?' she said, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 1 No, not at all. These numbers relate to the 
 lottery. You, probably, don't know the enormous 
 importance of the lottery here ; there is hardly a 
 house in Eome, I'll answer for it, without this 
 book. You don't understand yet ? Now, for 
 instance, I dream I walked into the Via Margutta, 
 and a dog came out of a house and bit my hand. 
 On waking, I look for dog, house, or hand, or all 
 three, and take one or more of the numbers 
 belonging to these words, in the lottery. It need 
 not, necessarily, be a dream ; for example, in one 
 Carnival there was a frightful accident — some 
 children killed by the mossa, the charge of the 
 dragoons, to clear the Corso. "Well, there was a 
 perfect run upon the lottery after that ; they took 
 Carnival — horse — child — die so io — yes, and mis- 
 fortune and accident too ; for, now I come to think 
 about it, misfortune was the only one that drew a 
 prize ; No. 32, is it not ?'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 57 
 
 ' But, surely, this is one of the books that 
 would be prohibited ?' 
 
 ' My dear, if you look, you will see on the con- 
 trary it is published with the Censor's approval ; 
 we must have some amusement, and, besides, it is 
 profitable to Government — 
 
 II gioco in complesso 
 
 E un vizio bestiale, 
 Ma il lotto in se stesso 
 
 Ha non che di morale ! 
 
 I wonder who the clever rogue is who writes these 
 things ; I had those verses on the lottery sent me 
 in manuscript, under the rose, and my friend only 
 got them in the same way ; yet one hears them 
 whispered everywhere. But about this girl — I 
 have a great mind to teach her myself; I want 
 something to do sometimes, and I should rather 
 like another pupil.' 
 
 1 She could not have a better teacher !' 
 
 1 But, then, she knows nothing — she has every- 
 thing to learn. I should never have patience, 
 and, besides, it is an immense responsibility to be 
 any way answerable for a girl ; I would not ask 
 a mother to trust her daughter with me for an 
 hour; she would be having billets doux — falling 
 in love !' 
 
 ' My idea was,' said Mrs. Dalzell, without at- 
 tempting to persuade her, 'to take them away 
 from their present lodgings, and establish them in 
 some that my landlady had not let/ 
 
 ' Who is your Padrona di Casa ? Cecchi ? I 
 had forgotten — did not I recommend her to you ? 
 I forget so many things now. Then you could 
 keep your eye on this girl.'
 
 58 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' She and her brother interest me more than I 
 can tell you, and I might do something for Irene, 
 if I had her constantly with me till June.' 
 
 ' What will your friends say to your spending 
 your time in this way ?' 
 
 ' You know I came to Rome for mental change ; 
 it does not matter how I get it, and I don't mean 
 to neglect the sight-seeing ; I am only afraid of 
 thinking of nothing else.' 
 
 ' So you stay here till June ?' said Madame 
 Marriotti, regarding with affection the face of her 
 friend, which had become saddened as she spoke 
 of mental change. 
 
 ' Till June. I suppose the heat will drive me 
 out then.' 
 
 ' Oh, I suppose so ; as for me, as often as not 
 I stay here all the year round, instead of going 
 to my villa at Florence. I did spend one summer 
 up in the hills, but we got nothing to eat. Well, 
 I shall consider about this child — what is her 
 name ?' 
 
 ' Irene Moore.' 
 
 ' Mura ? — what is it ? Irene — Irene Mori.'
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 "Whither are you bound ? 
 To the palace, an it like your worship. 
 
 Winter's Tale. 
 
 THE lodgings that Mrs. Dalzell had taken were 
 on the second floor in an old palace near the 
 Tiber. One common staircase led to corridors 
 with open arcades, looking into a great quadrangle; 
 each story had its corridor, or loggia, to use the 
 Italian word, except the highest, which was 
 tenanted by very poor families, or by artists, to 
 whom abundance of light was essential. About 
 eighteen doors on each floor opened into the cor- 
 ridor, and ascend or descend when you would, a 
 face you had never noticed before was sure to be 
 seen. The palace resembled a large hive of bees, 
 with storehouses underground or in the lowest 
 floor, where no one lived, and magazines of wine 
 and wood were kept ; and, as in other hives, there 
 were working bees and drones. On the first floor 
 dwelt rich and titled families, on the inezzanini 
 professors and teachers ; a staircase higher came 
 untitled people ; and higher still the artists and 
 the poor, amongst whom might perhaps be counted 
 a poet, who seemed of a joyous temperament, and, 
 whenever he could afford it, gave a supper to his 
 friends ; and rumours of & reunion of nineteen other 
 poets, whose songs and shouts were heard late into 
 the night, more than once afforded matter for
 
 60 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 speculation and amusement to the other inhabitants 
 of the palace. It belonged to a noble and very- 
 poor family, who, reserving two floors for them- 
 selves in a smaller inner quadrangle, let all the 
 rest, and contrived to live on the small portion of 
 rent which was not swallowed up by mortgages 
 and debts. Mrs. Dalzell had found her way into 
 this un-English quarter under the guidance of 
 Madame Marriotti, and she had far more enjoy- 
 ment in the novelty, and even the occasional dis- 
 comforts, than she could have derived from the 
 luxuries of the hotels or lodgings in the streets 
 frequented by her compatriots, where often more 
 English than Italian is to be heard, and all is 
 adapted to English tastes. 
 
 The palace looked stately by day, but its aspect 
 gained indescribably by night, when the moon 
 gleamed on the white fronts of the arcades and 
 threw the corridors within into profound shade, in 
 which mysterious staircases yawned blacker still, 
 leading up and down into unknown regions, and 
 lights glimmered here and there from windows 
 grated like those of a prison. As soon as the 
 reign of night began, ghostly noises too were 
 heard — sounds, like heavy blows or distant cannon- 
 ading, re-echoed through the quadrangle, and the 
 fountain lifted up a voice nearly inaudible by 
 day, and murmured plaintively, doubtless telling 
 of the Anio, from whence its waters came, and of 
 the ancient aqueduct along which they had travelled 
 many a mile. By daylight all the awe and mystery 
 disappeared, and the palace, though always stately, 
 looked cheerful, like a place inhabited by modern, 
 every-day people — a place, moreover, where they 
 might desire to live, when it was seen flooded by
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 61 
 
 sunshine, with white-winged terns wheeling in 
 the blue air above the quadrangle. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell had come abroad with maid and 
 courier ; but before she had been a week at Eome, 
 her maid had become so disconsolate in this land, 
 where she could neither understand nor make 
 herself understood, that her mistress was glad to 
 send her home and manage without her. The 
 landlady, Signora, or, as foreigners usually called 
 her, Madama, Cecchi, spoke enough French to 
 make it a medium of conversation ; and when Mrs. 
 Dalzell returned to her lodgings she was admitted 
 by her in person, the padrona having ascertained 
 from a little grated window that it was her lodger 
 who rang. It would not have been easy to find a 
 handsomer specimen of a Soman of the middle 
 class than was this Madama Cecchi, who looked as 
 stately as any duchess as she stood at the door, 
 her black silk dress draping her full and rounded 
 form, her hair rolled back from her brow, and partly 
 shaded by a black lace lappet fastened with gold 
 pins ; little enamel and pearl ear-rings in her ears 
 and a mosaic brooch to fasten her lace collar. 
 This was her every-day dress ; had she been in full 
 costume, she would probably have worn white, or 
 pale colours, and a gown of some thin material, far 
 less becoming to her, for Roman beauty requires 
 the deep lines and abundant drapery which, happilv, 
 the common people, at least, delight in. Few high- 
 born dames in England could have equalled the 
 natural and stately grace with which she received 
 her lodger, whom she had not seen before that 
 day, and the readiness to hear the something, which 
 Mrs. Dalzell announced she had to say, was ex- 
 pressed in courteous phrases untranslatable, be-
 
 62 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 cause in any language but their own they would 
 have sounded unnatural. 
 
 She preceded Mrs. Dalzell into the anteroom, 
 which had a brick floor and a pile of firewood in 
 one corner ; the apartment was by no means 
 splendid, but when, lifting the curtain that hung 
 over the door, they entered the salotto or sitting- 
 room, the sunshine which literally bathed the whole 
 room and called out all the colours on the arched 
 and painted ceiling, sufficiently indicated why 
 Madame Marriotti had recommended it. Sunshine 
 is one of the luxuries for which people come to 
 Rome, and though the winter had been a cold 
 one, Mrs. Dalzell had never yet found it necessary 
 to have a fire in the little open stove until evening. 
 A nosegay of camellias, fringed with the maidenhair 
 fern that grows on every fountain, stood on a round 
 table ; another table with a marble top stood in 
 a window which admitted the morning sunshine ; 
 a third, also bearing a heavy slab of marble, and 
 too high to be used except as a sideboard, was 
 placed between the two other windows looking 
 towards the west ; besides books, it bore two vases 
 of artificial flowers, with a stuffed canary bird and 
 several beetles among them to add to their vrai- 
 semblance ; a heavy clock, highly gilt, was placed 
 in the centre. It being winter, the floor was 
 covered with coarse green and black drugget, or 
 else it, like that of the anteroom, would have been 
 seen to be of brick. This was the sole sign of win- 
 ter, for there were only thin muslin curtains to the 
 windows ; and the green persiani outside showed 
 that more precautions against heat than celd were 
 necessary. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell sat down, and told the history of
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 63 
 
 her proteges, ending with a proposal to visit the 
 rooms in which she desired to settle them. The 
 prospect of letting them for an indefinite time 
 was welcome to the Roman landlady, who usually 
 could only dispose of them for the season, and she 
 instantly led the way, remarking, however, that 
 she must consult her husband, to the amusement 
 of Mrs. Dalzell, who was aware that the said 
 husband was a very nominal authority : Madama 
 Cecchi was a perfectly despotic, though very good- 
 humoured potentate ; and ' !Xino,' as she called 
 him, submitted unmurmuringly to her decrees. 
 The three rooms proved in every way desirable, 
 except that to reach them from her own apart- 
 ments, Mrs. Dalzell was obliged either to go out 
 into the corridor, or to pass through the kitchen ; 
 but as Madama Cecchi thought this unimportant, 
 Mrs. Dalzell said no more about it. It so hap- 
 pened that she had never been in the little back 
 kitchen before, and she paused to survey the 
 vessels, scanty in number, and of unknown shapes 
 and uses, which stood on the shelves. She smiled 
 and wondered what an English servant would 
 think of the disorder and want of accommodation. 
 All cooking was done at square holes in a kind 
 of brick counter, into which a handful of charcoal 
 was put when wanted ; the consequence of which 
 was, that whenever so much as an extra jug of 
 hot water was required, the charcoal had to be lit, 
 water fetched from the fountain, and much time 
 spent before the demand could be supplied, for 
 charcoal was too dear to be freely used. Among 
 the various utensils Mrs. Dalzell spied out a little 
 lamp, and she said, ' I like these so much that I 
 bought one yesterday, but it would not burn last
 
 64 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 night, and I forgot to tell my courier to examine 
 it.' 
 
 ' "Where is it ? let us make my husband look 
 at it — he is capace di tutto,' said Madama Cecchi ; 
 ' Nino ! Ni ! come here.' 
 
 Nino, or rather Griovanbattista, appeared from 
 another room, bowed to his lodger, and asked 
 what was the matter. He was, like most of the 
 Roman men, a great contrast to the female part 
 of the population, being slender, middle-sized, 
 with taper hands, and not a trace of the muscle 
 and strength which characterize northern nations. 
 Black-haired and black-bearded, he had dark soft 
 eyes, which were at once sad, and arch and subtle, 
 as only Italian eyes can be, and a pleasant tenor 
 voice, much more agreeable than his wife's ; but 
 the sound so exactly like most of those which Mrs. 
 Dalzell heard in the streets, that she was apt con- 
 stantly to look round, fancying that her landlord 
 was beside her. He turned the lamp upside down, 
 examined it, and inquired if the signora had blown 
 into it when she bought it. On hearing that this 
 precaution had not occurred to her, he shook his 
 head, and evidently thought its defects were no 
 more than she deserved, but at once gave his most 
 serious attention to remedying them. Just then 
 a crash as of falling plates was heard somewhere 
 near: Madama Cecchi hurried off with exclamations 
 of despair, and directly afterwards, her voice and 
 the maid's were heard uplifted to a most amazing 
 pitch ; then a sound was heard, as if the girl had 
 received a box on the ear, after which Madama 
 Cecchi returned, cheerful and smiling as before, 
 and not in the least ruffled by what had occurred. 
 Mrs. Dalzell made some remark on the cause of
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 65 
 
 the clatter, and the padrona replied, ' Oh dear, 
 dear, dear, dear! it is this benedetta Jlgliuola, 
 Filomena, who makes me desperate ;' but the de- 
 spair did not seem to go very deep, nor the of- 
 fending Filomena to be very repentant, for im- 
 mediately after, she came by, looking just as rosy 
 and merry as usual. 
 
 The prospect of a new habitation was very welcome 
 to the three whom it chiefly concerned, especially 
 to Yincenzo, who in spite of his carving was fast 
 again becoming a prey to melancholy and languor. 
 He had no friends to enliven him with visits ; 
 Nanna was more of a torment than any- 
 thing else ; and dearly as he loved Irene, a girl's 
 society could not make up to him for what he had 
 lost. Any change was welcome to him ; the new 
 project was thorough refreshment; the preparations 
 for departure positively delightful ; he did not even 
 shrink from the notion of being conveyed over 
 the rough streets, which the others dreaded much 
 for him, and only considered possible, when fully 
 sanctioned by his surgeon. The transit proved less 
 painful thanthey had expected; but all were thankful 
 when he had been safely conveyed up the long stair- 
 cases, carried by Cecchi and Mrs. Dalzell's courier, 
 and laid on the sofa in the sunny sitting-room, which 
 was now to be his own. Irene was almost too 
 happy, between hearing that she was to be 
 Madame Marriotti's pupil, and finding herself 
 mistress of a little room which seemed palatial 
 luxury to her. Her felicity was beyond expres- 
 sion, when she found that a piano had been hired 
 for her, and was placed in the sitting-room ; and 
 she flew about, showing everything to Nanna, 
 darting back to Yincenzo for additional sympathy, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 springing to the side of Mrs. Dalzell with a new 
 burst of gratitude, and making acquaintance with 
 the padrona, whose heart was speedily won by 
 her frank delight, and all whose sympathies were 
 enlisted for the invalid boy, as he lay with smiling, 
 grateful looks, too weary to answer his sister's 
 transports, and only wishing to lie still and watch 
 the various arrangements which kept all the others 
 fully employed. They had brought a few articles 
 of furniture with them to add to that already in 
 the rooms, where there was not much space to 
 spare ; and Nino, his wife, Nanna, Mrs. Dalzell, and 
 Irene, were still in full conclave when the clock 
 announced, in that Italian fashion so mysterious 
 to foreigners, that the hour of five had come. At 
 the same time, the bell rang, Filomena opened the 
 door and admitted a boy, with two tin chests on 
 his head, each containing a pan of charcoal and a 
 dinner. This broke off all discussion. Mrs. 
 Dalzell left Nanna to see about one, and retired to 
 her own sitting-room to eat the other, not without 
 a compliment from both landlord and landlady 
 on her looking so well that afternoon. It was 
 deserved ; Mrs. Dalzell felt more occupied, more 
 happy, than she had done for many months. Till 
 this time, do what she would, all the beauty, all 
 the associations of Italy, had, at the most, only 
 filled her mind ; while at heart there was always 
 the aching of a grief for which she found no cure. 
 Strange ! this one little good deed had done what 
 neither Art nor Nature could effect ; it had lulled the 
 pain to rest, for a time, at all events ; and as she 
 sat alone that evening, willing to let Vincenzo 
 rest, after a day very exciting and fatiguing to 
 him ; although her book remained unread, and her
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 67 
 
 work lay idly upon her lap, it was not now because 
 her thoughts had wandered and her eyes were dim 
 with tears. She thought anxiously, yet hopefully, 
 of Irene, and with a still tenderer feeling of the 
 invalid Yincenzo, whose grateful and cheerful 
 looks that day had keenly reminded her of another 
 invalid, very dear to her, whom she had once 
 tended and watched over as only a mother can 
 watch over her sole treasure. More than once 
 she had found the name of Arthur rising to her 
 lips instead of that of Yincenzo, who, hencefor- 
 ward, must be dear to her, for the sake of that 
 dead son, as well as for his own. It was much to 
 have rescued this brother and sister from desti- 
 tution ; it was like an answer to the question that 
 had often forced itself upon her — What the future 
 could have for her to do ? Through these orphans 
 it might yet have an interest. She thought of 
 what it might bring them, far more anxiously than 
 they did — one dreaming on her pillow, with lips 
 parted into a smile, and a rosy flush on her cheek 
 — the other, awake, and taking courage from the 
 thought, that though his own faith had failed, the 
 promise their dying father had trusted in had 
 stood firm, bidding himself remember that on 
 the ruin of his own hopes had risen new ones for 
 Irene, and thinking, with deep gratitude, of her 
 who had rescued them from actual starvation. 
 Surely, with these two near her, Mrs. Dalzell 
 could not help feeling satisfied and cheered. 
 
 Thus it gradually came to pass that, while she 
 visited the sights of Borne, entered occasionally 
 into society, and was always ready to take part 
 in any scheme proposed by her friends, these two 
 orphans became Mrs. Dalzell's chief thought. 
 
 f2
 
 68 MADEMOISELLE MORL 
 
 9 
 
 They interested her not only for their own sakes, 
 but as specimens of Italians — a race unknown to 
 her ; and Italians, rather than English, they cer- 
 tainly were, though Vincenzo betrayed the English 
 part of his parentage at times, by a certain reserve 
 and steadfastness, joined, however, to much Italian 
 enthusiasm : but Irene, with the soft and brilliant 
 dark eyes of her Sora mother, had inherited a 
 southern grace, an instinctive courtesy, a fire 
 and impetuosity, that never came from England. 
 Pretty she was not ; she had inherited none of 
 the beauty for which the women of Sora are cele- 
 brated, and with which her mother had been pre- 
 eminently endowed; yet her slight figure, and the 
 open brow whence dark shining hair was braided 
 back, the marked and expressive eyebrows, and 
 the lovely eyes, made hers a poetical face ; and the 
 instant changes at word or look, from the serious 
 and pensive expression usual to it when at rest, 
 to archness and mirth, had a charm so bewitch- 
 ing that many beautiful women would have 
 been far less attractive than Irene. In her, 
 there was none of the abrupt English honesty, 
 so repulsive to Italians. To be charmingly 
 courteous was her nature, but she was no less 
 true than Yincenzo ; as Mrs. Dalzell, in time, 
 discovered, after being a little mistrustful of what 
 she had heard her countrymen assert in other 
 cases to be insincerity — sometimes justly, some- 
 times much otherwise ; but Italian faults and vir- 
 tues are almost equally perplexing to English people, 
 and so are those of the English to Italians. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell had expected to find Irene the 
 best possible guide to Borne, especially as both 
 brother and sister were proud of their birthplace,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 69 
 
 and spoke of ' Soma mia'' and l i miei Soman* 1 
 with pride worthy of an ancient senator ; but, 
 to her surprise, Irene knew nothing about it. 
 Vincenzo too read a book about Eome Pagan 
 and Eome Christian, and their historical associa- 
 tions, with the delight of a blind man when 
 enabled to see. It was the first book that awoke 
 any lively interest in him ; he seemed to have 
 found a glorious new world, and Mrs. Dalzell 
 often could not resist a smile as she heard him 
 telling Irene, with the utmost enthusiasm, of 
 some fact trite to all the rest of the world. On 
 questioning Irene, it appeared that she had seen 
 hardly any of the great sights which attract tra- 
 vellers from every land. She had, now and then, 
 gone to the Colosseum, with her mother or JSTanna, 
 to pray at the stations ; she had been sometimes 
 at the Vatican, because every one goes there on 
 the public day at Easter, and Vincenzo was fond of 
 visiting it ; and that seemed to be the extent of her 
 acquaintance with the ruins and galleries. Mrs. 
 Dalzell could hardly believe that she heard aright, 
 and asked if Eoman girls never went to see sights. 
 Irene said they hardly ever did ; they sometimes 
 went to shops, or on the Pincio, or in the Corso, 
 with their mothers, or paid a morning visit, but 
 not often to see sights ; and she could not under- 
 stand the notion of walking for exercise sake, when 
 asked if she were not accustomed to do so. ' Papa 
 liked walking ; but then, he was English. When 
 he was alive, he often took her and Vincenzo to 
 the Villa Pamphili Doria, or the Villa Borghese, 
 on festas.' 
 
 ' Have you never seen any of the ceremonies in 
 St. Peter's ? Xever been there at Easter ?'
 
 70 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Oh ! no. Romans hardly ever do go ; there is 
 such a crowd — people behave so ill, and push so. 
 The foreigners say, " We must see these things, 
 because we have come from the ends of the earth 
 to do so, and you Romans can see them when you 
 will ; " but then they come and come every year, 
 and do not cease, and thus we see nothing.' 
 
 ' Besides, as for Easter day, every Romanist is 
 obliged to hear mass in his parish church, unless 
 the priest gives him express leave to go some- 
 where else,' added Yincenzo. ' The rules are very 
 strict ; you receive a certificate to show that you 
 were there, and some days after the priest comes to 
 each house for it, and you would get into terrible 
 disgrace if you could not produce it ; your name 
 publicly posted up in the church, and a great up- 
 roar made, and it would be remembered against 
 you to a certainty if you wanted anything done 
 for you. All power here is in the priests' hands." 
 
 ' I always fancy there is a strange contempt, 
 mixed with fear, in Signor Cecchi's manner, when 
 the priests are alluded to,' said Mrs. Dalzell ; ' and 
 his wife once privately begged me never to name 
 politics before him, it excited him so.' 
 
 'She is imprudent enough herself; but she knows 
 she is safe with us. If half what I have heard her 
 say were repeated, she would see the inside of 
 a prison speedily.' 
 
 ' Not really, Yincenzo ? ' 
 
 1 Really, Mrs. Dalzell ; a careless word is enough 
 to send a man to Spoleto for life.' 
 
 The English lady thought this must be strange 
 exaggeration; but Yincenzo did not seem at all 
 inclined to pursue the subject, so she turned to 
 another.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 71 
 
 1 There is one ceremony that I mean to see and 
 take Irene to this year ; she ought to hear Gu- 
 glielmi's Pastorale ; what do you say, Vincenzo ?" 
 
 'I would go if I could,' he answered, 'just to 
 see St. Peter's by night ; but as for the music I 
 don't care for that kind. I declare ' — and herein 
 he spoke the feelings of many of his fellow-citizens 
 — ' when I hear it I am ready to stop my ears and 
 run out of the church.' 
 
 ' I hope Madame Marriott! will teach Irene 
 better,' said Mrs. Dalzell, smiling. ' How did the 
 lesson go to-day r' 
 
 'Oh, pretty well/ said Irene, with a blush ; 'I 
 am afraid we both got out of patience ; but at last 
 she said I was improving.' 
 
 Indeed, teacher and pupil had both such im- 
 patient tempers, that Mrs. Dalzell had feared the 
 alliance would speedily break up ; but Madame 
 Marriotti in her heart was very glad of this new 
 interest, and fast becoming extremely proud of her 
 pupil. She required entire devotion to music, with 
 the most watchful and exciting jealousy, and Irene 
 was ready to give it. Love for her art gave her 
 fervour which took the place of perseverance, and 
 she became so absorbed in it, that Vincenzo silently 
 felt, or more truly, fancied, that he had grown a 
 secondary object with her. Mrs. Dalzell's society, 
 visits from such of her friends as desired to pur- 
 chase his carvings, and the new delight of reading, 
 kept, however, this feeling in the background ; 
 and Irene, radiant with hope and energy, looked 
 scarcely happier than did Vincenzo, lying on his 
 couch, with a table drawn up to it, with books and a 
 handful of wild flowers upon it, or a basket of fruit, 
 destined to be copied in lime or pear wood. Mrs.
 
 72 MADEMOISELLE MOKI. 
 
 Dalzell sometimes wondered whether he had quite 
 realized that his destiny was to be an invalid for 
 life. Nothing could change that fiat ; they must 
 never hope to see him walk again, except with 
 crutches.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Quern vidistis, pastores, dicite; annunciate nobis, in terris 
 
 quis apparuit; 
 Xatuni vidimus, et choros angelorum collaudantes Dominum. 
 
 Office of the Pastorale. 
 
 THE idea of going to hear the Pastorale did not 
 fall to the ground ; it was one of the few 
 ceremonies which Mrs. Dalzell could witness, with- 
 out failing to attend the services of her own 
 church, and she had particularly wished to see it. 
 To go with a large party was the last thing she 
 desired, and she named her intentions to none but 
 Madame Marriotti, who had first inspired her with 
 the wish, and now, much to Mrs. Dalzell's sur- 
 prise, immediately declared that she should like, of 
 all things, to go too. An expedition at three o'clock 
 a.m., was such a singular freak for so frail a 
 creature, that Mrs. Dalzell would hardly consent, 
 though she acknowledged that her pleasure in 
 music was always doubled when Madame Marriotti 
 was by to comment on it ; and the little old lady 
 was as wilful as any spoiled child, and got her 
 way. Accordingly, on Christmas eve, instead of 
 going to bed, Irene came to Mrs. Dalzell's sitting- 
 room, where she found her friend lying on the 
 sofa, resting till the hour to set out should arrive. 
 Resisting an invitation to share the couch, Irene, 
 with her dog, which, as usual, had followed her, 
 sat down on the floor before an open stove, where
 
 74 MADEMOISELLE MOM. 
 
 a wood fire burned brightly. Irene occupied her- 
 self with reading the music which was to be her 
 next lesson, and Mrs. Dalzell, between sleep and 
 waking, opened her eyes sometimes, and looked at 
 the slight figure and bending profile of the young 
 girl, on which the fire-light gleamed. She was 
 absorbed in her task ; one hand, unconsciously, 
 beat time on the back of her dog ; her brow was 
 sometimes knit, as she looked with austerity at 
 some difficult passage, and then expanded as she 
 mastered it, and smiled and lifted her eyes, as if 
 to those of some imaginary auditor. Now and 
 then, still murmuring half inaudible notes, she 
 added a piece of wood from the tall basket which 
 stood by the stove, or moved the coffee-pot on its 
 iron tripod into a hotter position ; while the dog 
 looked on with great interest, or directed an 
 intelligent glance towards the cups and saucers on 
 the table, as much as to say that if they really 
 intended to have a meal at this extraordinary hour, 
 it was advisable to lose no more time. A ring at 
 the outer door announced Madame Marriotti ; 
 Irene sprang up, and went to let her in, dis- 
 encumbering her of a multitude of wraps ; while 
 the old lady diminishing momentarily in size, as 
 she was released first from one, then another, was 
 at last reduced to dimensions fit for a fairy god- 
 mother, for which she might very well have passed. 
 She was in a fidget about this unusual expedition, 
 and at first rejected vehemently the coffee which 
 Irene poured out for her ; but ended by drinking 
 it, in an absent, unconscious way, while Mrs. Dal- 
 zell sought her bonnet and cloak. Irene looked 
 very mirthful and mischievous, and moved so 
 noiselessly, and spoke so low, that Madame Mar-
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 75 
 
 riotti's nerves were speedily irritated by this 
 mysterious conduct, and she demanded, sharply, 
 what was the matter with her. 
 
 ' Only I feel as if we were plotting something 
 very wonderful and secret. We are the only 
 people awake in the palace ; we are going out 
 directly without their knowing it ; it is a secret 
 expedition, and we are conspirators.' 
 
 ' Xonsense, child ; don't talk of conspirators, I 
 beg; we had enough of that in '31 ; how can 
 you be so silly ?' asked Madame Marriotti, un- 
 easily. 
 
 ' Oh, I think a conspiracy must be so interest- 
 ing !' answered Irene, gaily, too young to remember 
 much about the troubles that had hailed the elec- 
 tion of the reigning Pope, Gregory XVI. 
 
 ' Heaven help the child ! she may live to know 
 more about it,' muttered the old lady, who, though 
 she chose to lead a somewhat secluded life, knew 
 ntost things, public or secret, that went on in 
 Eome, and was well aware of the storms that 
 were gathering there. ' Mrs. Dalzell, are you 
 ready ? Do let us go, if we are going, and have 
 done with it. Where are you running off to now, 
 child ?' 
 
 ' Only to take Tevere back, and see if Yincenzo 
 is asleep,' answered Irene, running away, with a 
 little lamp in her hand, through the empty kitchen. 
 The Cecchi had gone to the funzione at San 
 Luigi, and had not yet returned ; the rooms were 
 still as death, and she speedily re-appeared, a little 
 excited and awed by the silence and darkness. 
 Madame Marriotti, still looking ruffled, was wrap- 
 ping herself slowly up again, an operation sud- 
 denly delayed by the loss of a glove. Irene
 
 76 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 and Mrs. Dalzell looked for it in vain ; Madame 
 Marriotti fumed and fidgeted. At last, Irene 
 emerged from under a table, holding up some- 
 thing dark, a single kid finger. ■ I am afraid,' said 
 she, half stifled by suppressed laughter, ' that 
 Tevere must have eaten the rest I' 
 
 1 Tevere !' exclaimed Madame Marriotti, nearly 
 speechless ; ' my glove !' 
 
 ' Poor dog, he will certainly be ill/ said Mrs. 
 Dalzell, anxiously. ' How did he seem, Irene ?' 
 
 ' I don't think it has disagreed with him, though 
 I am sadly afraid he ate the button too,' replied 
 Irene, half suffocated with amusement at the cata- 
 strophe, and the indignation of her bereaved friend. 
 
 ' I hope it will, I hope it will. The ill-mannered, 
 inconsiderate beast,' exclaimed Madame Marriotti. 
 ' Of course I shall catch cold, I must make up my 
 mind to that; so we had better go at once. Such 
 nonsense as it all is !' She hurried towards the 
 door, nearly falling over Mrs. Dalzell' s courier, 
 who was coming to announce the carriage. Both 
 Irene and Mrs. Dalzell were quite aware that this 
 irritation only meant, that the unwonted expedition 
 had strung their friend's excitable nerves a little too 
 highly ; so they were not in the least disturbed by 
 it, but settled themselves speedily in their corners 
 of the carriage, which had thundered into the 
 quadrangle, and now thundered out again in a 
 way likely to discompose all the sleepers in the 
 palace, and auguring ill for the secresy of Irene's ex- 
 pedition. Till within an hour or two there had been 
 an incessant hum of voices ar I roll of carriages 
 in the streets : all Rome was abroad, hastening 
 to and from the midnight mass at various churches ; 
 but now all was still ; only a few men or women
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 77 
 
 were seen in the dark deserted streets ; and the 
 occasional ringing of bells from some church was 
 almost the only sound. The Tiber glided below 
 the bridge, swift, silent, and tawny in the moon- 
 light ; not a living creature was visible about St. 
 Angelo, which rose massive and desolate, as if 
 once more a tomb ; and the Archangel on its sum- 
 mit looked like some indistinct and threatening 
 form descended from the gloomy sky above. The 
 piazza of St. Peter stretched out in an extent of 
 space which the eye could hardly compass, and the 
 large semicircular colonnades appeared to expand 
 themselves, as though to embrace a world. Lamps 
 were hung here and there against their columns, 
 marking out their circuit in the darkness ; lights 
 shone in the belfry, where a deep-toned bell was 
 ringing ; the fountains lifted up their silver jets, 
 and in front rose the basilica, dark, enormous, and 
 appearing to retreat before the advancing visitor. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell and Irene united their strength to 
 lift the ponderous curtain, or rather mat, which 
 hung before the door by which they entered ; 
 Madame Marriotti slipped in, they followed, and at 
 once found themselves in a world of shadow so 
 vast, so strange, that they stood still involuntarily 
 to gaze. Between every arch stood one tall 
 lighted taper, and under the cupola, the crowd of 
 ever-burning lamps around the tomb of St. Peter 
 shone out, clear and pale, like a garland of stars. 
 Xot a flame but burned up motionless in the still, 
 perfumed atmosphere, but on all sides was gloom 
 and silence, and the cupola seemed to rise up and 
 vanish, as if it contained a whole sky filled with soft 
 darkness, like that of a moonless night in summer. 
 Pew were present at this hour of the night, and
 
 78 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 in the area which no man has ever beheld full, 
 even when the jubilee attracts multitudes from 
 every land, the units present on this Christmas 
 eve were scarcely perceptible. Now and then some 
 one crossed the nave ; three or four knelt amid the 
 circle of light at the Apostle's tomb; and a woman 
 was bowed before his statue, immovable as the 
 brouze figure above her. All the colour, the splen- 
 dour, the ornament, all that delights or displeases 
 the eye by day, was now blended together ; and 
 doubtless it was this abseuce of striking detail 
 that gave the impression of boundless space in the 
 building, which by day seems in comparison small. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell walked slowly up the nave towards 
 the eastern end, where were seats erected for the 
 public functionaries and the ladies who would be 
 present at the great ceremony of the morrow. 
 Mrs. Dalzell took her place here, and sat waiting 
 and expecting the service to begin ; Madame 
 Marriotti had fallen into a reverie, from which a 
 whisper of Irene roused her suddenly. 
 
 ' What did you say ?' she asked quickly in 
 Italian, which she always spoke to her pupil. 
 
 ' I cannot help thinking the service is beginning 
 in the chapel of the choir,' repeated Irene, looking 
 down the basilica to a spot where lights were 
 glittering, reflected in the pavement like moons in 
 a lake. 
 
 ' AYell, are we not there ! Why, where are we ? 
 Mrs. Dalzell, why did you come here ?' 
 
 ' Seeing these seats I really thought the service 
 was here, and I trusted to you.' 
 
 ' Could any one believe such folly ?' exclaimed 
 the old lady, irascibly. ' A baby might have known 
 the Pastorale would be in the chapel of the choir ;
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 79 
 
 now we shall not find a single seat, and I can tell 
 you I can't stand all the time — in such a crowd 
 too — .' While ejaculating this she was hurrying 
 down the aisle ; but when they reached the chapel 
 they found, as she had predicted, every bench filled, 
 and a crowd beginning to collect at the open gates. 
 The chapel blazed with light ; a galaxy of 
 waxen tapers illuminated the altar, and filled the 
 great candelabrum which rose high in a pyramidal 
 form from the pavement, and two immense tapers 
 burnt on either side of a high desk from which a 
 priest would read portions of the service. The 
 monsignori, in their white fur tippets, had already 
 taken their places on the highest row of seats, 
 right and left of the altar ; the singers in the 
 galleries above were turning over their music ; 
 the canons, distinguished by their grey fur mantles, 
 came in from time to time through a side door ; 
 and the schoolboys of St. Peter's, in purple 
 dresses and white cotte or surcoats, bordered with 
 lace, occupied the lowest row of seats, level with the 
 congregation, who, for the most part, appeared to be 
 of the poorer class. Beside the altar sat a bishop, the 
 snow-white mitre on his head, and beside him stood 
 a purple-robed attendant ; priests in gorgeous 
 white and gold dresses officiated in the complicated 
 service, which Mrs. Dalzell vainly tried to follow, 
 though she had what no one else present appeared 
 to possess — a service book. Madame Marriotti had 
 made her way through the crowd with her com- 
 panions, and now stood looking disconsolately at 
 the full benches, without a hope that any one would 
 move for her ; but in a few minutes a young man 
 rose, touching his neighbour, and they gave up 
 their seats to the new comers, who all three con-
 
 80 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 trived to find room, while the two gentlemen retired 
 into the crowd — one, however, standing so that he 
 could still see Irene, who was too much absorbed 
 and impressed by the scene to discover that he 
 scarcely ever removed his eyes from the intent 
 face which she uplifted towards the organ gallery. 
 Looking at her, Mrs. Dalzell perceived how diffe- 
 rently these gorgeous ceremonies affect the northern 
 and southern minds. To herself it was a splendid 
 pageant ; the glitter, the movements of the priests, 
 the unfamiliar tongue, the music of the Pastorale 
 itself, which rose and rolled around the chapel in 
 waves of sound, all seemed to her, ready as she wa3 
 to receive a solemn impression, but parts of a mag- 
 nificently acted scene, that could not be allied in 
 any way to the shepherds watching on the lonely 
 hills of Bethlehem, and the angels' song of peace 
 in the skies ; and she thought with satisfaction of 
 the simple service and the familiar hymn which she 
 should hear on the morrow morning in her own 
 church, even while she acknowledged the grandeur 
 of this night service. But Irene was a true 
 daughter of the south ; all that possessed colour 
 and light, all that appealed to the senses, touched 
 her at once ; and it was quite involuntarily that, 
 with all the Roman Catholics present, she sank on 
 her knees as the music slowly died into a whisper, 
 breathing the words, ' O graciosa Mater.'' All 
 knelt for a few moments with clasped hands and 
 bended heads, and then rose, and after one more 
 magnificent burst of soug, the service was con- 
 cluded. All left the chapel, Mrs. Dalzell still 
 feeling almost as if in a dream ; Madame Marriotti 
 whispering with extreme indignation, ' I suppose 
 you know we have not heard Guglielmi's music
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 81 
 
 after all ? They actually sang Basili's ; I never 
 heard of such a thing ! To come here instead of 
 being in my bed, and hear Basili's music instead 
 of Gruglielmi's. I call it a great deal too bad !' 
 
 As they came into the portico they perceived 
 that a dense fog had come on ; the Vatican loomed 
 dimly through it ; the fountains tossed up plumy 
 spray into the air, grey as the mist with which it 
 mingled — dawn was beginning to break. Madame 
 Marriotti shivered, and Mrs. Dalzell looked anx- 
 iously round for her servant and the carriage. 
 Discovering both in a few minutes, she came back 
 to where her friend was standing, and hurried her 
 towards it, without noticing the absence of Irene, 
 till she was about to step in herself. Asking in 
 haste where she was, Madame Marriotti recol- 
 lected that Irene had said she was going into the 
 basilica again for another look. Mrs. Dalzell was 
 just going back in search of her, when she per- 
 ceived her coming down the steps, escorted by the 
 stranger who had given up his place to them. 
 She sprang into the carriage ; the young man 
 bowed to her and Mrs. Dalzell, and they drove off. 
 Irene was questioned as to what had occurred, but 
 there was not much to tell ; she had wandered up 
 the nave to the tomb and back again, and when 
 she came into the portico, she could not see any 
 carriage, nor any one whom she knew, through the 
 mist. She was looking round when some one 
 came up, and said in Italian that he believed her 
 friends were just getting into their carriage ; and 
 she, recognising the gentleman who had been so 
 courteous in the chapel, was very glad to be es- 
 corted clown the long succession of steps. This 
 was all ; Madame Marriotti had given her two or 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 82 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 three searching looks as she told her story, though 
 the whole affair seemed exceedingly simple to Mrs. 
 Dalzell ; but Irene related it so frankly and simply 
 that the fairy was appeased, volunteered the remark 
 that the singing had certainly been very well done, 
 and bade them quite an affectionate good night, 
 when they set her down at her own door. There 
 was something very attractive about the little old 
 lady after all ; Irene loved her heartily, and had, 
 besides, a child's pleasure in feeling that others 
 were pleased with her : and, when they reached 
 their own abode, she ran gaily upstairs, singing 
 cadences from the music which she had been 
 listening to, and not in the least depressed by the 
 dim, dreary light of the expiring lamps, or the 
 haunted aspect of the old palace.
 
 83 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 Fair Italy ! 
 E'en in thy desert, what is like to thee ? 
 Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste 
 More rich than other climes' fertility. 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 THE Epiphany came near, and the shops became 
 filled with pretty trifles ; for Epiphany is, at 
 Rome, what the New Year is in France ; every one 
 gives presents to every one. Irene was occupied 
 to a degree that a few months before would have 
 seemed intolerable to her : but though engaged in 
 the serious and constant study of music, learning 
 French, reading English with Vincenzo, and Italian 
 with Mrs. Dalzell — nominally for Mrs. Dalzell's 
 instruction — still she found time to knit, in great 
 secresy, a pair of stockings, which were to be a 
 Beffana, or Epiphany gift, for her friend. Every 
 Roman girl learns to knit as soon as her little 
 fingers can hold the needles, and Irene took all 
 possible pains to make her present work a miracle 
 of skill. She did it chiefly in her short but con- 
 stant visits to the sitting-room of her landlady, 
 who, while keeping her own hands warmly round 
 her scaldino, admired Irene's industry, looked at 
 the work she herself had heaped on a table by her, 
 and regretted that she was so much occupied that 
 she never had any time to knit or embroider, or 
 even mend. Sometimes she would sew on two or 
 
 g2
 
 84 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 three of the thread buttons made by the nuns of 
 Viterbo, and much favoured by Romans, or would 
 add a string when it was wanting ; but, in a few 
 minutes, her large soft hands returned to their 
 old position, the work lay forgotten, and Madaina 
 Cecchi had commenced one of the conversations 
 which never ended till she was summoned to the 
 kitchen, or Irene was obliged to go away, always 
 accompanied to the door by the padrona, and ex- 
 changing the customary ' A rivederla.' 
 
 Madama Cecchi was really a very prepossessing 
 person, and Mrs. Dalzell was glad to find that she 
 took a great interest in her young lodgers. She 
 was well pleased and amused when, on wet days, 
 the padrona knocked at her door, begging pardon 
 for intruding, but she wanted the signorina to cheer 
 her with a little visit ; or when she appeared with 
 her fresh, cheerful face in Yincenzo's apartment, 
 to see how he was prospering. As she rarely 
 opened a book, though she had had curiosity enough 
 to read a few prohibited by the Index, was more 
 apt to order embroidery than to make it, very 
 seldom wrote a letter, and had an active servant, 
 Madama Cecchi might have been expected to find 
 time haug rather heavy, especially as her husband 
 was engaged in business and absent all day ; and 
 now that political causes had made their circum- 
 stances unprosperous, she had become, as she 
 expressed it, ' morta al mondo' — dead to the world 
 — and never went into society, except on a Sun- 
 day evening. Her metaphorical death did not, 
 however, prevent constant visits, with her husband, 
 to the theatre — that necessity of a Roman ; but 
 as this only occupied the hours of night, those of 
 the day still remained to be filled up. Mrs.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 85 
 
 Dalzell found it a mystery to the last bow the 
 padrona disposed of them ; but enter her sitting- 
 room when she would in the afternoon, there sat 
 Madama Cecchi, in her arm-chair, her work beside 
 her, occasionally so far advanced as to be pinned 
 to the heavy cushion invariably used at Rome ; 
 a book of prayers near it, a watch in an open 
 case on the table, and her hands nestled round 
 the brown earthenware scaldino, full of charcoal, 
 which, when it became less glowing, she poked 
 with her scissors. Madama Cecchi was meditat- 
 ing, and the subject was tolerably sure to be poli- 
 tics, dress, or the delinquencies of servants. 
 
 At this time politics were becoming the prevail- 
 ing thought in Rome; a liberty of speech and sen- 
 timent, unknown for centuries, was springing up, 
 and would not be crushed ; the moral atmosphere 
 was charged with electricity, and the Romans 
 became more excited with every breath they drew. 
 Madama Cecchi was a thorough Republican ; but 
 though louder in speech than her husband, he 
 more than matched her in vehemence of feeling. 
 They knew what oppression and a bad Govern- 
 ment was from dire experience — that experience 
 which turns an abstract horror of injustice and 
 oppression into intense personal hatred of the 
 oppressors — and the friends who came to their 
 house joined them in whispered schemes and 
 views of reformation, which Pope Gregory would 
 have considered as high treason. He was aware 
 of the feeling abroad, as new and stringent edicts 
 perpetually proved : bat there was already that 
 thrill throughout Rome which precedes great 
 changes — as the quivering of the leaves foretels 
 that a tempest is at hand, though, as yet, the sky
 
 86 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 is clear. The contagion had even reached Vin- 
 cenzo, who looked forward eagerly to evening 
 visits from Signor Cecchi — read Sismondi's Italian 
 Republics with sudden and insatiable interest ; 
 and discoursed enthusiastically with Irene on the 
 future of Italy ; rather to the consternation of 
 Mrs. Dalzell, whose English education had not 
 prepared her to sympathize with these views. 
 Many times she was infinitely diverted by hear- 
 ing a political conversation between Irene and 
 Madama Cecchi, whose Italian she was beginning 
 to understand, suddenly break off, as the latter 
 recollected some misdeed of Eilomena's — that 
 most trustworthy of servants, but a ' donna rna- 
 teriale,' with no genius, no invention! and then 
 would come a history, told with expressive pan- 
 tomime, of former servants ; one whom she had 
 trusted entirely, and who robbed her, and turned 
 out a scelerata; and another whom she could not 
 endure, because, though she was honest, indeed, 
 and never had done anything infamous, she was 
 without heart and without sentiment ; and then 
 would come the darling subject of dress, which 
 she had thoroughly studied, and in which, com- 
 paratively poor as she was, she spent much more 
 money than ever did Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 Being very much gratified by her English te- 
 nant's interest in Roman manners and customs, 
 Madama Cecchi had proposed to take Mrs. Dalzell, 
 on the eve of the Epiphany, to see the market of 
 St. Eustachio, near the Pantheon, lighted up at 
 night. It is the custom of the Romans to go 
 there at a late hour ; no buying or selling goes on, 
 but there is a constant going and coming — a turn- 
 ing of night into day — a festa, in short. As it
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 87 
 
 happened, heavy rain prevented the expedition ; 
 but Irene consoled herself by finishing the stock- 
 ings, and watching the progress of the heffana 
 which Vincenzo was making — a carving of pome- 
 granates, fir cones, and other fruits, which he had 
 copied from some brought in one day, by Irene, 
 from a fruit-stall in a neighbouring piazza. 
 
 "When Mrs. Dalzell came into their sitting-room 
 the next day, Madama Cecchi followed, to offer a 
 bouquet and witness the presentation of the two 
 other gifts, in which she had taken a lively inter- 
 est, greatly enjoying the mystery about them. Yin- 
 cenzo' s was first given, and Mrs. Dalzell was much 
 pleased ; it had never occurred to her that this 
 carving, with which she knew he had taken extra 
 pains, was for herself. She particularly admired 
 the fruit of the stone pine. 
 
 ' I often see them on the fruit-stalls,' she said ; 
 1 where do they come from, and what are they 
 used for ? Surely there are not enough about Eome 
 to furnish all the shops ?' 
 
 1 No, they come from Ravenna ; there are whole 
 woods of them there ; we spent one summer at 
 Ravenna, and used to sit all day long in the 
 woods/ 
 
 1 And the gnats !' said Irene, ' I could not en- 
 joy it, because they bit so ; but Yincenzo was 
 bewitched by those gloomy old woods, and he 
 never minded their biting. I thought the woods 
 as dismal as the Pantheon.' 
 
 1 But nobody eats the cones, do they ?' asked 
 Mrs. Dalzell, half in jest, which, being repeated to 
 Madama Cecchi in Italian, sent her into a hearty 
 fit of laughter. 
 
 ' No, no one eats them,' answered Yincenzo, also
 
 88 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 laughing ; ' we put them before the fire, and then 
 they open and the seeds come out : you have tasted 
 them in sausages, surely ? — like little almonds.' 
 
 Impatient signs from the padrona to Irene 
 now caused her to produce the stockings. 
 
 ' I hope you will like them,' she said, offering 
 them rather doubtfully, to Mrs. Dalzell. ' I never 
 noticed, till lately, that you always wore silk, and 
 there was nothing else that I could make.' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear child, I like them very much in- 
 deed. Do you really mean that you knitted them ? 
 It is more than ever I could learn to do, though 
 an old friend tried hard to teach me.' 
 
 1 Oh yes, I made them,' replied Irene, quite 
 restored to her usual gaiety ; 'and I liked making 
 them since they were for you.' 
 
 ' Calze sono nojose a tricotare, accommodare, 
 lavare, piegare, e re/are,' observed Madama Cecchi, 
 with a laugh. Mrs. Dalzell looked an inquiry, 
 and Yincenzo added, ' It is a Roman proverb ; we 
 say that stockings are tiresome in every way — to 
 knit, to fit, to wash, to fold, to mend.' 
 
 1 Then I owe Irene all the more thanks. Now, 
 as I did not know of this custom, of course I have 
 no heffana for anybody, so you must tell me what 
 I shall give you, without compliment, as you say 
 here, Yincenzo.' 
 
 He looked pleased, and replied, after some re- 
 flection, ' I should like very much to have an en- 
 graving of G-uido's St. Michael — the one in the 
 Capuchin Church, you know. I think I could 
 copy it as a carving.' 
 
 ' And Irene ?' 
 
 1 A box of English pins, if you please,' was the 
 eager reply.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 89 
 
 ' English pins, my dear ? are they curiosities ? 
 I think they are very like Italian ones.' 
 
 ' Oh no, indeed, they are much better. Papa 
 once gave mamma some, and she only used them 
 onfeste. We cannot buy them here.' She turned 
 to Madama Cecchi for confirmation. 
 
 ' No, in truth ; an English lady, who once 
 lodged with me, made me a present of some, and, 
 though it is said to bring ill luck to take pins, I 
 could not refuse ; I will make you see them,' and 
 she hastened away, and returned with a dozen 
 white pins in a box, and an Italian one to com- 
 pare with them. The superiority of the English 
 article was manifest, and she whispered, mysteri- 
 ously, that there was a shop in Borne where Eng- 
 lish pins could be bought ; great ladies could obtain 
 them ; but it must not be talked about, since pin- 
 makiug was a monopoly in the hands of one person, 
 and fine and imprisonment were the penalties for 
 importing the article. 
 
 ' Instead of offering madama a beffana, I am 
 going to ask her to do me a favour,' said Mrs. 
 Dalzell, in the best Italian she could muster. An 
 attempt on her part to speak Italian was regarded 
 by the padrona as a personal compliment, and, with 
 a deep curtsy, she replied, ' Too much honour ! s 
 
 ' I want —Irene, you must translate this — I 
 want madama and her husband to go with you 
 and me to the theatre.' 
 
 Instead of translating, Irene, in the effusion of 
 her gratitude, threw her arms round Mrs. Dalzell's 
 neck. 
 
 1 And tell her she must choose the play and the 
 theatre.' 
 
 Something of a sigh escaped Yincenzo ; he took
 
 90 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 up a book, and seemed not to hear the gratified 
 thanks of Madama Cecchi and the delight of Irene. 
 All classes and all ages go to the theatre at 
 Rome. There is the Teatro Regio for the upper 
 class ; for the lower the Capranica, where comedies 
 are acted in the local dialect, and laughter and 
 applause thunder through the house, till any one 
 but a Roman would be ready to stop his ears and 
 rush frantically out, and several others chiefly fre- 
 quented by the mezzo ceto. There is little reading 
 among Romans, especially among the Roman wo- 
 men ; and as for the girls, story books are non-ex- 
 istent, and romances can only be read by stealth ; 
 but their lively intelligent minds must have some 
 food, and mothers who would hardly let their 
 daughters read Paul and Virginia, do not hesitate 
 to take them to the theatre, where they learn at 
 least all that romances could teach them. The stage 
 stands in the place of light literature. Moreover, 
 the theatre is a place, in which to see and to be seen, 
 better far than in the drive in the Corso or on the 
 Pincio ; for in the theatre people sit still, looks — 
 possibly signals, too — can be exchanged, and many 
 a marriage has been thus made. A fair face 
 strikes the eye of some one ; he looks again and 
 again, and goes home determined to marry the owner. 
 If he be of an ingenuous disposition he tells his 
 parents, and entreats them to obtain the damsel 
 for him ; then come inquiries concerning dowry, 
 introductions, negociations ; or else, rejecting this 
 course, he takes other mean? of communicating 
 with the lady of his heart, and in spite of vigi- 
 lance, almost Oriental, on the part of relations, 
 a romance often begins, and ends — as the fates 
 choose. Mrs. Dalzell knew nothing of all this :
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 91 
 
 she only supposed that she was giving Irene 
 pleasure, and gratifying her courteous landlord 
 and his wife ; she would have been incredulous, 
 indeed, had any one told her that one visit to 
 the Teatro Yalle might influence Irene's whole 
 destiny. 
 
 Madama Cecchi selected the Sonnamhula as the 
 opera, and the Yalle as the theatre, and the first 
 evening that she could get a box Mrs. Dalzell 
 ordered her carriage, and took the party there ; 
 Irene dressed in white, Madama Cecchi magni- 
 ficent in blue silk and an ermine mantle. She 
 looked discomforted by Mrs. Dalzell' s plain black 
 attire, but was too polite to make any remark. 
 Yincenzo had to be left with no better companion 
 than old Xanna, and Irene was half unwilling to 
 leave him ; but he cut her caressing words short 
 with an abruptness that drove away her smiles 
 for some time. Mrs. Dalzell made no observation ; 
 but as she bade him good night, there was some- 
 thing so kind and compassionate in her tone that he 
 felt that she had divined his feelings, and did not 
 attempt to conceal his heavy sigh. As he heard 
 the carriage roll away, he laid down his book and 
 sank back on his couch, with pale, dispirited looks, 
 and fell into so deep a reverie that he heard no- 
 thing of iSanna's chattering. She did not find it 
 out, and went on enjoying the sound of her own 
 voice till he raised himself, asked her cheerfully to 
 fetch his coffee, and took up a copy of manuscript 
 verses which Cecchi had brought in for him to 
 read, with an emphatic warning not to let it lie 
 about. Yincenzo had seen several by the same 
 hand before, and marvelled (as, indeed, all Rome 
 were doing) who the daring poet could be who
 
 92 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 lashed the corruptions of Church and State with 
 such stinging satire. His works were every- 
 where read by stealth and in manuscript, but his 
 name remained a profound secret, even to the 
 Argus-eyed police, as was proved by fresh verses 
 continually appearing. These last were in a new 
 strain, so tender and graceful that the writer must 
 have been something far more than a mere satirist. 
 Vincenzo owed him something, for they took him 
 out of himself, and he entirely forgot the bitter 
 despondency that had overwhelmed him an hour 
 before, as he read and re-read the little poem, 
 and speculated what and who the author could be, 
 and whether Cecchi knew, a matter about which 
 Vincenzo had never been able to satisfy himself. 
 
 The boxes on the second tier at the Yalle are 
 capable of holding six people, of whom two can 
 see well. Mrs. Dalzell put the padrona and Irene 
 in the seats of honour in front, and sat further 
 back, caring much less for the opera than to wit- 
 ness the pleasure of her companions, only regret- 
 ting that ' Nino ' was no better off. Eesigned to 
 his destiny, however, he sat contentedly in the 
 back part of the box, which his wife declared was 
 quite good enough for men. The audience was al- 
 most exclusively Italian ; ermine tippets, just like 
 Madama Cecchi' s, swept over the fronts of most 
 of the boxes, and their Roman owners sat within, 
 with attention divided between each other and 
 the opera. Madama Cecchi seemed to know who 
 everybody was, and nodded to her acquaintances, 
 and made remarks on the rest of the audience 
 just as everybody else was doing. 
 
 ' There is Signora Monteverde ! see, signorina, 
 with her lover, Count Antonio. Ah, the Contessina
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORL 93 
 
 Emilia, look at her wreaths ! Ah, good evening, 
 Eurichetta ! Look, Xino, two boxes off. Signorina, 
 signorina! who is that looking at our box, as if 
 he saw the Madonna and all the angels here ? 
 "Why, it is Count Clementi — our Count Clementi 
 — the eontessa's son ! Ah, signorina mia /' 
 
 Irene coloured, and Mrs. Dalzell leant forward 
 enough to see with what intense interest a young 
 Italian was gazing up at them. She recognised 
 the hero of the Pastorale. Irene had to explain 
 to Madama Cecchi, who was much amused and 
 interested, and Mrs. Dalzell was fearful that her 
 remarks might fix the meeting in Irene's mind; 
 but she need not have distrusted her discretion ; 
 the padrona would by no means have encouraged 
 dangerous ideas ; she would have been horror- 
 stricken at the bare notion of an alliance between 
 the young heretic cantatrice and the noble Count 
 Clementi ; and of her own accord she turned to 
 another subject, and asked Irene if she saw a lady 
 who, with a pretty child and a young and very 
 handsome man, had just entered. ' Signora 
 Olivetti and her daughter, and that is young 
 Ravelli, who, they say, is to marry the little one, 
 when she is old enough. Your Madame Marriotti 
 knows the signora. She and her husband are 
 liberal ; they have been in England, eh, Nino ? 
 Did not Signor Olivetti once say, if he could have 
 chosen what he pleased to bring away from Eng- 
 land, he would have had a hat full of freedom ?' 
 
 Cecchi gave a kind of assenting grunt, which 
 conveyed a warning against imprudence, and the 
 opera beginning, all remarks were suspended. 
 It was evident that the audience were truly 
 and generally musical ; for, though they put up
 
 94 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 with very inferior scenery and acting, the slightest 
 fault in the music was instantly noticed with dis- 
 approbation, while a successful cadence from the 
 favourite siuger called forth such a rapture of 
 applause, that Mrs. Dalzell smiled, and then looked 
 at Irene, to see if she were anticipating the time 
 when such ovations would be hers. She looked 
 eager and happy, but presently turned to Mrs. 
 Dalzell with a sigh, and said, ' It is not the same 
 without Yincenzo :' and she excited Madama 
 Cecchi's indignation and jNmo's amusement, when 
 the opera was over, by her merciless criticisms on 
 the acting and costumes. They went away after the 
 play which followed the opera, without waiting for 
 the farce ; and as they rose, the young man who 
 had been observing them rose too, and stood at the 
 door as they came into the street. Irene met his 
 glance, full of dark fire ; she past on quickly, but 
 the remembrance of that look haunted her for a 
 long time ; all the more that she could not help 
 wondering, whenever she went in and out of the 
 palace, whether she might not meet the young 
 owner ; but she never did, and at last chanced 
 to hear that he had gone to visit his uncle, 
 Monsignore Clementi, at his estate near Ancona. 
 The thought of him gradually died away, for 
 she was too busy to have time for romantic dreams, 
 except of fame: and thus happily these two meetings, 
 which might seriously have affected a passionate 
 southern nature like hers, had her mind been 
 unoccupied, had little or no real effect. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell could not accustom herself to the 
 stay-at-home habits of Italians, nor believe that as 
 much air as was sufficient for health could be im- 
 bibed by loitering at a window. She declared that
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 95 
 
 it might do for idle people, but not for busy ones, 
 and took Irene out with her whenever she could ; 
 and further persuaded herself, that it would be 
 possible to take Yincenzo for a drive, laid at full 
 length on a mattress. He wanted more change 
 than from his sitting-room to his bed-room ; 
 medicine had done all it could for him, but an 
 invalid he always must be ; it only remained to 
 see how much variety could be introduced into his 
 life. The vehemence of delight with which he 
 received the proposal betrayed how thirstily he 
 had pined for change ; it seemed to him that one 
 glimpse of the green Campagna and the sapphire 
 hills would cure him, and he listened with feverish 
 eagerness to the discussions between Cecchi and 
 the courier, as to the best means of conveying 
 him up and down the long staircases. It was a 
 difficulty ! But at last ' Nino' bethought him 
 that certain great ladies never attempted to mount 
 similar staircases in their own houses, but were 
 always carried up in such a chair as he would pro- 
 cure for Yincenzo. When it came, Yincenzo was 
 irritated to find that the long confinement had so 
 tried his nerves that he actually dreaded the 
 attempt ; he could hardly make up his mind to let 
 Cecchi and the courier carry him down, and could 
 not help desiring Irene not to watch him so 
 anxiously. 
 
 A successful drive on the Pincio revived him, 
 and made the ascent less formidable, and thence- 
 forward Mrs. Dalzell never let anything inter- 
 fere with his going out in the carriage once 
 or twice a-week. She had a good deal of raillery 
 to undergo from her friends in consequence, but 
 it disturbed her very little ; and there was no
 
 96 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 denying that she looked much stronger and happier 
 since she had had these orphans to look after. 
 
 These shortexpeditions answered so well that Mrs. 
 Dalzell thought she might venture on a long one, 
 and proposed driving up Monte Mario, and letting 
 Vincenzo return alone while she and Irene walked 
 back by another way. Spring had advanced so far, 
 that she hoped to find cyclamens in blossom — 
 cyclamens, so rare in England, so common at Rome 
 both in spring and autumn. She was something 
 of a botanist, and tried hard to inspire Irene with 
 the same taste. Irene believed it was too early 
 for viole pazze, but rejoiced at the idea of the 
 expedition, and Mrs. Dalzell asked JNanna how far 
 it was to Villa Manzi. 
 
 ' I cannot say, signora,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Can you tell me at all ?' 
 
 ' Eh ! a good little piece, signora mia.' 
 
 ' How much may that be ?' persevered Mrs. 
 Dalzell. 
 
 1 Eh ! bella lung a — fairly long, dear signora.' 
 
 ' A mile, perhaps ?' 
 
 ' Ay, or it may be two, or perhaps three.' 
 
 In short, Nanna had not the least idea, but 
 never thought of saying so. Armed with such 
 accurate information, Mrs. Dalzell ordered her 
 carriage, and they drove towards the Porta Ange- 
 lica. As they passed through the streets she 
 looked round with the interest of a foreigner, and 
 said smiling to Yincenzo, ' I suppose these things 
 have no charm for you ; but do you know I see at 
 once three sights in this' very street, every one of 
 which should make a perfect picture.' 
 
 Irene followed her eye, and exclaimed triumph- 
 antly, ' I see what one is ! That flower in the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 97 
 
 balcony. I suppose you have not got it in Eng- 
 land ?' 
 
 ' No, I mean a living flower,' said Mrs. Dalzell, 
 amused, the more because she saw that Vincenzo 
 had instantly discovered the real object of her 
 admiration, an exceedingly handsome woman, who, 
 with white drapery on her head, scarlet boddice, 
 and coral necklace, was leaning from an upper 
 window, with one arm round a water-jar on the 
 sill, while she looked coquettishly upwards to a 
 neighbour with whom she was conversing, at a 
 window still higher, in the next house. 
 
 1 Now the group below — those burly brown 
 friars, with their hoods drawn over their heads, 
 who are laughing with the women and offering 
 them a pinch of snuff — you would not see such 
 a picturesque group out of Italy.' 
 
 ' And this is the third,' added Vincenzo, as they 
 passed a fountain at the corner of the street, where 
 a contadina child was leaning, her head supported 
 pensively by her hand, her bright dress giving a 
 touch of colour to the picture, while two great, 
 wide-horned, meek-eyed oxen — one white, the 
 other grey — had stopped, and, stooping side by side 
 from their yoke, were absorbing deep slow draughts 
 of water. 
 
 ' And there is another sight which I suppose 
 you would not see in England,' added Vincenzo, 
 as they came in view of the Tiber, up which twelve 
 or fourteen buffaloes, with sullen, retreating heads, 
 were slowly drawing a vessel against the stream. 
 
 1 No, indeed. What a glorious day it is !' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell, looking up to the clear, soft, deep 
 blue sky, full of sunshine. ' Ah ! you two are 
 lucky children, to be born in Home.' 
 
 VOL. I. h
 
 98 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Yes, I could not live out of Rome,' said Vin- 
 cenzo, drawing a deep breath as he looked out on 
 the landscape that began to unfold before their 
 eves, as they drove up the steep side of Monte 
 Mario. 
 
 ' You have no curiosity to see your father's 
 country ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I should certainly like to see England, 
 especially Devonshire — is not that somewhere in 
 the south ? My father had one or two drawings of 
 his own home — bits of green bowery shade and 
 sparkling way-side streams, such as I never saw.' 
 
 'Ah! he came from Devonshire — always a 
 school of landscape painters. And do you really 
 know nothing of his family — whether you have any 
 English relations ?' 
 
 ' He told me that he was brought up by an aunt, 
 who had a little money of her own, and when she 
 found he had a talent for painting, she had him 
 taught, and let him go away to London. He said 
 it often afterwards grieved him to think how she 
 must have pinched herself for his sake, even giving 
 up her independence (for she became housekeeper 
 in some great family) to be able to maintain him ; 
 but at the time, he said, he only thought of being 
 a painter. He was not a landscape painter exactly, 
 figures were what he liked best ; the Eoyal Aca- 
 demy in London sent him out here. I don't 
 understand exactly all about it, but he had money 
 from the Academy while he was studying here, and 
 he sent several pictures to it and his old aunt was 
 so happy at his success. I have several letters of 
 hers still, papa always kept them ; they are kind, 
 simple letters. I must show them to you. Before 
 the time came for him to go home, she died, and
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 99 
 
 then he did not care to go back. He made Eome 
 his home, and we were born here.' 
 
 ' Yes, you are true Romans ; but Devonshire is 
 a county to be proud of; it is one of the most 
 historical in England; many of Queen Elizabeth's 
 heroes came thence.' 
 
 ' I know so little of English history,' said Yin- 
 cenzo. ' Irene and I ought to read some.' 
 
 Irene shook her head, and Mrs. Dalzell said, ' I 
 think plays are the only things this child likes to 
 read. Have you read anything else, Irene ?' 
 
 ' I know the lives of the saints, and some poems 
 about brigands, and I can say a good deal of 
 Orlando by heart, and I have read one volume of 
 the Ebraico Err ante.'' 
 ' The what ?' 
 
 ' The Ebraico Err ante : there is a great deal 
 about the Jesuits in it.' 
 
 ' Eugene Sue's Wandering Jew V exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dalzell. 
 
 1 Yes, some one lent papa the first volume, but 
 I never read any more ; he said I had better not.' 
 ' Indeed, I think so. And is that all ?' 
 ' No, there is the Book of Dreams,' said Irene, 
 looking mischievous. 
 
 'Don't you thinkus hopelessly ignorant, signora?' 
 said Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Xot at all ; it is a refreshing novelty to meet 
 with people who have read nothing, and besides — 
 Is this the villa, Irene ?' 
 
 The carriage paused at the door, but repeated 
 ringing produced no other effect than making a 
 boy look over the high wall, and ask if they had 
 permission to enter. Hearing that they had not, 
 he perched himself on the wall, and regarded them 
 
 h2
 
 100 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 with a grin at their dilemma. Irene asked if a 
 permit were realty necessary, and, probably fancy- 
 ing the whole party were foreigners, he pretended 
 not to understand, to her boundless indignation. 
 Vincenzo said that as good a view as that from 
 the villa could be obtained from a field a little 
 further off; and they drove on, disregarding the 
 shouts of the young urchin, who had doubtless 
 intended to extort a bribe. They soon came to a 
 trellised gate, leading into a farm-yard ; Vincenzo 
 bade the driver stop, and told Mrs. Dalzell to go 
 through it and make the owner of the cottage close 
 by show them where to go. His own share of the 
 expedition ended here ; he returned in the carriage 
 to Eome, and Irene and Mrs. Dalzell were admitted 
 by a peasant into the farm-yard. It was a veri- 
 table farm-yard, full of poultry, clucking hens, 
 guinea fowls, and turkeys, and plenty of straw ; 
 but there was a vineyard above, reached by little 
 flights of stone steps ; the bank, in front of which 
 there were two water troughs, was faced with 
 stone, and plastered over ; and on the plaster was 
 a gay fresco of two women at a well, one carrying 
 a pitcher on her head, the other bearing a child 
 stooping over her shoulder towards a dog. The 
 illusion was so complete that Mrs. Dalzell at first 
 believed the well as real as the troughs ; and then 
 that they likewise were painted. On one side of 
 the yard was a cottage shut off by a reed fence ; 
 an orange tree, laden with golden fruit, grew beside 
 it. 
 
 They followed their guide through the vineyard, 
 where the narrow path was bordered by spike- 
 nard, China roses, and stocks, which he called 
 viole. He plucked a nosegay for each lady, and
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 101 
 
 Irene added some of the abundant wild marigold 
 — primo Jiore, as Eomans call it, because it is 
 the first flower that ventures out in spring ; and 
 they walked on through a wheat field till they 
 reached a rough fence, where their guide made a 
 gap, and Mrs. Dalzell found that he expected her 
 to scramble through it. Irene sprang down to the 
 ground below, and helped her to follow, and they 
 found themselves on the side of a hill where a 
 wood had been felled, and was replaced by oak 
 brushwood and brambles, rendered more prickly 
 still by the sarsaparilla, which climbed and tangled 
 everywhere. A wide view of the Campagna and 
 the city lay beneath them ; the sunlight glittered 
 on the Tiber, and gave a rosy tinge to the snow 
 on the distant hills; but there was none on Soracte, 
 which rose up blue and solitary. 
 
 Irene was more interested in seeking wild 
 flowers than in looking at the landscape, but all 
 the botanist in Airs. Dalzell awoke at the sight of 
 the novel plants around her. The dark leaves of 
 the cyclamens, spotted with white, were abundant ; 
 but either they were the autumnal kind, or the 
 season was too early for blossom. A plant with 
 large smooth grass-like leaves proved to be the 
 white asphodel ; Irene did not know its name, 
 but was able to give some information as to its 
 uses — a kind of spirit is extracted from it. A second 
 prize with small, intensely purple flowers, turned 
 out to be the Italian anchusa. Mrs. Dalzell sat 
 down, aud began to arrange her treasures, whilst 
 she asked Irene if she knew the names of no 
 flowers except violets and roses. 
 
 1 Oh yes. This is Jior della 3Iado?ma, because 
 it blossoms in what the peasants call the Madonna's
 
 102 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 month of May,' replied Irene, pulling a twist of 
 honeysuckle from around a dwarf oak ; ' and that 
 leaf, which the pats of butter come wrapped in, is 
 serpent's bread or else giarra." 1 
 
 ' The arum f* 
 
 ' That's it ; and I know the names of some 
 garden flowers ; what you call mignonnette is 
 amorino, and the pansy is suocera e nuora — mother 
 and daughter-in-law. Then there is a white flower — 
 snowdrop I believe you call it — pan di neve is our 
 name ; it grows in that valley yonder, in the cork 
 woods — you see them, do you not ? You should 
 see what flowers there are at Frascati and Albano ! 
 While papa was alive we went somewhere 
 every summer, in villegiatura, you know — once 
 to Ravenna, once to Ostia ; those are not places 
 Romans go to, but he wanted to draw there — and 
 a great many times to Arriccia. Ah, signora! if you 
 would but stay all the summer, and go to Frascati! 
 There are many villas there, and we can walk in 
 the gardens of all ; you say we never walk, but 
 you should see us in villegiatura ! We rise with 
 the sun, and go out while the air is fresh and cool, 
 then we return to breakfast, and perhaps pay visits 
 till ten o'clock, when it grows hot, and we read, 
 or work, or sleep, till nearly sunset. Sometimes 
 we dine in a vineyard. In the evening, if you 
 wish for a sentimental and romantic walk — ' (Mrs. 
 Dalzell could not help smiling at the seriousness 
 with which this was said) — ' you may go to the 
 gardens ; if, on the contrary, ) ou desire to see the 
 great world, you go to the piazza. Frascati is a 
 city ; it has a cathedral. You find the piazza full 
 of people, sitting in the open air, or in the cafes, 
 and often there is a band playing. Just before
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 103 
 
 one at night, all who know anything about it fly 
 under cover till the sun is down, and the foreigners 
 look so puzzled by this disappearance. After sun- 
 set we come out again.' 
 
 I Sunset, and one at night ! What are you 
 dreaming of, my child?' 
 
 'Did I say one at night? Well ! Oh, I quite 
 forgot; in French hours it is seven. They are 
 the same as English ones ; are they not so ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I understand that ; but you were as in- 
 comprehensible to me as your clocks, which Vin- 
 cenzo declares talk wisdom when one understands 
 them.' 
 
 ' Then, the rides,' continued Irene, returning to 
 what were evidently her pleasantest recollections ; 
 1 you should see us going out on sombrari — asses I 
 mean — gentlemen and ladies riding in great parties ; 
 and before long an ass is sure to bray, and then 
 some one cries, "Hark! he calls on Jove;" and 
 then the laughing!' 
 
 ' What does that mean ? ' 
 
 I I don't know ; it is what we say when asses 
 do so. 1 
 
 1 It is only the asses who continue to worship 
 Jove ; he is quite dethroned in his own capitol, 
 though you still call on Bacchus.' 
 
 ' Oh, signora, see there, an anemone ! Do you 
 think we can get it ? ' 
 
 'What, have you spied out a Campagna anemone? 
 What a purple! certainly violets and anemones 
 are more beautiful here than anywhere else,' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell, advancing to the edge of the slope, 
 whereby she started a hare that had lain crouched 
 close by. It scampered off, and while she was 
 yet stooping to reach the flower, the sharp report
 
 104 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 of a gun, as if in her very ear., so startled her that 
 she slipped, and could only save herself by cling- 
 ing to the brushwood. Yincenzo's accident had 
 made Irene nervous : she uttered a cry and sprang 
 forwards. The ground was extremely steep, and 
 as slippery as gla^s ; Mrs. Dalzell vainly tried to 
 re-ascend, and was calling to Irene to be careful, 
 and to see whether the peasant were anywhere 
 near, when the owner of the gun, a young Italian, 
 appeared. He perceived her predicament directly, 
 and hastened to assist her, and she was soon again 
 by the side of Irene, who, by her desire, explained 
 the cause of her misadventure, and thanked him 
 for his timely aid. He immediately sprang lightly 
 down to a spot where anemones were plentiful, 
 and returned with a handful, which he offered to 
 Mrs. Dalzell. She thanked him, and he walked by 
 her side, till they had reached the wheat field. As 
 they crossed the fence again, she observed, ' This 
 will be quite an adventure to tell Yincenzo, Irene,' 
 words which, though spoken in English, made the 
 stranger start, and look at Irene with a smile, 
 saying, ' That speech tells me whom I have had 
 the pleasure of meeting; the ladies who lodge 
 with Giovanni Cecchi, is it not ? He is one of 
 my oldest friends, and I have frequently heard his 
 wife talk of the amiable brother and sister who 
 live with her, and of the great goodness of this 
 lady.' 
 
 ' Yes, we do live there,' replied Irene with a 
 questioning glance, to whic 1 he replied with, 
 ' Have you ever heard her name Leone Nota ?' 
 
 Irene remembered that the padrona always 
 spoke of him as un bravissimo giovane. Her smile 
 answered his question, and he continued eagerly —
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 105 
 
 ' She has often spoken of you to me, and how 
 much you and your brother love each other.' 
 
 1 There are but two of us,' answered Irene, 
 rather sadly. 
 
 ' Even so you are far richer than I — rich too in 
 this friend.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, indeed. Have you no brother, nor 
 sister?' 
 
 ' I have two sisters,' he answered. 
 
 ' But then — ?' said Irene, inquiringly. 
 
 1 One is but just married,' he returned. 
 
 ' But the other ?' 
 
 1 A nun,' replied Leone, with a look of sudden 
 gloom. Irene's face expressed so much interest, 
 that he added, ' A nun in the convent of the 
 Battestine? 
 
 ' Where is that ?' asked Mrs. Dalzell, who had 
 followed the conversation with tolerable ease. 
 
 ' Xear the Piazza Barberini,' he answered, but 
 his manner showed that the subject was uuwelcome. 
 
 * Still you have one sister whom you can see 
 constantly,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 ' It is true, but hitherto we have scarcely seen 
 each other. She was educated at Sta. Rufina.' 
 
 " Ah !' said Irene, comprehendingly ; but, per- 
 ceiving that Mrs. Dalzell did not see why this 
 fact should naturally occasion an estrangement, 
 she explained that girls are frequently sent to con- 
 vents when they are four or five years old, leaving 
 them only at sixteen or seventeen, often to be 
 married to some one whom they have never seen. 
 There are no holidays, so that though their families 
 may visit them once or twice a month, they know 
 very little of their homes, and brothers and sisters 
 are almost strangers.
 
 106 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Every one says that Yincenzo and I are an 
 English brother and sister, not Italian,' she added. 
 
 ' I have often wished to know your brother,' 
 said Leone, looking at the elder lady for encourage- 
 ment, aware that he must not expect any from the 
 younger. Mrs. Dalzell liked his looks and manner, 
 and hearing that he was a friend of her landlord, 
 encouraged him to pay Yincenzo a visit, thinking 
 that a new friend would be a great advantage to 
 him. Leone's look of vivid delight surprised her ; 
 she could not understand why the acquaintance 
 was such an object to him, nor was she enlight- 
 ened by his saying to Irene, ' Your brother reads 
 much, does he not ? He can get books here ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, since he has been ill he has read a 
 great deal ; the Signora Dalzell lends him books, 
 and he has them from the church library ; I bring 
 him one every Sunday.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you have a library — it is only for Pro- 
 testants, of course. The German artists have one 
 also ; I sometimes get books thence through a 
 friend of mine.' 
 
 ' You know German !' said Mrs. Dalzell, with 
 an intonation of wonder, for she knew that it was 
 an unusual accomplishment among [Romans, to 
 whom the language presented great difficulties, 
 and who, moreover, were little given to study. ' I 
 thought you all detested the Germans and their 
 language.' 
 
 ' AYe distinguish between the Austrians and the 
 rest of Germany, signora; I do not think the 
 language is antipatico to us, but the difficulties are 
 immense to one who only has a dictionary and 
 grammar to help him.' 
 
 1 But why do you not have a master ?' asked 
 Irene.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 107 
 
 1 Because I am too poor,' he answered simply. 
 - 1 suppose the fact of the Germans possessing so 
 good a library here, explains why the shops are so 
 poor in German books, and why they are so very 
 dear.' 
 
 'Have you studied English ?' asked ALrs. Dalzell. 
 
 'Yes, in the same way. I have wished con- 
 tinually to know some English — and now I have 
 found them,' said Leone, with a look at Irene. 
 
 ' Yes, the signora is quite English,' she replied, 
 never supposing, for an instant, he could mean 
 herself, till Mrs. Dalzell said, laughingly — 
 
 1 The signorina thinks herself " quite" Italian.' 
 
 ' I !' cried Irene, colouring with displeasure at 
 the idea that any one could think her otherwise — 
 ' I am Roman — we were born here.' 
 
 1 You speak like a true Roman, which I daresay 
 you have found out that I am not,' replied Leone, 
 entertained by the indignant manner in which she 
 spoke ; ' but Signora Cecchi told me your father 
 was English.' 
 
 1 Aly mother was Italian — from il Regno ; she 
 came from Sora.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Leone, perceiving now why Irene 
 had a cast of feature which, though entirely fo- 
 reign, was quite unlike the low-browed dark-eyed, 
 glowing Roman women — ' Sora — it has always been 
 celebrated for its beautiful women.' 
 
 'Ah! you should have seen mamma's picture,' 
 said Irene. ' Papa painted her before they married, 
 when she still wore the Sora dress. She left it off 
 when she came here, because people looked at her 
 so much, but sometimes she put it on again to 
 please him.' 
 
 ' You have the portrait, of course r' 
 
 * No,' answered Irene, sadly.
 
 108 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 1 What has become of it ?' 
 
 ' It was sold when we were poor,' she an- 
 swered, tears filling her eyes. 
 
 1 Forgive me, signorina,' said Leone, earnestly, 
 and distressed at having called up painful recollec- 
 tions. 
 
 ' Oh, there is nothing to forgive ; if I think of 
 it now, it is only to be grateful to the dear signora, 
 who came and helped us,' said Irene, clasping and 
 kissing Mrs. Dalzell's hand, in pretty southern 
 gratitude ; ' she is so good — so good to us !' 
 
 1 Would it be impossible to recover that pic- 
 ture ?' said Mrs. Dalzell, smiling but embarrassed, 
 like a true Englishwoman as she was. Leone's 
 face repeated the question. 
 
 ' Oh, I think so. I do not know who bought 
 it ; it went to the Monte — it ought to have sold for 
 a great deal of money, Vincenzo said. Papa's name 
 was in one corner — Vincent Moore — and the date. 
 All our pretty sketches went too, and Yincenzo's 
 frames ! We ate them all up, as Nanna says ; and 
 at last we had nothing left to eat except Tevere ! 
 I really think we must have eaten him too, if the 
 signora had not come.' 
 
 To prevent any more gratitude, Mrs. Dalzell 
 asked if there were not magnificent libraries in 
 Rome ; she had heard of one at the Minerva. 
 ' There are, but they are not open to ladies.' 
 ' No ; but I was thinking of you.' 
 ' Xor to me. To read there, you must have a 
 permission from your confessr', and if he fancies 
 that you have liberal views — or — or — in short, are 
 not convinced that all things at Eome are perfec- 
 tion, you will wait long before you enter those 
 libraries.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 109 
 
 ' And you do not think so, signor ?' 
 
 I Oh, signora ! what an English question ! ' said 
 Irene. 
 
 ' I am not afraid to say what I think,' replied 
 Nota, smiling. ' I compare our Government with 
 those of other countries, and I see that we are 
 three centuries behind the rest of the world; I see 
 foreigners sharing Italy amongst them, and a pri- 
 vileged class taking all to itself; I see sacred 
 names and noble offices abused by hypocrites and 
 their tools, and turned to base and selfish ends. 
 ZS o, I am not contented — I am not likely to think 
 Rome perfection,' he concluded, vehemently. ' If 
 you knew our history ; if you could imagine how 
 utterly oppressed every one is who is so much 
 as suspected of a spark of patriotism — how the 
 tyranny round us eats into our very souls — sur- 
 rounds us like one slow, ceaseless fall of burning 
 snow, as in Dante's Vision — you would not need 
 to ask me such a question.' 
 
 ' Oh, signor, what rash words !' said Irene, look- 
 ing round with a startled glance. 
 
 ' It seems to me that you are at least not afraid 
 to speak what you think,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 I I am speaking to an Englishwoman, who knows 
 what freedom is ; I am not afraid of my words 
 being used against me,' answered Nota ; ' but, if 
 need were, there is not a priest in Rome before 
 whom I would not say the same.'
 
 110 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mournfully 
 Be raised his looks, and met the virgin's eye. 
 Whoe'er thou art, look hack, when on thy tame 
 Expanse of life first flashed love's heavenly flame, 
 And own the date the holy kalend took, 
 Rose from the worship kindled in a look. 
 
 Buiwek. 
 
 LEOXE NOTA kept his promise ; he speedily 
 came to pay Madama Cecchi a visit, and when 
 she learnt that Mrs. Dalzell had given permission to 
 introduce him to Yincenzo, she was delighted to 
 do so. An odd kind of dread that she should be 
 held responsible if anything happened — if Leone 
 and Irene fell in love, for instance — or if any other 
 disaster occurred, had made her obdurate to his 
 former entreaties, that she would present him to 
 the brother and sister, of whom she was continually 
 talking. 
 
 Leone stood on the highest pinnacle of her good 
 graces ; one reason was that he, when fortune had 
 frowned upon ' Nino,' had been one of the few who 
 stood steadily by him. He had a post in the Dateria 
 which enabled him to live, but gave him very few 
 means of indulging his natural love of study. His 
 boyhood had been passed in a little country village, 
 where newspapers and books were nearly unknown. 
 The only new introductions in that line were his 
 own purchases, and money was as scarce with him 
 as were books. A convent library, where, by the 
 favour of an old priest, he was allowed to read,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. Ill 
 
 was his chief resource, and it afforded just food 
 enough to make him crave for more. "When 
 circumstances had caused his family to remove 
 to Rome, he received the change as a Heaven- 
 sent opportunity of entering the scientific and 
 literary world of which he had dreamed. He found 
 himself mistaken ; the kind of society which he 
 had expected did not exist : encouragement to a 
 literary aspirant — especially to one of his turn — 
 was small indeed ; the censorship was quick to see 
 the liberal through the poet. But Leone was not 
 so easily disposed of. He saw and felt such evil, 
 such miserable oppression around him, as drove 
 weaker men into dumb despair, but only impelled 
 his own gentle and sensitive, but brave and fervid, 
 nature, into one life-long resistance — one fearless, 
 wrathful protest, already not without effect, though 
 men knew not whence came those trenchant, noble 
 words, which amazed ears accustomed to courtly 
 phrases, or, at the utmost, to sighs smothered lest 
 they should offend those who caused them. Mrs. 
 Dalzell little knew whom she had got hold of in 
 Leone Xota ! Cecchi could have told her, but he 
 knew well that in all places, especially at Home, if 
 ' speech is silvern, silence is golden,' and said 
 nothing. 
 
 To Yincenzo the acquaintance was a great 
 event ; it gave him a new interest, and con- 
 nected him with the outer world ; and Leone's 
 views, Leone's sentiments towards the present, and 
 hopes for the future, soon engrossed him, almost 
 as much as they did Xota himself. Yincenzo in- 
 stinctively perceived that they were wider, truer, 
 nobler than those of Cecchi, and began to realize 
 that there was something possible between slavery 
 and Eed Republicanism.
 
 112 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Leone's chief object in making the acquaint- 
 ance had been to study English ; but the book 
 was frequently thrown aside for some ardent dis- 
 cussion, to which Irene, if present, listened with 
 corresponding animation ; and when Nino and his 
 wife were present, the politics talked would have 
 made the whole Mezzo JParadiso (as the Roman 
 hierarchy are called by Eoman wits) stand aghast. 
 Yet it might be observed already how much less 
 hopeful a view of the future Vincenzo took than 
 did Nota or Cecchi. The want of health had 
 told upon him, and while taking away the elastic 
 hopefulness of youth had given him something 
 of the sad philosophy of age. While Cecchi saw 
 the bow of hope amid the mists and storms of 
 revolution, and Leone trusted fearlessly to gradual 
 reform, Vincenzo, with his calmer temperament 
 and perhaps deeper insight, saw that the first step 
 towards change would probably bring down exist- 
 ing institutions in ruins on their heads ; but Vin- 
 cenzo, though he might have spoken words wise 
 and weighty, was not the man for that time. 
 Rome wanted one who could utter a song of rap- 
 ture and suffering, such as rang from the lips of 
 Leone — from the soul of the young improvisatore 
 — the poet who ' had learnt in suffering what he 
 taught in song !' 
 
 Vincenzo, for a long while, knew as little as did 
 Mrs. Dalzell that his friend was the author of 
 those stirring poems which were passed from hand 
 to hand, and read with eagerness, wonder, or 
 indignation, according to the opinions of those 
 who read them. It was too serious a matter to 
 be lightly owned. He only felt that with Leone 
 came new interests, fresh thoughts, sunshine
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 113 
 
 enough, to brighten his whole day ; and he assured 
 him that he could not come too often. Xearly 
 every evening found Leone sitting by the couch, 
 talking or studying English. Irene was generally 
 at this time with Mrs. Dalzell, who thought the 
 studies would get on just as well without her, 
 though she did not invariably keep her away. Nota, 
 therefore, had become thoroughly intimate with the 
 brother, while he, comparatively, hardly knew the 
 sister ; but an unexpected event made them real 
 friends. 
 
 It came to pass that Irene, entering her own 
 room one day, after a morning spent over her 
 music with Madame Marriotti, found a bou- 
 quet on her table, tied with so handsome a 
 ribbon that it was plain the flowers were a 
 mere pretext for sending a more valuable gift. 
 She looked at it in wonder and admiration, with- 
 out perceiving JSTanna, who, chuckling, watched 
 her from a corner ; then, suddenly catching up 
 the flowers, she ran into the sitting-room too 
 fast to hear Xanna's hasty call. ' Vincenzo,' she 
 began, breathlessly ; but he was not there — a 
 headache had prevented his rising to breakfast, 
 and, doubtless, still kept him prisoner. Disap- 
 pointed, and afraid to disturb him, she slowly 
 untied the flowers, admiring the ribbon, and mar- 
 velling much from whence it came. She had so 
 entirely forgotten Count Clementi that she never 
 thought of him ; indeed, she believed him still 
 absent ; and though Xanna had given several 
 mysterious hints of late, she had heeded them 
 little. The rose-coloured band signified love, as she 
 knew very well. Loosed from their confinement, 
 the flowers separated, and a note fell to the ground. 
 VOL. i. i
 
 114 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 She lifted it in haste, and looked at it, hesitating 
 and colouring. Raising her eyes, she found those 
 of Leone Nota fixed upon her in reproach. 
 
 1 1 know nothing about it!' she exclaimed, invo- 
 luntarily. 
 
 ' Pardon me, signorina,' he answered, coldly, ' I 
 merely came to see your brother, and regret to 
 find him so unwell. I will not intrude on you 
 longer.' 
 
 ' Stay!' she exclaimed, forgetting the breach of 
 etiquette which she committed in remaining alone 
 with one who was no relation — ' You are not to 
 fancy what you now do. I found these flowers in 
 my room ; I do not know who sent them.' 
 
 ' Doubtless your maid does, signorina,' replied 
 Leone ; and his look and tone were so bitter and 
 scornful, that Irene lifted her head proudly and 
 said, ' Believe or not, as you please ; I am in no way 
 obliged to explain to you ; but I did not wish my 
 brother's friend to think ill of me.' 
 
 ' I believe in Vincenzo's sister, and I believe in 
 Irene,' said Leone, with the rare and sweet smile 
 which gave a wonderful charm to his thoughtful 
 countenance ; ' it was not of you that I was 
 thinking but of another. Do you recollect at our 
 first meeting, I told you one of my sisters was a 
 nun of the Battestine — a most austere order ? 
 Shall I tell you her history ? She came home 
 from Sta. Rufina at sixteen. My mother was 
 ill, and had entire confidence in her cameriera ; 
 Esmeralda, my sister, had ? dreary life ; I was 
 little at home. She made acquaintance, I know 
 not how, with one of the Fori family. He 
 bribed the maid, and she carried notes and mes- 
 sages, and let them meet in the garden. It was
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 115 
 
 all discovered. The Fori are rich and powerful ; 
 they were furious. To save my sister's good name, 
 my mother sent her back to the convent, and told 
 the world that she had gone by her own desire 
 for a few weeks of religious exercise. No one 
 doubted ; nothing was more likely. The Fori 
 speedily provided young Ignazio with a wife, 
 and then Esmeralda returned home. Poor child ! 
 she had believed his love was as true as her own ; 
 this was as death to her. She fell ill — recovered 
 as if by miracle, and declared that Heaven called her 
 to enter the Battestine. My mother knelt to her 
 to dissuade her ; all in vaiu ; so we lost her. Ah, 
 signorina ! if you could but imagine how sweet a 
 creature she was, and to think that this should be 
 the end!' 
 
 ' And may you see her now ?' asked Irene, much 
 touched by this sad story. 
 
 ' Once every four months ; but what is that ? 
 When I have told her how I am, and how my 
 sister Assunta is, what more is there to say ? I 
 cannot talk to her of the world,' said Leone, in a 
 tone of intense bitterness. 
 
 ' But she is happy, is she not ?' asked Irene, 
 
 half consolingly, half inquiringly. 
 
 1 How can I tell ? Do you suppose she can tell 
 me that, or that she had any real vocation ? Grant 
 she is happy now — she is a child — she has a child's 
 enthusiasm — how will it be when she is old, and 
 feels the want of something to fill her heart ? 
 But she will not live to be old ; no nun does in 
 a rigid order such as hers.' 
 
 1 May she write to you ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; but at present the abbess sees what she 
 writes. When she is " confirmed in her vocation," 
 
 12
 
 116 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 as they say, that will not be necessary,' answered 
 Leone, in a peculiar, low, sarcastic tone. 
 
 ' The Battestine? repeated Irene ; ' I wonder I 
 have never heard of them.' 
 
 'It is not wonderful ; there are but two con- 
 vents of them. The order was founded nearly a 
 hundred years ago, by a lady who intended to 
 have three ; one here, one at Genoa, one at Naples. 
 The Neapolitans did not fancy so strict a rule, or 
 she died too soon — I forget which ; the convent 
 there was never built. I only wonder that Esme- 
 ralda was content with the Battestine, and did not 
 enter the Sepolte Vive' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Irene, with a shudder. ' Here, at 
 least, you may see her sometimes.' 
 
 * Yes, and also Assunta can ; but if Assunta 
 has children, Esmeralda will not be permitted to 
 see them. No, nothing — nothing — nothing on 
 earth,' he exclaimed, emphasizing each repeti- 
 tion, ' shall make me believe that such a severance 
 of all ties can be pleasing to Him who made 
 them ; and never will society be pure where mar- 
 riage is systematically disparaged.' 
 
 ' I could not leave Yincenzo, I am afraid,' said 
 Irene, as if she felt that she were wrong. 
 
 ' Why should you ? Believe no one who could 
 tempt you to desert him. "Who has a right to break 
 those ties which Heaven has made ? But you are 
 a Protestant,' he added, almost with satisfaction. 
 
 'You do not think ill of us for that, then ?' said 
 Irene, smiling with pleasure ; for she knew how 
 differently most of her fellow-countrymen regarded 
 those whom they necessarily considered as under 
 the excommunication of the Church. 
 
 He smiled too, and asked, ' May I know what 
 you are going to do with that fine present ?'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 117 
 
 Irene had fairly forgotten it, and started as his 
 words recalled it to her. ' JSanna must have 
 brought it ; I shall tie it up and make her take it 
 back ; will not that be best ?' 
 
 1 Do not trust her, however much she may love 
 you, signorina.' 
 
 1 Oh, indeed, she is true to us ; she would die 
 for us.' 
 
 1 Yet she has tried to lead you into peril to-day, 
 Signorina Irene.' 
 
 She felt the truth of this, and hesitated. ' Sig- 
 norina,' said Leone, earnestly, ' I speak too plainly 
 perhaps, but let me do so this once. Trust 
 honour to no one ; guard it yourself and ask no 
 counsel. There are few cameriere who can resist 
 gold, and he who sent these flowers is doubtless 
 rich.' 
 
 I !N"o — I think not,' answered Irene, the thought 
 of Count Clementi flashing on her mind. Leone 
 looked confounded. She saw it, and added, ' ^Now, 
 I think I know who sent them ; I have twice 
 seen him, but I do not know him, nor wish to 
 know him — it was an evil face.' 
 
 ' Oh !' said Leone, drawing a deep breath of 
 relief. ' I was a fool to doubt you.' 
 
 ' Did you ?' said Irene, with her brilliant smile. 
 1 And you thought that I should have brought the 
 flowers into our public sitting-room, for all the 
 world to see — Signor Xota !' 
 
 o 
 
 I I shall never doubt again,' he answered, look- 
 ing earnestly at her, and thinking, for the first 
 time, that she had a very charming face. ' And 
 now I must go to my work.' 
 
 ' A rivederla, signor" said Irene, gaily; and she 
 carried back the flowers to her room ; tied them
 
 118 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 up, and put the note safely between them, before 
 she called IS"anna, who came mysterious and eager. 
 Her eye lit at once on the nosegay. ' What, 
 darling, have you not untied it yet ? Don't you 
 want to know who sent you such a beautiful 
 present ?' 
 
 ' So, Xanna ; don't you remember I told you 
 the other day not to talk nonsense to me ?' 
 
 ' A fine, generous signor," continued the old 
 woman, opening her hand a little way, and show- 
 ing a little gold coin. ' See what he gave the old 
 nurse for love of her pretty mistress.' 
 
 The warning of Nota returned forcibly to 
 Irene's mind. ' Joanna,' she said, ' I thought you 
 loved me, and yet you want to make me do what 
 would lose a girl her good name, and get her sent 
 to a convent. Listen to me. You are to take 
 this nosegay back to whoever sent it ; I do not 
 wish to know anything about it, and never say a 
 word to me of him again.' 
 
 ' Am I to drive the poor signor to despair, cruel 
 child ? JSTot one little kind word for him ? He 
 is a noble, he is no common man ; I can tell you, 
 he loves the air you breathe ; he is distracted with 
 love, till he knows no more what he does than a 
 fly without a head. Do you never mean to marry ? 
 Youth fades like a flower, and who will pluck it 
 when it is withered ?' 
 
 1 Oh yes, I mean to marry, and you may tell 
 him whom,' answered Irene, malice lighting up 
 eye and lip. 
 
 ' Per JBacco ! who is it ? Tell me, core of my 
 heart.' 
 
 1 Rossini,' answered Irene, running away and 
 humming the first bars of Una voce poco fa.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 119 
 
 Turning back, however, she said, seriously, l Re- 
 collect, Xanna, I am in earnest ; and another time 
 I must tell Signora DalzelL' 
 
 In spite of all the English lady had done for them, 
 ]N"anna hated and feared her. Obsequious to her 
 face, she scowled at her the moment she could do 
 so unseen. On the heretic stranger depended 
 Irene's fortune ; she had gold, therefore she must 
 be coaxed and nattered ; but she was English and 
 a ' schismatic,' and Nanna's opinion as to her des- 
 tiny in the next world was more clear than chari- 
 table. Irene's threat compelled the old woman to 
 obedience, but she felt deeply injured at the chance 
 of other scudi being cut off ; she considered her- 
 self deprived of a certain income due to her, and 
 therefore softened the refusal of the flowers, and 
 gave hopes for the future, in a way her young 
 mistress had little intended. 
 
 After this day Irene and young Nota were ex- 
 cellent friends. Her head was full of her music, 
 and at friendship she stopped ; but Leone's feel- 
 ings gradually became of a more ardent nature. 
 He had never known any girl intimately before ; 
 domestic life, like that of Irene and Yincenzo's, 
 was new to him, and their mutual love had struck 
 him as singularly beautiful, long before he dis- 
 covered that Irene was bewitching. 
 
 The three were sitting together one evening, 
 with Madama Cecchi as chaperone, all playing at 
 the game of Briscola, which tradition says was in- 
 vented by four mutes. It is played entirely by 
 signs, a lifted finger signifying one card, a glance 
 another ; and as the object is for each partner to 
 communicate to the other what cards are in his 
 hand, without giving the two adversaries time to
 
 120 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 perceive the gesture, the signs are so momen- 
 tary, and so comic, that none but Italians, with 
 their eloquent features and fingers, could play at it. 
 The laughter was at its height, and the four Italian 
 voices were making as much noise as eight English 
 ones, when the door opened and the little dark 
 face of Madame Marriotti looked in. 
 
 I Oh,' said she, surveying the mirthful party 
 with her glittering black eyes, ' Oh — you are busy, 
 I see — I don't wish to disturb you,' and she 
 vanished. 
 
 ' Mrs. Dalzell,' said she, returning to her friend's 
 sitting-room, seating herself on the sofa, and 
 deliberately folding her hands, ' are you in your 
 senses ?' 
 
 I I hope so,' replied the other lady, smiling. 
 ■ Why ?' 
 
 ' Why !' repeated Madame Marriotti, growing 
 more excited. ' Why, do you ask ? Because — of 
 course I am no judge of such matters ; you know 
 best, no doubt, but one would think not. Why ? 
 — Why, because you let that young Nota come 
 here whenever he pleases, and Irene in the house !' 
 
 ' My dear madame, he comes to see Yinceiizo. 
 You cannot think how much good it has done the 
 poor boy to have a friend, and they study diligently. 
 Irene is generally with me.' 
 
 The little fairy surveyed her friend with an air 
 of mingled pity and indignation, quite indescribable. 
 ' My dear, you are not fit to have the care of an 
 Italian girl, and that is the tiuth. Do you know 
 that, keep them watched as you will, they manage 
 to receive messages, and fall in love ? Do you 
 suppose that young man sees any other girl, with- 
 out mother or aunt present, as he does Irene ?
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. Kl 
 
 What can they do but fall in love ? And I hoped 
 great things of her ; I really thought she would 
 do me credit. £\"ow her head will be turned, and 
 farewell music ! Hush !' 
 
 Irene entered at the moment, the laughing look 
 still on her face. Mrs. Dalzell asked what she 
 had been doing. 
 
 ' Oh, such a game at briscola ! Leone and I won 
 quite a heap of comfits. And Madama Cecchi has 
 been telling us about a weddiug that there is to 
 be in the palace. The daughter of that Maestro 
 di Canto is to marry the son of Professor Xegri ; 
 their windows are opposite, so they used to see 
 each other, and fell in love. She is a friend of 
 both families, and found out all about the bride's 
 dowry from Professor Xegri.' 
 
 'And probably it was his son whom I met on the 
 stairs, carrying a nosegay of magnificent flowers, 
 no doubt for his sposa? said Madame Marriotti, 
 looking at a camellia which Irene was wearing ; 
 ' a sposo has a right to make such offerings, but 
 no one else, unless father or brother.' 
 
 Irene blushed crimson, but it was not on account 
 of her camellia. She thought of other flowers ; 
 but Madame Marriotti misunderstood the blush, 
 and looked at Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 What is Tincenzo doing now ?' asked Mrs. 
 Dalzell. 
 
 1 He is alone ; Signor Leone is gone.' 
 
 ' Then you shall go back to him for a little while, 
 my dear ; I want to talk to madame.' 
 
 Irene ran away good humouredly. Madame 
 Marriotti rose, peeped out, returned and ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 1 Did you want to make her listen ? I cannot
 
 122 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 understand your ways ! At all events, you saw her 
 colour just now ?' 
 
 ' What you said was surely enough — ' 
 
 ' Nonsense, I am never mistaken in these things. 
 What imprudence ! what extravagance ! And she 
 was really improving wonderfully — wonderfully ! 
 I never heard ' Di piacer' better sung than by her 
 this morning. Oh, why should she fall in love ? 
 Oh ehe cosa ha questa di far V amove I che com ha 
 questa di far Vamore V exclaimed Madame Mar- 
 riotti, in despair. Then, folding her little hands 
 on her knee again, she sat looking straight before 
 her, and spoke no more. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell did not feel comfortable. She 
 thought she had been imprudent ; for though she 
 was far from being convinced that Irene felt any- 
 thing but friendship for Nota, an unwelcome idea 
 suddenly presented itself, that his feelings towards 
 Irene might be less tranquil, and she did not see 
 any way out of the difficulty. All at once Madame 
 Marriotti spoke again in most inflexible tones, such 
 as she only assumed when her art was in question. 
 
 ' Mrs. Dalzell, I took this girl as my pupil to 
 oblige you, and because I saw she had talent and 
 feeling for music. If she is to be a cantatrice, she 
 must give her whole mind to it ; Art is a jealous 
 mistress, no half allegiance will do for her. Irene 
 ought to work steadily for at least two years, and 
 then let her try her fortune on the stage. I say 
 she will succeed ; but mind, I will not have her for 
 my pupil for one hour, unless she devotes herself 
 to her art. No nonsensical love-making ; I must 
 have a thorough, earnest heart and soul.' 
 
 ' Perhaps it might be a happier lot if she mar- 
 ried, and never knew what fame was.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 123 
 
 1 A happier lot !' repeated Madame Marriotti, 
 marking each syllable with scornful emphasis. ' Is 
 that what we are sent into the world to think 
 about ? Would you have a single great name in 
 the past, if the men who stand up in it as beacons 
 to all ages had thought about a happy lot ? Be- 
 sides, that girl could not settle down quietly ; 
 tame domestic life is not for such as she ; she 
 might be satisfied for a time, but soon the void 
 would be felt ; she has had a glimpse of the pro- 
 mised land ; don't suppose she will forget it.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right,' said Mrs. Dalzell, rather 
 sadly ; ' but if the poor child really cares for Xota, 
 what is to be done ? I can't deprive Vincenzo of 
 his friend.' 
 
 1 If there is any good in the young man, he will 
 see that he ought not to interfere with Irene's voca- 
 tion,' said Madame Marriotti, emphatically. 
 
 'You must suppose him to be very fond of 
 music indeed, dear madame !' 
 
 ' At all events, let him, if he dare, speak a word 
 of love to her as long as she is my pupil. I tell 
 you, on my honour, that if he should, I give her 
 up. She may choose between me and him.' 
 
 ■ Shall I tell him this ?' 
 
 1 If you like. Much good that will do — she 
 thinks she is in England, no doubt,' said Madame 
 Marriotti, in an audible soliloquy. 
 
 The effect of this conversation was, that Mrs. 
 Dalzell had very little sleep that night, and there- 
 fore had ample time to consider her measures. 
 The first was to ask Leone to tea. 
 
 Hitherto she had had no anxieties or difficulties 
 with her p roteges since Irene's career had been de- 
 cided ; this threatened to be a serious perplexity.
 
 124 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 On one side, she thought that a real attachment 
 was a shield against many perils both for man and 
 woman, and in her heart she did not like Irene's 
 destination ; no Englishwoman could thoroughly 
 approve it. On the other, she could not but feel 
 that Irene in a certain way belonged to Madame 
 Marriotti, and that it might be a fatal mistake 
 to cage the wild bird, whom nature intended for 
 far and lofty flight ; but it was by no means 
 certain that ]S"ota would take the same view. 
 She anticipated the conversation uneasily, and 
 plunged, into the midst of it, when Leone arrived 
 on the appointed evening. It is to be feared 
 she was thoughtless on this occasion ; she entirely 
 forgot that tea was a beverage of which Italians 
 know nothing. Strong black coffee would have 
 been much more familiar to Leone, who probably 
 associated tea with a cold, for which he might 
 have taken a cup ; but something more interesting 
 than either coffee or tea occupied his thoughts ; 
 he looked round the room as if he expected to 
 see some one besides his hostess, and glanced so 
 often towards the door that she had a fair excuse 
 for saying, ' Tou are condemned to a tete-a-tete 
 evening with me, Signor Isota.' 
 
 ' I am but too much honoured,' said Leone, 
 bowing low, and using, as she did, the convenient 
 French ; ' where madame is ' 
 
 1 Yet I think there was some one else whom 
 you wished to see,' interrupted Mrs. Dalzell, who 
 never could accustom herself to receive or re- 
 turn the compliments which an Italian would 
 have taken as mere matters of form, just as an 
 Englishman does ' My dear,' at the beginning 
 of a letter.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 125 
 
 Leone looked disconcerted, though he knew that 
 no rudeness could be intended ; but it was one of 
 the cases where an Italian feels the abrupt English 
 speaker to be ' without education,' as he would 
 express it. 
 
 ' AVill you excuse a very plain question ?' con- 
 tinued Mrs. Dalzell. ' Do you come here for 
 Yincenzo's sake or for Irene's ?' 
 
 ' I came for Yincenzo's ; I do so still, but 
 now for Irene's also,' replied Leone, candidly, 
 but looking at her with anxiety. 
 
 1 Thank you ; it was a disagreeable question to 
 ask, and perhaps you think I had no right to ask 
 it; but ' 
 
 ' Madame has every right where Signorina Irene 
 is concerned.' 
 
 ' I will tell you what induced me to do so. 
 Madame Marriotti has been very kind in teach- 
 ing Irene ; it is of inestimable value to Irene to 
 have her instructions, and her name will give any 
 pupil a certain prestige, as of course you know. 
 She says that Irene has great powers, and I think 
 you will agree with me, that we owe her some 
 gratitude for the pains she has taken in teaching 
 her.' 
 
 ' And therefore, madame ' 
 
 1 Therefore Irene must show it in the only way 
 she can ; by studying in earnest. I am afraid, 
 if she guesses what you have just told me, she 
 will have many distractions from her music' 
 
 1 You cannot suppose, signora, that a w T ord has 
 passed between us,' began Leone, impetuously. 
 
 1 Xo, indeed ; but it is of the future that I am 
 thinking. Could you maintain a wife ?' 
 
 ; I am poor, but I must rise in my business,
 
 126 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 unless ' A sudden eloud came over his face, 
 
 as if some unwelcome idea had occurred to him, 
 and he shaded his face with his hand. 
 
 I Well, but first there is another consideration. 
 Irene is ambitious ; do you suppose she would be 
 contented to lead a quiet life, or even be a. prima 
 donna here ? This is a very small corner of the 
 world to satisfy a great cantatrice. Listen one mo- 
 ment longer : she is too young to make any deci- 
 sion yet ; I could not let her pledge herself in any 
 way for several years to come, though I confess 
 that when she is a little older, I would gladly see 
 her your wife ; in consideration of which you must 
 forgive all the unpleasant things I am saying, 
 Signor JNTota. Madame Marriotti says that the 
 only condition on which she will continue to teach 
 her is, that no disturbing notions are suggested to 
 her by you ; and I ask, how are we to manage if 
 you meet constantly ?' 
 
 ' Tou are right, madame ; and if you knew all, 
 you would say I have no right to link any one's 
 fate to mine. I come here no more.' 
 
 ' Kay, that is the last thing I wish. What is 
 Yincenzo to do without his friend ?' 
 
 ' And what am I to do ?' broke in Leone, with 
 sudden passion. ' You think nothing of the tor- 
 ture to which you would subject me. Am I to 
 meet Irene daily, and not so much as attempt to 
 win a kind look from her, while others may seek 
 her as they please? I could not trust myself. 
 Better see her no more.' 
 
 I I do not perceive why ; but you must settle it 
 with yourself, of course,' said Mrs. Dalzell, quietly. 
 ' If you really cannot trust yourself, so much the 
 worse ; I was mistaken in you ; but I cannot
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 127 
 
 believe it. Surely, for her sake (I dare say you 
 are going to tell me you would die for it) ; well, 
 then, cannot you make the sacrifice of being only 
 a friend to her for the next two years ? Consider, 
 Irene might one day reproach you if you inter- 
 fered with what seems her vocation, when she is 
 too young to be really able to judge for herself. 
 It is for her good that I ask this ; and I give you 
 my full leave to speak after her musical education 
 shall have been completed. You say you still come 
 here for Yincenzo's sake ; have you any right to 
 deprive him of your friendship ? Come, Signor 
 Xota, I trust you ; don't tell me you cannot trust 
 yourself, unless you would have me think you 
 are unworthy of Irene.' 
 
 Leone's vehemence had vanished under the in- 
 fluence of her composure ; he sank into a reverie, 
 from which the cessation of her voice roused 
 him. 
 
 ' Madame,' he said, ' you are putting me to a 
 hard trial, but you honour me by much trust. It 
 is more than probable that, if you knew my his- 
 tory, you would be still less willing to give Irene 
 to me. At all events, I promise that while she 
 is Madame Marriotti's pupil she shall never guess, 
 from word or look, so far as I can help it, what 
 are my feelings towards her. Two years will alter 
 many things here, for good or for evil.' 
 
 ' I thank you once more,' said Mrs. Dalzell, 
 much pleased, though she was not quite quixotic 
 enough to believe that he could control looks as 
 well as words, and rather perplexed by the mys- 
 tery in what he had said. ' I am certain you will 
 keep your word. And now tell me something 
 about yourself; Madama Cecchi has told me a
 
 128 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 good deal, but I am not sure that I understand 
 what you could have meant just now.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not,' answered Leone, with a slight 
 smile, feeling how impossible it would be for an 
 Englishwoman unversed in Italian politics, to rea- 
 lize in the least how precarious was the position of 
 any man in Home who had made himself in any 
 way obnoxious to the Government. ' If I told 
 you that I live on the edge of a precipice, and that 
 an instant may cast me into the gulf below, what 
 would you think ? Listen with incredulity, or 
 imagine me guilty of some enormous crime ?' 
 
 1 Xot that, at all events,' replied Mrs. Dalzell, 
 looking smilingly at his singularly attractive coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Leone paused and considered. How was he 
 to make her comprehend the necessity of entire 
 secrecy ? Suddenly making up his mind, he began 
 his story; one simple enough ; his fortune so small, 
 and his prospects, as far as wealth went, so dis- 
 tant, that Mrs. Dalzell, listening with much in- 
 terest, wondered, in silence, whether they would 
 satisfy Irene, who, as she had rightly judged, was 
 ambitious ; but she always felt, when speculating 
 upon what Irene would do or think, as if she had 
 a foreign bird in her possession of brilliant hues, un- 
 known notes, and habits altogether different from 
 those of quiet English ones. Perhaps Irene might, 
 after all, think a home, and the affection of such a 
 man as JN T ota, more attractive than fame. Mrs. 
 Dalzell thought there was no comparison between 
 them ; but then, she was no longer very young, 
 nor a musician, nor an Italian. She was much 
 surprised by Leone's entire submission, for she 
 was not aware of the enormous authority of parents
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 129 
 
 and guardians in Italy, and Leone naturally felt 
 that it would be ungrateful, indeed, to deny her 
 right to dispose of Irene. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell derived one great satisfaction from 
 this conversation — the conviction that Leone was 
 worthy of Irene; she liked him thoroughly — so 
 thoroughly that she would not be discomposed 
 by the dissatisfaction of Madame Marriotti, when 
 told of the kind of compact that had been formed. 
 She was quite incredulous that Xota would keep 
 his word ; or, even granting that such a miracle 
 should occur, that Irene would not fall in love un- 
 asked; and she listened disdainfully to Mrs. Dalzell's 
 assertion, that girls were quite capable of feeling 
 nothing but friendship. That might be all very 
 true among the icy northern nations, Madame 
 Marriotti said ; it was another matter in Italy, 
 where men choose their wives by a pretty face, or 
 else for a dowry. Two looks were enough. Did 
 Mrs. Dalzell suppose that young wretch and Irene 
 could meet daily with impunity ? 
 
 'Yet, I do not call Irene pretty,' said Mrs. 
 Dalzell. 
 
 I She is fascinating : you will see how she will 
 be worshipped. "Well, you know my mind on this 
 matter, so take your chance.' 
 
 I I trust them both,' replied Mrs. Dalzell ; and 
 though Madame Marriotti did not perceive the 
 full force of the reply, she held her peace ; for in 
 her advancing age, and the loneliness which, in 
 spite of many friends, necessarily closed round 
 one who had no family, she could not afford to 
 lose the scholar, of whom she was secretly very 
 proud, and whom she loved, perhaps, more than she 
 was aware. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 But ever and anon of griefs subdued 
 There conies a token like a serpent's sting. 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 COMIXGr one day unexpectedly into Vincenzo's 
 sitting-room, Mrs. Dalzell was struck by the 
 utter despondency of his look and attitude. The 
 engraving of St. Michael stood on a desk near 
 him, and the half-finished carving beside it ; but 
 he had not touched it for many minutes. He was 
 lying on his sofa, one hand half hidden in his thick 
 black hair, and supporting his white and wasted 
 forehead, while his lustrous eyes shone as if lighted 
 from within. His look was more than melancholy, 
 it was bitter; and Mrs. DalzelTs countenance grew 
 almost as sad as she watched him. She sat down, 
 and remarked that the carving was improving. 
 
 ' Yes,' he answered carelessly, as if the subject 
 did not interest him. 
 
 ' Where is Irene ? ' 
 
 1 AVith Madame Marriotti, of course.' 
 
 1 "What is the objection, Vincenzo ?' 
 
 ' None, that I know of.' 
 
 ' Except that you think that she does not want 
 you as much as she did formerly.' 
 
 ']So one wants me,' he answered, turning away 
 his head ; ' I am of no use to any one on earth.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell made no answer. He looked up 
 hastily to see the reason of her silence; her face
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 131 
 
 was full of compassion, and he resumed, as if, now 
 that he had begun, all the flood of pent-up bitter- 
 ness must have way. 'Irene has her music, she 
 is happy ; she has a future to look to, while I 
 lie here with this room for my world, and not a 
 single object in life. Each day the same story — 
 at war with myself, and with less strength every 
 hour for the fight. "What have I done that I 
 should be turned into a cripple, a burden to 
 every one ? Is it for any fault of mine or of my 
 father, or can a miserable, weary existence like 
 this be pleasing to Heaven ? I cannot live with- 
 out hope. I cannot cheat myself into cheer- 
 fulness ; I am growing bitter and despairing. I 
 have grown even jealous of my sister, the poor 
 child ! But you cannot understand all this.' 
 ' My dear boy, I can, for I have felt it.' 
 Vincenzo looked up in wonder at that kind, 
 calm face. He could not believe that Mrs. Dalzell 
 had ever experienced the hard sceptical despair 
 that gnawed his own heart. 
 
 1 You shall hear something of my history, Vin- 
 cenzo. I was an only child, the heiress of two 
 families ; perhaps there never was a girl more in- 
 dulged or more happy than I was ; and my marriage 
 only gave me another home, happier still, if pos- 
 sible. My husband was an officer in the Indian 
 army, at home on leave; when it expired, we went 
 out to India, and there I had two children. We 
 had to send them home in a few years, and I was 
 parted from them — that was my only sorrow, till 
 my health failed, and I was ordered back to Eng- 
 land. There was my old home ready to take me 
 in ; my dear mother was then alive. "We all lived 
 together, she and I and the boys. It was a house 
 
 k2
 
 13'2 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 on the sea-coast. One day — a bright summer's 
 day it was — my eldest boy went on the water with 
 three more, as gay as himself. I stood on the 
 balcony to see them start ; he was standing up, 
 waving his cap to me. No one ever knew how it 
 chanced, but the boat capsized — three were saved, 
 and one was drowned — that was my son. His 
 brother was a delicate boy, an invalid like you ; you 
 have many times reminded me of him. He lived 
 till two years ago, and then drooped and died. I 
 knew months before how it must be, and no one 
 can tell how the thought haunted me, How am I 
 to answer their father when he asks for his boys ? 
 but I need not have dwelt on that ; he never came 
 back to ask for them.' 
 
 Her voice died away, and a deadly paleness 
 settled on her face. Yincenzo murmured, ' Kilied 
 in the Indian wars ? ' 
 
 ' AVe heard nothing for months ; then came a 
 rumour that he had been seen up the country, but 
 he did not write — no, I knew he was dead ; I had 
 no hope ; and yet that waiting time was the hardest 
 trial of all. ¥e had certain news at last — he had 
 died of fever, with no one near him, but his native 
 servant. That is my history, Vincenzo. And yet,' 
 she added, after a long pause, ' I have found com- 
 fort and peace. At first — O Vincenzo ! nothing 
 that you feel can equal what I felt, undisciplined as 
 I was. Even now I dare not think of it. There 
 was one thought — the only one that really came 
 home to me, when my troubh s were made quite 
 intolerable by the miserable feeling that I learnt 
 from them only doubt and despair — it was, that for 
 a moment, our Lord found His cross too heavy to 
 bear, and I hoped that this might have been in
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 133 
 
 order to bid such as I am to take comfort, and 
 hope to be helped, even though we should sink 
 under ours. I came abroad at last, because my 
 friends said I ought ; I cared little about it, but the 
 change did me good, and here I found an interest 
 that has made life welcome to me again. 
 
 ' Thank you, signora,' said Yincenzo, with a 
 grateful look. 
 
 1 I see you are thinking that other people having 
 heavy trials does not lighten yours, Yincenzo ; but I 
 told you my history, because I think I can see now 
 what a year ago was all mystery to me, namely, why 
 these trials came. You will know, sooner or later, 
 why it is your lot to be a cripple, instead of an active 
 man; and meanwhile comfort yourself with thinking 
 that he who bears such a fate bravely, is as great 
 as a martyr — would have dared to be a martyr, had 
 he lived in the old days. Why pain and evil 
 exist, we cannot tell ; but we can very often wrest 
 a blessing from them. One word about Irene — 
 surely it is a sickly fancy that she loves you less — 
 is it not to you that she turns for sympathy in 
 everything ? If she were to come in at this mo- 
 ment, it would be to you, not me, that she would 
 tell the history of her morning.' 
 
 ' How long shall I have her, signora ? I can see 
 that it is Irene, not Yincenzo, whom Nota seeks.' 
 
 ' He will not steal her yet, and I think you owe 
 him some gratitude. You must make him tell 
 you his history.' Mrs. Dalzell repeated as much 
 of what had passed between herself and Leone, as 
 she could without breach of confidence, and Vin- 
 cenzo listened with much interest, saying, when 
 she had ended, ' I would gladly give her to him, 
 but what shall I be to her then ?'
 
 134 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Always her brother, Vincenzo. I don't say, 
 do not set your heart upon her, for I know that 
 the human mind, to be in a healthy state, must have 
 a future for itself or for some one else to look for- 
 ward to ; but you will yet have many interests, if 
 my experience is that of other people. And for 
 yourself — you ought not to think your carving 
 nothing ; it may not be as grand as what you had 
 formerly imagined; but it is very beautiful, and you 
 are a true artist.' 
 
 ' Few artists have had as good fortune as 1/ 
 said Vincenzo, taking up his tools again. ' Even 
 this is bespoken already. Did you see the gentle- 
 man who came to look at it ? Leone says it is 
 successful. What shall I do when you are gone, 
 signora ?' 
 
 ' I hope to come back next winter, you know, and 
 meanwhile you must take care of Irene. You are the 
 only person who can really guard her, for I don't 
 trust old Nanna. I told you about Leone, because 
 you had a right to know. You are Irene's real 
 guardian, young as you are.' 
 
 ' I have grown old of late, signora.' 
 
 ' Yes, perhaps that is true ; and I must say it is 
 fortunate that a girl, with such dangerous gifts as 
 Irene's, has a wise brother to take care of her.' 
 
 ' "Who could not get into mischief if he would,' 
 said Vincenzo, once more speaking gaily, but steal- 
 ing a marvelling look at Mrs. Dalzell, as if he could 
 not credit that one so uniformly cheerful, could 
 have passed through such heavy trials. He thought 
 long on the subject, trying to realize from whence 
 came the strength to bear them. He was inter- 
 rupted by a visitor. 
 
 "While Vincenzo and Mrs. Dalzell were talking,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 135 
 
 Irene had come back from her morning's lesson 
 with Madame Marriotti, and had fonnd on her table 
 once more a bnnch of flowers crowned by sl bit of 
 Jinocchio or fennel, which it is the custom in Eome, 
 at one particular time of year, for friends and lovers 
 to exchange ; each gathering a new piece daily for 
 six weeks, as all during that time a fresh branch must 
 be forthcoming wherever and whenever demanded, 
 and a ring, a bracelet, or some little gift is the 
 penalty for allowing it to wither. Of course the 
 exchange implies considerable intimacy, and Irene 
 was doubly indignant, first at the presumption of 
 the sender, and secondly at Xanna's evident trea- 
 chery. jSanna was not far oif, but hesitated to 
 appear. Irene called her in peremptory tones. 
 
 1 Xanna, what did you say when you took back 
 those other flowers ?' 
 
 1 Say ! what you told me, my darling ; but the 
 poor signor was so broken hearted — fit to throw 
 himself into the river — he weeps like a cut vine at 
 your cruelty. I cannot stir out but he sees me, 
 and beseeches me for news of you ; what could I 
 do ? There is no harm in flowers — he knows you 
 love flowers.' 
 
 ' It is of no use to talk to you,' said Irene, 
 whose anger turned into amusement, as Xanna 
 grew more and more pathetic ; ' but as Signora 
 Dalzell says, girls who feel they are trusted can be 
 trusted, and I know she never watches me, and 
 some one else trusts me too — so there — do you 
 see how much I care for flowers, INanna ?' and 
 leaning from the window, she tossed them into the 
 street below. 
 
 1 Child ! child ! are you mad ? The note and your 
 name !' shrieked Nanna, hurrying to stop her. It
 
 136 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 was too late. Irene stood aghast; the consequence 
 of her imprudence flashed upon her. 
 
 1 What about my name?' she asked, faintly. 
 
 1 It will be in the note ! and his own name too, 
 for aught I know !' exclaimed INanna ; ' any curious 
 fellow, who finds it under the window, will make 
 out who "Irene" is. See what you have done, 
 wrong-headed child ! Any other girl in Home 
 would have been grateful and have had a kind word 
 for him, and for the old nurse who risked so much 
 for her !' 
 
 ' Gro down and try to get it. No, it is too late ; 
 some one has picked it up, and there are at least 
 six people at the windows as usual,' said Irene, 
 despairingly, looking at the opposite houses, where 
 at half the windows, idlers were leaning. ' I sup- 
 pose they will say I threw it to him.' 
 
 She leant upon the window-sill in extreme an- 
 noyance — nay, in alarm. She would be supposed 
 to have dropped the flowers by accident, and the 
 note would be a cause for scandal and gossip for 
 ever. Suppose it should come to the ears of Mrs. 
 Dalzell ! Who could tell what were its contents ? 
 "While she was pursuing these very unpleasant 
 reflections, some one rang at the outer door, and 
 an unfamiliar voice exchanged question and answer 
 with Filomena. Irene did not notice it, for the 
 padrona's visitors always entered by the same door ; 
 but there was a momentary look in old JNanna's 
 face, as if it were not quite a new sound to her. 
 
 'Come, carina,' said she, 'tl^ere is no up-hill 
 without a down-hill; everything can be mended 
 except a broken neck ; don't vex yourself ; no 
 harm will come of it. Go to Vincenzo ; you have 
 not been near him since morning, and 'tis noon past !'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 137 
 
 1 Past twelve already !' said Irene, going away, 
 with a slight quick gesture, as if to shake off her 
 uneasy thoughts ; and she entered the sitting- 
 room. Yincenzo was not alone ; Mrs. Dalzell 
 still sat there, and a stranger was also present, 
 holding the lost flowers in his hand. He looked 
 round as Irene entered, and arose. She recog- 
 nised him in an instant, though the eyes that had 
 seemed to her black by night, now proved to be 
 of dark clear grey, but the face was as remarkably 
 pale as under the lights of the tapers at St. 
 Peter's ; and in the finely cut lips, shaded by a 
 slender black moustache, there was the same ex- 
 pression that had made her previously dislike it, and 
 call it an evil face. She stood confounded at seeing 
 him sitting there with the nosegay in his hand, 
 but she did not betray the thoughts that flashed 
 through her mind ; and her countenance expressed 
 nothing but surprise and a little haughtiness, as 
 Vincenzo said, ' Count Pierfrancesco Clementi has 
 done us the kindness of restoring some flowers 
 which you dropped, Irene.' 
 
 ' I had the good fortune to pass as they fell,' 
 said Clementi, in singularly musical tones ; ' I per- 
 ceived that they had been dropped by accident, and, 
 looking up, I recognised their owner. Twice, as I 
 was just telling your brother, I have had the pleasure 
 of seeing you before ; and, knowing that we were 
 neighbours, and, moreover, possess at least one 
 mutual acquaintance, I ventured to restore them 
 myself.' 
 
 Irene took the bouquet. She could hardly 
 believe her suspicions to be just ; for, though this 
 might be a mere pretext for making an acquain- 
 tance, he surely would not have run the risk of
 
 138 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Yincenzo's demanding whence the flowers came. 
 Her first impulse was to say that she had thrown 
 them away on purpose ; but Xanna had brought her 
 up, and such teaching had not been quite without ef- 
 fect, though Irene was naturally thoroughly frank. 
 An instinct of fear, of distrust, kept her back ; 
 she was uncertain what would be the consequences 
 of such a course ; but her thanks were brief, and 
 she rang the bell for Nanna, and watched her 
 closely when she entered. Clementi looked up as 
 the door opened, but perfect indifference reigned 
 on his face, when he saw only an old servant ; and 
 he resumed his conversation with Yincenzo. Irene 
 held out the flowers to Xanna, saying, low, ' Here 
 they are ; take them back — do you understand ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, my darling — who is that ? did he 
 bring them ?' asked the old woman, peering curi- 
 ously at Clementi. 
 
 1 1 think you might know, Xanna.' 
 
 1 1 ?' is he not a stranger ? Tell me,Jiglia.' > 
 
 ' Our neighbour, the contessa's son. Take 
 those horrible flowers away, Nanna/ 
 
 ' Why, Irene, you are not sending your flowers 
 away ?' said Yincenzo. ' Where did you get 
 them ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps the scent is too strong ; I think the 
 sender must have been English,' said Count 
 Clementi ; ' a Roman would have known better ; 
 I perceived that the odour was too powerful, and, 
 perhaps, after all, it was not dropped, siguorina, 
 but thrown away ?' 
 
 ' Yes, it was, signor,' replied Irene, lifting her 
 eyes to his ; but she could not read his face, only 
 she felt there was something hidden under the 
 mask of polite indifference.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 139 
 
 ' Poor Leone !' said Vincenzo, smiling ; ' I sus- 
 pect it was a Roman, after all, who sent them ; 
 but Count Clementi will not betray how you 
 treated his gift.' 
 
 ' Is the signor a friend of Leone ?' asked Irene, 
 with surprise. 
 
 1 1 can hardly claim that honour, though an 
 honour I should esteem it, but we are, at least, 
 acquaintances, though our opinions differ — ' he 
 cast a glance of an instant on the books on the 
 table ; ' and I have, hitherto, had no opportunity 
 of knowing which may be in the right, he or I.' 
 
 1 That cannot be Leone's fault ; he is frank 
 enough ; he has his opinions written on his face,' 
 said Vincenzo, smiling, and alluding to the beard 
 which had become at that time a sort of party 
 sign, and was sufficient to mark all who wore it as 
 mauvais sujets in the eyes of the Government. 
 
 1 He has nothing to lose,' said Clementi, in a 
 tone so quiet that the sneer was hardly percep- 
 tible ; but it stung Irene, who answered, with a 
 blush of displeasure, ' Every man has his liberty 
 to lose. I only wish Signor Nota had more to 
 peril, that every one might see how exactly he 
 would still speak and think as he now does.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell smiled, and Vincenzo said, as if in 
 apology for Irene's warmth, ' My sister will never 
 hear a word against an absent friend/ 
 
 'I no longer think that Xota has nothing to lose, 
 since he possesses such an advocate; but, signorina, 
 you must not judge too harshly those who hold 
 opinions contrary to your own. I was brought up 
 by my uncle, whose name you doubtless know [a 
 suppressed smile flitted over Vincenzo's face, as 
 he thought of the torrents of abuse he had heard
 
 140 MADEMOISELLE MOKI. 
 
 k 
 
 Cecchi pour on that uncle] ; all my feelings ought 
 to be, yes, ought to be engaged on the ruling side. 
 I am, by birth and education, a Papista, as you 
 would say ; though I have taken no part in poli- 
 tics, and really know little about them.' 
 
 ' In fact, you, like Irene, defend the absent,' 
 said Yincenzo. 
 
 ' I must ; and you may understand that, though 
 I may feel that there is some justice in the popular 
 outcry, I must shut my ears against it — gratitude 
 and affection both bind me.' 
 
 ' And interest,' thought Vincenzo ; and he could 
 not forbear adding, ' Gratitude and affection have 
 little to do with public questions.' 
 
 Irene looked uneasy, aud Mrs. Dalzell longed 
 to change the subject, for even she had learned 
 how unsafe was such talk ; but Count Clementi 
 eagerly pursued, ' You are right, our country has 
 claims superior to all others : already, unwelcome 
 as my doubts are, I do not think exactly as I did 
 a year ago ; but you must perceive how difficult 
 it is for me to see more than one side of the ques- 
 tion, far more so than for you — you have means 
 unattainable to me. This book, for instance ; I 
 have often wished to read it, but I could not get 
 it here ; I cannot imagine how you did.' 
 
 ' An English person lent it to me,' answered 
 Yincenzo, glad to shelter himself under that shield, 
 and rejoiced that Leone was not the owner ; for it 
 was one so strictly prohibited, that an Italian would 
 hardly have ventured to posses -. it. 
 
 ' Lent — it is not yours ? I must not beg for it, 
 then?' 
 
 ' You know the risk you run in taking it ? ' 
 
 1 1 don't think there is much more danger
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 141 
 
 for Alonsignore dementi's nephew than for you 
 English,' replied the count ; and for once Irene 
 did not indignantly claim to be an Italian. 
 
 He took it with an eagerness that made Yin- 
 cenzo smile, and say, ' I suspect you are more of a 
 Carbonaro than you choose to own.' 
 
 ' No, not yet,' replied Clementi, taking up the 
 volume ; ' perhaps you may convert me. You will 
 allow me to return this in person ?' 
 
 1 If you will have the charity to come and see 
 me again,' said Yincenzo, cordially ; and the visitor 
 took leave, with a mere formal farewell to Mrs. 
 Dalzell and Irene, at whom he had looked little, 
 and whom he had only addressed when courtesy 
 seemed to require it. She became thoughtful as 
 he departed, and absently answered Yincenzo's 
 questions as to whether she liked their new ac- 
 quaintance. He had perplexed her, and she did not 
 believe that Nanna would plot against her to such 
 an extent as must have been the case, if he were 
 the sender of the flowers ; and yet she regretted 
 that he was to come again, and said she did not 
 like him. And how could Yincenzo talk in such 
 an English way ? 
 
 ' I am afraid I was not very prudent,' he an- 
 swered ; ' but the truth is, a new face is a treat 
 to me. AYe will ask Leone about him. I never 
 heard Cecchi say anything about the nephew ; it 
 is the uncle whom he abhors, and who, he says, 
 maintains spies all over Eome. Eancy if we could 
 make a convert of the count, Irene ! AYe shall 
 yet see him with as black a beard as Leone wears !' 
 
 ' I only hope he is not a spy himself,' said she, 
 again inclined to tell Yincenzo of her doubts, and 
 again rejecting the idea.
 
 142 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' "Why, he told us his opinions frankly enough ; 
 any one must know that he is a Papista. But he 
 seemed ready to hear truth ; he made no secret 
 of his opinions.' 
 
 ' ]So, he made no secret of anything, and that 
 is just what seems to me suspicious. Who talks in 
 that way to strangers except English people ?' 
 
 ' Oh, he knew we were Protestants, and half 
 English ; of course, that made a dhTerence.' 
 
 ' I am nothing but Italian when I think of 
 Italy,' said Irene, unconsciously assuming a manner 
 so like that of Kota that Yincenzo could not refrain 
 from a smiling glance at Mrs. Dalzell ; but he was 
 prudent enough to suppress the remark, that 
 she was prejudiced by Clementi's observation on 
 Leone. 
 
 Irene was subjected to a close examination from 
 Kanna, when next she saw her, as to whether it 
 really were the Signor Conte; what she thought of 
 him, and if he were coming again ; but the thought 
 evidently underlying these questions did not in- 
 crease her suspicions, since, from her babyhood, 
 Kanna had constantly looked forward to her mar- 
 riage. Mrs. Dalzell had, indeed, done a good deed 
 in taking her out of Nanna's hands. Unscrupu- 
 lous, guarrulous, unprincipled, the old woman was 
 enough to ruin any girl, and the wonder was that 
 Irene had escaped so well ; but her nurse's teach- 
 ing had been greatly counteracted by her father's, 
 who had given her the same kind of training as 
 he had himself received in childhood from his 
 simple, unworldly old aunt — to please him had 
 always been a great object with her — and before 
 she could speak plain she had learnt that, though 
 Kanna saw no harm in a lie, it was the one thing
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 143 
 
 that 'papa' would not forgive. She had been 
 taken almost entirely out of JNanna's reach since 
 Mrs. Dalzell had had anything to do with her, 
 and had, unconsciously, imbibed the refinement 
 and English principles of her kind friend, while 
 Banna's influence proportionably diminished. 
 
 Irene did not feel quite satisfied with herself; 
 she wished she had told all she knew about the 
 flowers ; and when she went to Mrs. Dalzell' s 
 sitting-room to bid her good night, there was 
 something unusual in her friend's manner which 
 startled her, and she hastily concluded that Mrs. 
 Dalzell was displeased with her. She began at 
 once, ' I don't think Leone sent me the flowers, 
 signora — I do not know whence they came.' 
 
 " It is of no great importance, I dare say,' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell, rather absently ; ' good night, my 
 dear.' 
 
 Irene was perplexed, and retired in silence, and 
 Mrs. Dalzell pressed her hand again on her eyes 
 with a deep sigh. Though she had spoken bravely 
 and cheerfully to Yincenzo, his words had awakened 
 an echo in her own heart — had recalled the anguish 
 which she hoped was stilled or gone. She dis- 
 covered, with a sort of dismay, that there it was 
 still — the old pain — would nothing, nothing, nei- 
 ther change nor time, banish it ? She had felt all 
 that he described, and more — much that she shrank 
 from recollecting. She called up all the thoughts 
 that could calm and strengthen her, bade herself 
 remember how similar paroxysms of mental pain 
 had overcome her before, and had been slowly van- 
 quished, as this would be — she would not give way 
 now. But it was long before she could command 
 herself sufficiently to resume any occupation. More
 
 Ill MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 than an hour had passed, and still she was sitting 
 in the same attitude, lost in sorrowful thought. 
 A quick tap at the door startled her. 
 
 " Come in !' she said, hastily brushing away the 
 traces of tears and taking up her work, and the 
 door opened, and Madama Cecchi appeared in full 
 costume of Louis Quatorze, looking exceedingly 
 handsome, with her hair turned back over a cushion, 
 and powdered ; strings of pearls round her neck 
 and arms, a scarlet silk shirt, and white petticoat, 
 and a flowing saccule of blue, trimmed with white 
 fur. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell looked at her wonderstruck, quite 
 forgetting that the padrona had announced to her 
 that she was going that night to a masked ball. 
 
 1 Here I am, come to present myself to my dear 
 signora '.' said she joyously, holding up her black 
 silk mask. ' What does she think ? Am I as I 
 should be ? Does my dress please her?' 
 
 ' Very handsome, indeed, and very becoming,' 
 said Mrs. Dalzell ; and it was a fact that the strong 
 contrast of hues did admirably set off the fresh and 
 lively countenance of the Eoman matron, who 
 chanced to be fair and blue eyed, but had all the 
 stateliness and portliness of lier fellow-towns- 
 women. 
 
 ' But, signora, I thought you were morta al 
 tnondo V 
 
 1 Bah !' said Madama Cecchi, laughing. ' So I 
 am — I never go anywhere ; I lead the life of a 
 snail, an oyster, a coral- wo; m, signora ! What 
 would you have ! It is to please my sister that I 
 go to-night. Xino is going, too ; I went down on 
 my knees to persuade him ; I said, " \Vhere will 
 be mv character, if I go without you?" and he
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 145 
 
 goes. Nino ! Ni ! come, and let the signora see 
 you.' 
 
 Nino appeared, masked in a domino, looking so 
 comical that Mrs. Dalzell could not help laughing. 
 
 ' I wish you a pleasant evening, signor.' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to his 
 wife. ' It is her doing — not mine.' 
 
 ' "Well, suppose it is ! "Would you live like 
 St. Alessio, or St. Onofrio, or St. Antonio l'Ab- 
 bate ? Oh, these men, signora, these men ! I had 
 to break my heart before he would promise to go ; 
 he was as a flint — a rock of granite to my en- 
 treaties. And you go nowhere, signora mia ! 
 You spend all your time in industry ; it is a marvel 
 to see. Come, Nino. Good night, dear signora ; 
 a most happy night to you !' 
 
 ' A rivederla — -felicissima nottef said Cecchi, bow- 
 ing, and closing the door, leaving Mrs. Dalzell 
 smiling. 
 
 The apparition had, at all events, dispersed her 
 sad thoughts ; she was not at all inclined now to 
 sit down and be melancholy ; besides, it was full 
 time for people who were not going to masked 
 balls, to go to rest. 
 
 YOL. I.
 
 146 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Fidare e un buoii uomo ; Nontifidare e meglio. 
 
 Proverb. 
 
 WHEN Leone next appeared, Vincenzo asked 
 for information respecting Count Clementi. 
 Leone, who considered Vincenzo and Irene as his 
 own peculiar and especial friends, was far from 
 being pleased to hear of their new acquaintance ; 
 and thought with dismay of the possibility of a rival 
 appearing on the scene. He had little information 
 to give, except that Clementi had of late sought 
 his acquaintance ; Cecchi, who was present, added 
 that the count had likewise made advances towards 
 himself; and both joined in marvelling what could 
 be the motive, since every one knew he must be a 
 Papista, as the nephew of one who was known as 
 the greatest opponent of progress and champion of 
 old abuses in the whole Roman hierarchy, the sug- 
 gester of all the new oppressive measures, and the 
 persecutor of every one who held liberal opinions. 
 Many a tale of tyranny was current respecting 
 Monsignore Clementi, who was very high in the 
 Pope'sgood graces, and on the fairway to be speedily 
 a cardinal. How the Romans hated him! Even 
 Cecchi hardly surpassed Leone in detestation of 
 this man, whose conduct had gone far to open the 
 eyes of the people to the vices of existing institu- 
 tions, and to destroy the hereditary reverence for
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 147 
 
 age. It had oozed out that he had been the origin- 
 ator of an order (acted on but too thoroughly), 
 that whenever a liberal was convicted of any 
 offence, the utmost punishment contemplated by 
 the law should invariably be inflicted. He was 
 the very soul of the Sanfedists, that sect more 
 dreaded than a band of brigands by peaceable men ; 
 that sect which, originally founded to aid the Eoman 
 Government, speedily became its master, and ruled 
 the whole Papal States by spy, sword, and exile, a 
 very reign of terror. 
 
 It was hard to credit that the nephew of this 
 man, entirely dependent on him for all his pros- 
 pects, could have any leaning to the liberal side, yet 
 Cecchi and Xota were eager to believe so. It would 
 be a triumph indeed ! Cecchi thought it was pos- 
 sible that Clementi might be a liberal at heart, 
 but that he hesitated to avow it, lest he should lose 
 the good graces of his uncle ; and he exhorted 
 Vincenzo to lose no opportunity of discovering if 
 it were so. Xota saw there must be an acquain- 
 tance, and could find no objection, except the one 
 which he did not choose to avow. He had nothing 
 to say against it, but he would have liked to throw 
 Count Clementi into the Tiber. 
 
 The count appeared again in Vincenzo's sit- 
 ting-room, after a sufficient time had elapsed for 
 studying the book which he had borrowed ; he 
 carried oft* another, and had much talk with Vin- 
 cenzo, which increased the latter' s hopes not a little. 
 One visit led to another, and sometimes Leone, 
 sometimes Cecchi were present, till a considerable 
 intimacy sprang up between them all. Vincenzo 
 entirely believed in his new friend, who only very 
 gradually vielded to his arguments, and Xota and 
 
 l 2
 
 148 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Cecclii had both so much confidence in Vincenzo's 
 judgment, so much calmer and cooler than their 
 own, that they were inclined to believe whatever he 
 asserted ; but habitual caution made them slow to 
 trust, and there were many meetings before any 
 free expression of opinion was elicited. 
 
 Something of confidence sprang up at last, apro- 
 pos of an article in the Times on the prospects of 
 Italy. It had been copied by Galignani, but the 
 police had taken care to cut it out of every copy at 
 the libraries. Mrs. Dalzell who happened to have 
 the Times itself sent to her from England, gave the 
 article to Irene to read, and she translated it into 
 Italian for the benefit of Cecchi and his wife. 
 Count Clementi and Leone came in, in the midst, 
 and she was entreated to begin again. There were 
 ardent glances exchanged as she read, and almost 
 before she had concluded, Cecchi burst forth into 
 comments and approval, and an animated discussion 
 instantly sprang up, which soon became merged 
 in dreams of Italy's future, so wild, so enthusiastic, 
 so impossible, that it seemed as if none of them 
 had any recollection of Italy's past. Any one who 
 had seen the party, their ardent looks, words, and 
 gestures, Vincenzo's pale face lighted up with 
 excitement, Irene's inspired eyes, and Madama 
 Cecchi's impetuosity adding fuel to the flame — any 
 who had seen how men, women, even frail invalids, 
 joined with one heart and soul in the national 
 cause — and these were but types of hundreds of 
 others — must have believed that a glorious work 
 would be done, that some new era was about to dawn. 
 
 Nota and Clementi took leave at the same time, 
 but the count, instead of going to his own part of 
 the palace, said he was expected at a friend's house,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 149 
 
 and accompanied Leone for a little way. They 
 walked for some time in silence through the grass- 
 grown piazza, where the palace cast a shadow as 
 huge as a mountain, and into the street of the 
 Ripetta. The moon shone in a broad track on 
 the river, creating that lovely tremolar delVonde 
 which Dante celebrated ; the plash of the fountain 
 came refreshingly on the ear ; in the warm spring 
 night, the streets were almost as full as by day ; 
 groups continually went by, singing and conversing, 
 and the voices seemed to rise up between the tall 
 houses which cast their thick dark shadows on each 
 side as if in a mountain gorge. The count and 
 Leone turned again into a narrow side street where 
 was entire silence and desertion, a strange contrast 
 to the one they had just left ; and as they passed a 
 dark archway a herd of wild dogs rushed out, 
 without however attempting to attack them, and 
 coursed at full speed down the street. 
 
 Clementi was the first to speak. ' We have had 
 a strange evening,' he said ; ' I feel as if I had 
 been a traitor, and yet I cannot but own that 
 young Mori had the best of the argument. What 
 a cool, clear head he has — a thorough Englishman, 
 I fancy.' 
 
 ' You mean to give him another opportunity of 
 converting you soon,' said Leone, referring to an 
 appointment which he had heard Yincenzo and the 
 count make as they parted. 
 
 Clementi did not reply for a moment. Then 
 looking at Leone with a slight smile — ' I am more 
 disinterested than you ; for I gain nothing, and lose 
 much, if I take the liberal side.' 
 
 'What do I gain?' asked Leone, quickly. 
 
 1 What you think a high reward, my friend,
 
 150 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 such a look from Signorina Irene's dark eyes as 
 met you this evening. Forewarned, forearmed ; 
 I waste no time in seeking love where there is 
 none to give.' 
 
 Leone was silent ; for though he knew well that 
 Irene only regarded him as a friend, it was not 
 wonderful that he should be slow to say so, and 
 Count dementi's words were welcome in every way. 
 
 ' Come,' said Clementi, who had been reading 
 his face with his own penetrating, inscrutable 
 eyes, ' let us meet as friends ; I do not ask to 
 know your secrets, but there is no occasion for 
 you to stiletto me as your rival, which I am not, 
 and should find it vain to seek to be, even if I 
 could marry as I please. My prospects would 
 be singularly diminished if I should present a 
 heretic to my uncle ! Addio, we part here ; addio, 
 mio caro? 
 
 They parted cordially. Leone was of an unsus- 
 picious nature, and Clementi's words removed a 
 weight from his mind. He had not proceeded 
 many paces when he was joined by a friend, who 
 came rapidly up to him, uttering his name. 
 
 1 Ha ! Luigi — well met ! ' said Nota. 
 
 ' You are just in time to go with me to Casa 
 Olivetti,' said the other, passing his arm through 
 Leone's, with a warning pressure which pre- 
 vented Nota from pleading as an objection his 
 want of acquaintance with the family. ' I am on 
 my way there.' Then, in very low tones, ' Have 
 you heard that Honati has be^n arrested ?' 
 
 ' Arrested ! ' replied Leone, with a start of con- 
 sternation, as the colour left his dark cheek. 
 
 ' This morning. Beware — we are watched ; 
 don't look round. Hid you see that you were fol- 
 lowed?'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. ]51 
 
 1 1 suspected as much. On what charge was 
 Donati ?' 
 
 ' Cerigo sent me word privately : I know little, 
 except that political papers and copies of certain 
 poems were found on him ; and the police are all 
 on the qui vive to discover the author. He denied 
 all knowledge of them.' 
 
 1 Is it on those grounds ? ' asked Leone, with 
 agitation. 
 
 I No, no, on my honour. They had nothing to 
 do with the business ; it was an imprudent speech 
 on Austrian affairs, made in the Cafe Greco.' 
 
 ' Is it certain, Eavelli ? Are you positive ?' 
 
 I I give you my word it was. You cannot help 
 him ; don't be a madman. I tell you it was his 
 own rashness ; don't go and put your own head 
 in the noose. Where are your copies ?' 
 
 Leone touched his forehead. 
 
 ' That's well ; you will fiud that they have been 
 searching your room. I have been watching for 
 you ever since I had a hint of what was going on. 
 Where have you been ? Who was the man I saw 
 with you just now ?' 
 
 ' Count Clementi,' said Leone, unable to help 
 smiling at the irrepressible astonishment depicted 
 on the features of his friend — features too gay and 
 handsome for one engaged in a conspiracy. 
 
 ' Count Clementi — ah!" repeated Eavelli, aloud ; 
 then, resuming his former hushed tone, ' let all 
 the police in Eome hear it, by all means. Are 
 you certain there is nothing in your desk that can 
 betray you ? They seem to have got on the right 
 scent, somehow.' 
 
 Leone's brow was knitted. He felt that the in- 
 stant of which he had spoken to Mrs. Dalzell might
 
 152 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 be near ; the gulf had swallowed up one of his 
 friends ; his own turn might come next. 
 
 * Nothing — but suspicion is enough. I know 
 their eyes have been on me this loug while. "Well, 
 there are few to miss me. Poor Donati V 
 
 ' Ay — Cerigo will let me know the sentence 
 soon — exile, 1 suppose ; or possibly our paternal 
 Government may be satisfied with perpetual im- 
 prisonment — not a heavy price to pay for speak- 
 ing a little truth once in a way. Here we are, 
 come in.' 
 
 As they mounted the stairs of Casa Olivetti, 
 Ravelli suddenly stopped and turned to his com- 
 panion with a burst of laughter. ' Corpo cli Bacco, 
 my friend, you chose your companion well ! Tou 
 could not have done better, unless you had had the 
 uncle instead of the nephew ! I hope that ras- 
 cally spy who was following you saw him ! You 
 must tell me by-and-bye how it chanced.' 
 
 'Weathercock that you are, Luigi!' said Leone, 
 smiling, but unable to shake off the impression of 
 what he had just heard, as readily as his light- 
 hearted friend had done. ' Xow, how are you going 
 to explain my presence here ?' 
 
 * Easily enough,' answered Ravelli, opening the 
 door of a room wherein sat an elderly man, busied 
 in extracting such scanty information as is afforded 
 by the Roman Gazette ; a lady at work, and a 
 pretty, dark-eyed child, seated on a stool at her 
 feet, and resting against her, while she wound a 
 skein of silk. All three lool'jd up with a smile 
 of welcome, as Ravelli appeared, and Leone was 
 received with ready cordiality when introduced as 
 his friend. It was his first introduction to the 
 Olivetti family ; his first near view of the pretty 
 Imelda, his friend Luigi' s destined bride ; but he
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 153 
 
 was too much disturbed by what he had just 
 learnt, to wish to linger at Casa Olivetti, and, 
 staving no longer than ceremony required, he 
 soon took his leave. 
 
 1 Rather death than exile !' he muttered to him- 
 self, as he was returning to his solitary home. 
 ■ Exile !' he looked round with a long gaze. 
 1 Xever to see my Rome, nor to hear my own 
 Italian ! I should not however be alone — truly, 
 I need not fear that ; I should find fellow-exiles 
 wherever I went ; our Government has taken care 
 of that ! There is a chance of imprisonment too. 
 Xo. I should not make a Silvio Pellico — well, we 
 shall see how it turns out.' 
 
 He mounted to his own room, nearly at the top 
 of the house. It was scantily furnished, and its 
 only ornaments were a small bust of Dante, and 
 an engraving from Ary Scheffer's ' Christus Con- 
 solator.' Perhaps, among those seeking consola- 
 tion, in that figure holding up chained hands, 
 Leone saw his country ! 
 
 There was a view from the window worthy of a 
 poet ; a dark group of cypresses and pines stood 
 doubly dark in the moonlight, which lit np Santa 
 Maria "Maggiore, and shone on the distant Coli- 
 seum, and cast long gleams over the Campagna. 
 Leone was apt to spend many a night hour at 
 that open window ; but he had other more press- 
 ing thoughts just then. He looked keenly round ; 
 there was no trace of a search. Yes — a moment's 
 inspection showed him that his bureau had been 
 examined, his books moved ; and, behold ! several 
 German works on geology, acquired with infinite 
 difficulty, had vanished, — gone, no doubt, to bear 
 witness against him as a student of that heretical 
 science ! A smile, at once sad, scornful, and tri-
 
 154 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 umphant, came to Leone's lips. He knew that 
 after all he was stronger than any ruler ; he had 
 spoken true words, which were written on the 
 hearts of the people ; he had uttered what was 
 stirriug inarticulately in the breast of hundreds. 
 Though his voice might be silenced in the grave, 
 or a prison silent as the grave, those words would 
 be remembered — he had not lived in vain. He 
 paced rapidly up and down the room, and then 
 stopped and looked out on the landscape. ' "Why 
 there !' he soliloquized, ' there stretches the Cam- 
 pagna, as peacefully as if no enemy had ever 
 trampled it, no blood ever watered its turf. It 
 looks solid enough ; one would not guess that 
 it was undermined by the Catacombs. The city 
 too — quiet as any Monsignore Clementi would 
 wish it ! Who would suppose there were death 
 and tears, and plots and counterplots, under those 
 roofs ? Why, under that very one, where the 
 moon shines brightest on the windows, are Do- 
 nates wife and mother! Any man but a ruler 
 would hear how the cry of the oppressed is rising 
 up to heaven — ay, it will be heard there, and 
 all the world shall know that it has been heard \' 
 he exclaimed aloud, turning as if in appeal to the 
 picture on the wall. The mild, steadfast look of 
 the chief figure seemed to meet his own ; he re- 
 garded it long and earnestly, then, suddenly turn- 
 ing away, took down a book from a shelf, lighted 
 a lamp, and sat reading far into the night. 
 
 Succeeding days brought no new misfortune. 
 Ravelli contrived to learn that the sentence of 
 Donati was imprisonment, though, like all other 
 trials for political offences, it had been secret, and 
 his fate was only surmised by his friends. His
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 155 
 
 advocate, Cerigo, moreover, paid the penalty of hav- 
 ing defended him too warmly, by being suspended 
 from practising his business for two months — a 
 warning to the next lawyer who might be chosen 
 to advocate the cause of a liberal. Leone went 
 out and in, and continued his daily occupations 
 with a sensation as if a sword were hanging over 
 his head ; but once more he escaped, though he 
 received an official admonition that the police had 
 their eye on him — a state of things which caused 
 him no additional anxiety, as he had for some time 
 known it to be the case. 
 
 . He reflected long before he could decide where, 
 with any prudence, he could for the future keep 
 writings. His own room was manifestly unsafe ; 
 he would not let any friend run the risk. Tes, 
 there was one — one who, though Italian by birth, 
 was, in fact, English, and as such was strongly pro- 
 tected — Yincenzo Moore. There was little fear 
 of the police examining his possessions, and none 
 that he might be secretly arrested. He was the 
 man ! if he should be willing, after full explanation, 
 to be mixed up in the matter. 
 
 Leone speedily had an opportunity of telling 
 him. Madama Cecchi had long been dying to 
 reveal to Irene and Yincenzo his powers as an im- 
 provisatore, and one evening entreated him to let 
 them hear him. He laughed, and bade her give 
 him a subject, and she named the ' Challenge of 
 Barletta,' one calculated to inspire even the least 
 patriotic of Italians. It called out all Leone's 
 power, and both Yincenzo and Irene exclaimed, 
 wonderstruck, ' Leone ! Leone ! it must be you 
 who write the poems about which everybody is 
 speculating ! It is ! it must be ! how blind never
 
 156 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 to have guessed it before !' Madama Cecchi looked 
 triumphant, though a little alarmed ; but the dis- 
 closure led to full confidence between the two 
 young men. 
 
 This new interest compensated, in some mea- 
 sure, for the departure of Mrs. Dalzell, which, long 
 talked of and often delayed, came at last. She 
 was reluctant to go ; she owed much to Eome, and 
 England was full of painful associations, but there 
 was no choice for her. She lingered till June was 
 come, and nearly every English person had left 
 Eome ; but the day fixed for her departure came 
 at last. There were promises on all sides of a con- 
 stant correspondence, which were kept, as far as 
 she and Yincenzo were concerned. Irene wrote 
 occasionally ; when she did, her letters were a rap- 
 ture of music and politics ; she seemed thoroughly 
 happy, and Leone must have kept his promise, for 
 she always spoke of him with the same frank 
 liking as of Count Clementi, whom she reported 
 to have become gradually absorbed into the popular 
 side, and consequently to be out of favour with 
 his uncle. 
 
 Madame Marriotti, the most uncertain of cor- 
 respondents, sometimes sent a voluminous epistle, 
 was sometimes mute for months ; whenever she 
 did write, she spoke of Irene with exceeding pride. 
 Mrs. Dalzell began to fear that she made her 
 work too hard, and frequently reminded her how 
 many singers had failed from having overtasked 
 their strength; a warning which Madame Marriotti 
 treated with sovereign contempt, and which Mrs. 
 Dalzell herself would have considered unnecessary, 
 could she have seen how full of life, health, and 
 spirits the once delicate girl had become, thriving
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 157 
 
 on bard work and excitement, and daily looking 
 more joyous. 
 
 "When Mrs. Dalzell left Rome, slie had pur- 
 posed returning for the next winter, and answered 
 Irene's tearful ' Addict* with ' A rivederti ;' but it 
 so happened that family affairs detained her in 
 England ; and nearly three years elapsed before 
 the last view of Irene, bending forward and waving 
 an adieu, was to be effaced by her cheerful wel- 
 come.
 
 ]58 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 To-day the doors and windows 
 
 Are hung with garlands all, 
 From Castor in the Forum 
 
 To Mars without the wall. 
 
 Macatjlay. 
 
 THE three years which elapsed before Mrs. Dal- 
 zell returned to Borne were brim full of those 
 events which promised to realize even the most 
 Utopian dreams of the Italians, beginning from 
 the day when the unquiet reign of Gregory XVI. 
 ended, and that of the Cardinal Bishop, Mastai 
 Eerretti, began. 
 
 The Romans knew little of him ; his early life, 
 though one of self-denial and peril, had not 
 been more remarkable than that of many mis- 
 sionaries. As a young man he had sought to 
 enter the Guardia Nobile, but was rejected on 
 account of ill-health, which soon ended in a dan- 
 gerous illness ; recovering from which ' by the in- 
 tercession of the Holy Virgin,' to use the words 
 of one of his biographers, ' he proved his gratitude 
 by consecrating himself to her service,' became 
 an ecclesiastic, and was sent to Peru and Mexico. 
 Trials awaited him and his companions on first 
 setting out ; they were thrown into prison by the 
 Spaniards at Majorca, attacked by corsairs, in 
 danger in violent storms by sea ; , hunger, thirst, 
 and weariness awaited them in the prairies of 
 South America, where once they found no other
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 159 
 
 shelter than a deserted hut built of bones, round 
 which an odour of decay still liugered ; and finally" 
 their mission being rendered vain through the 
 jealousies of those in power, they returned to 
 Rome. 
 
 Pio VII., who had protected Mastai, was dead; 
 but Leo XII. extended to him the same favour, 
 and gave him the Archbishopric of Spoleto, whence 
 he was translated to Imola. In 1841 he was made 
 a cardinal, but remained at Imola ; aud so the Ro- 
 mans had hardly heard of him till, in 1846, he 
 was elected Pope. He chose the name of Pio in 
 grateful memory of his first patron, and he in- 
 herited all the difficulties which former Popes had 
 postponed and complicated. Amongst the eager 
 speculations as to who the new Pope would be, no 
 one had dreamed of Cardinal Mastai, and at first 
 there was a little coldness and disappointment 
 shown ; but his first measure, namely, the amnesty 
 to those languishing in exile and prison for poli- 
 tical offences, at once aroused that frenzy of en- 
 thusiasm which for a time intoxicated both Pontiff 
 and people. 
 
 The events passing at Borne had been trumpeted 
 by every journal in Europe, but Mrs. Dalzell had 
 a special correspondent in Yincenzo, who gave her 
 still earlier and more accurate information, and 
 it was with a feeling of interest and expectation 
 quite unallied to those she had experienced on 
 her first arrival, that she re-entered Borne on the 
 night of the 7th of September, 1847. There was just 
 moonlight enough to give a glimpse of the Tiber 
 as she crossed the bridge, and to show where rose 
 St. Angelo ; and her fancy seemed already to dis- 
 cern among the distant buildings the palace roof
 
 160 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 under which slept Irene and Yincenzo. They 
 little guessed who was in the carriage that rattled 
 under their window. It was too late to visit them 
 that night, and they did not expect her ; she had 
 left England at very short notice for the sake of 
 travelling with friends, and had arrived by sea. 
 A weary journey the land route from Civita Vecchia 
 had been, along the sandy plains, where reeds, as- 
 phodel, and tamarisk shared the ground between 
 them ; and the flat country had a desolate look, 
 like some of the ugliest parts of England, and a 
 cheerful thing she found it to alight at the com- 
 fortable hotel in the familiar Piazza di Spagna, 
 and be at once installed in her apartment. 
 
 By a little past ten o'clock the next morning 
 she was on her way to the old palace, which had 
 been her home for so many months, and where 
 she hoped again to find a lodging ; but scarcely was 
 she in the street before she perceived that more 
 was going on than was accounted for by the festa, 
 of which her courier had warned her. At such an 
 hour Eoman streets are seldom very full ; it is 
 chiefly the higher classes who are abroad, while later 
 in the day comes the holiday time of the impiegati, 
 the many who are employed in shops, in warehouses, 
 and professions ; but on this morning, high and 
 low were in the streets ; the shops were all shut, 
 bouquets might be bought at every corner, the 
 country people were flocking in, in their brilliant 
 costumes, and all faces were turned towards the 
 Corso. Mrs. Dalzell happened to be going in that 
 direction, but when she reached the Corso, she found 
 it was impossible to cross ; in the palmiest days of 
 the carnival never had it been so much thronged. 
 A dense crowd lined it from end to end with eager,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 161 
 
 expectant faces, and there was a ceaseless hum of 
 animated voices ; on every story of every house, all 
 the windows were wide open and full of heads. 
 From one and all waved draperies of scarlet, white, 
 or yellow, mixed with wreaths of box and myrtle ; 
 the whole people were gathered together, waiting 
 for a great event. 
 
 Every one was far too much excited and ab- 
 sorbed to spare a moment's thought to Mrs. 
 Dalzell, and her servant found it perfectly impos- 
 sible to make way for her. His strong hand and 
 voice at last extorted an answer to his question of 
 what was going on. The woman, whom he addressed, 
 opened her large eyes, and exclaimed, ' Are you a 
 Pagan, then, that you don't know it is the feast of 
 Maria Santissima, and that the Pope goes to the 
 Popolo ?' At the same instant, like a rising tide, 
 swelled out the acclamation, rolling like thunder 
 down the Corso where the triumphal arch rose in 
 the distant piazza — one universal voice — ' The 
 Pope comes — the Pope comes — Viva our Pope ! 
 viva Pio Xono !' and the mighty throng fell with 
 one accord on their knees to welcome him who had 
 said, ' Blessed be Italy !' while passionate tears, 
 shed not by women only, but by men old and 
 young, testified to the adoration with which the 
 Ninth Pius was regarded by his Romans. The 
 long procession came slowly down the Corso, be- 
 tween the double line of people, a single mounted 
 soldier preceded it. Such a sight had never been 
 seen before; for, on ordinary occasions, the cardiuals 
 meet the Pope at Santa Maria del Popolo ; but to 
 do honour to the new Pontiff, and to please the 
 people, they had on this day with one accord 
 sought the Quirinal, and escorted him thence, each 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 cardinal in his state coach, followed by one contain- 
 ing his attendants. Bound that wherein sat Pio 
 Nono, placid and smiling as he blessed the throng, 
 were his gallant and handsome guard. Down 
 came wreaths of flowers from every window as 
 they passed, till they were piled high on the Pope's 
 carriage — the cardinals followed in long succession, 
 and ever more enthusiastically rose the shout ' Viva, 
 viva il Papa ! viva Pio Nono !' 
 
 But there was a suppressed undertone of angry 
 dissatisfaction, as the coaches of the cardinals 
 passed before the eyes of the people, and the dark 
 scowling faces within were seen. Some of these 
 dignitaries leant back, and seemed to hear and see 
 nothing ; others frowned grimly, and all, with but 
 two exceptions, looked rather like wrathful cap- 
 tives dragged after a triumphal car, than like men 
 who were sympathizing in the general gladness. 
 They heard the murmurs with darkening looks ; 
 two only had a cheerful and well-pleased aspect, 
 and looked round as if the scene were delightful 
 to them. These were men well known for their 
 liberal opinions, and believed to be the Pope's 
 chief advisers ; and certain it is, that after the 
 death of one, and in the absence of the other, a 
 striking change took place in the policy of the 
 Pontiif. As the last coach went by, the crowd 
 closed in, and followed up to the Piazza del 
 Popolo, and all who could possibly enter thronged 
 into the church, where high mass was per- 
 formed, but a great number, hopeless of enter- 
 ing, returned home. Mrs. Dalzell thought she 
 should be sure of at least finding Vincenzo, and 
 went on to the palace ; but her repeated ringing 
 only brought to the door a servant girl, unknown
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 163 
 
 to her — short, stout, with rough hair, curling all 
 over her head ; and her look of surprise at the 
 English visitor showed that foreigners did not 
 often visit the brother and sister. Xo one was 
 at home. The padrona ? At Santa Maria del 
 Popolo. The siguor and the signorina ? Gone to 
 see the procession. Even Yincenzo ! Mrs. Dal- 
 zell learnt that her old rooms were unoccupied, 
 and promised to call again next day. She next 
 sought Madame Marriotti ; who would surely be 
 at home, for she hated crowds and ceremonies, and 
 kept away from whatever other people went to see. 
 Yet she was not to be found — gone to the Corso ! 
 Mrs. Dalzell perceived that she should get the same 
 answer wherever she went, and leaving a few hastily 
 scribbled lines for her friend, returned to her hotel. 
 
 In the afternoon Madame Marriotti appeared, 
 having just reached home, found the note, and 
 hurried off again without any luncheon ; con- 
 sequently she was nearly exhausted, and had to be 
 fed and revived before she could lucidly explain 
 where she had been. 
 
 ' Xo — no more — not any more — ' said she, in 
 the short, disconnected sentences, which sounded 
 so odd and so familiar to Mrs. Dalzell — ' not any 
 more, I thank you. Oh, I am half dead. I do not 
 know how I got here, but I found your note. Ze- 
 naide said an English lady — "altacosi" marking the 
 stature in the air — had left it. I could hardly believe 
 my senses. "What has brought you so suddenly ?' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell explained, and Madame Marriotti 
 unfastened her beloved old fur cloak which she still 
 wore as if it had been December, though she had 
 prevailed on herself to put on a lace bonnet, fanned 
 herself, fidgeted, and grew composed. 
 
 *i 'I
 
 164 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Ah, yes, I understand. Then you did not come 
 on purpose for our grand festa f* said she, with a 
 peculiar silent laugh, which glittered in her black 
 eyes and on her lips with indescribable malice ; 
 ' are we not all a parcel of fools, eh ?' 
 
 ' I don't know, dear madame, but I assure you 
 I found myself upon my knees, with tears in my 
 eyes, this morning. It was wonderfully grand and 
 solemn.' 
 
 ' Tes, yes, yes, so it was, I dare say; I know at 
 the time I was as foolish as anybody, but to think 
 that we should be all bewitched into believing 
 all this — imagining that the Grovernment and the 
 people are strong enough for it ! yet I declare to 
 you we do.' 
 
 - I do, for one.' 
 
 ' My dear, did you see the faces of the cardinals 
 to-day ? The Pope, I do believe, means it all ; in- 
 tends to go on as he has begun; but all who know 
 anything about it see that he must come to a col- 
 lision with the priests or with the people ; he can't 
 content both. At first the priests thought it was 
 a matter not worth interfering in ; their eyes were 
 opened when he carried the amnesty with a high 
 hand ; but now they are afraid, for they know a 
 straw would light up a revolution — it's in the air, 
 like influenza. A revolution has been a word of 
 ill omen from all ages, and that was why they im- 
 prisoned Galileo ; he said the world moved, they 
 wanted it to stand still ; so they stopped his voice 
 — ma pur si muove ! So }Ou went to look for 
 Irene.' 
 
 ' I did think Yincenzo would have been at home, 
 I confess.' 
 
 ' Xo, Cecchi and that young 2s"ota contrived to
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 165 
 
 convey him, before it ali began, to the balcony of 
 the CafeNuovo — he and I and Irene were all there.' 
 
 1 And I was standing just below !' 
 
 1 Ah, we had something else to do besides look- 
 ing for acquaintances. Did you leave a message 
 for her ? Oh, it is to be a surprise, is it ? Well, 
 you will see her to-morrow — no, I can't let you go 
 there this evening ; you must come to my house, 
 I want you. I wrote to you of the child's debut 
 last spring ; it was quite successful — quite, and 
 I must say it has not turned her head. I don't 
 mean that she created a furore, but she showed 
 what was in her ; people expect her to be cele- 
 brated some day ; they go expressly to hear her 
 now, and she improves steadily. She is the best 
 pupil I ever had ; her style is only too pure and 
 good for the degenerate ears here, who only want 
 to be tickled and prefer Verdi to Scarlatti.' 
 
 ' If I could, I would have come for that debut? 
 
 ' I took a box, of course ; I really felt so nervous 
 that it quite knocked me up for a week. The 
 opera was Le Sorelle — a silly little thing, but that 
 air — La, la, la, la, you recollect, I dare say — 
 showed off the extent of her voice, and she quite 
 created Elena's character; I had no notion how 
 much she would make of it. Oddly enough, you 
 know Madame St. Simon is here again, prima donna 
 assoluta at Irene's theatre ; I fancy she hates the 
 child to that extent that she could poison her.' 
 
 More details followed ; Mrs. Dalzell said, smil- 
 ingly, ' Leone has told his secret !' 
 
 1 Yes, the very day after her first appearance,' 
 said Madame Marriotti indignantly. 
 
 * Then at least he kept his word, since it was 
 not the day before. You see I was right.'
 
 166 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' I suppose he did keep his promise ; yes, I 
 certainly must say he did. Though I think she 
 began to suspect at last ; and if her mind had not 
 been full of her music, she would have guessed 
 long before. He is quite the head of the liberal 
 party here, as of course you know. To think of 
 his having written all those capital poems — I could 
 hardly believe it when Irene told me ; we hold up 
 our heads, and are proud of them under this new 
 regime. Tou will come to my house to-night ? 
 There will be a few people, just my old friends, 
 for I don't make new acquaintances now. JSTo, he 
 certainly kept his promise,' said she, w^th one of 
 her abrupt returns to a former subject, ' except 
 that he gave her a canary bird ; but to be sure it 
 was to amuse Vincenzo, and a great pet he makes 
 of it. You heard the gun fire this morning, I 
 suppose ?' 
 
 ' Yes, what does that signify ?' 
 
 ' Why, people say the Pope has it done, because 
 he can't understand Italian time, Heaven knows 
 why ; — I never heard he was a Turk or a New 
 Zealander, but he got up at twelve o'clock at night 
 instead of morning, or something of that sort, and 
 after that all the clocks had to reform, like the 
 rest of us, and go by French time. The people 
 stop one in the streets and ask what hour it is, 
 for they can't understand the new way. Ah, well, 
 there are changes everywhere, and now we all 
 look at our watches when the gun fires, and take 
 quite an interest in it. Oh dear, how tired I am ! 
 and this new bonnet makes me feel quite ill ; I hate 
 wearing new things, but Zenaide said I really must, 
 to-day.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell did not dislike the idea of an
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 167 
 
 evening at Madame Marriotti's, especially as the 
 old lady stayed so long, that it was too late to 
 return to the palace. In her former visit to Italy 
 she had made acquaintance with several of the 
 little worlds of society that revolve in perfectly 
 separate orbits in Borne ; and on the whole there 
 was none she liked so well as that which had 
 Madame Marriotti for a centre. It had the pecu- 
 liarity that those who appeared in it were for the 
 most part rather friends than mere acquaintances ; 
 they had sought one another out from having 
 something in common, and Madame Marriotti's 
 name was- so celebrated, that it was esteemed an 
 honour to be admitted to her reunions, and she 
 was considerably exclusive, and admitted none who 
 had not something to recommend them. All who 
 came to her house were people worth meeting j 
 every one with musical talent was sure sooner or 
 later to find his way there ; but the staple of her 
 visitors were artists and musicians resident at 
 Borne. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell found the staircase better lighted 
 than on a former memorable visit, and that the 
 'few friends' were in met a very large party, 
 amongst whom she recognised several who, in her 
 former visit, had often caused her to smile, and 
 silently wonder whether the artist gentlemen culti- 
 vated bushy beards to counterbalance the general 
 absence of cap among the artist ladies ; but some 
 of the oddest-looking people were precisely those 
 who in England would have been sought after as 
 the tawniest of lions, and their peculiarities set 
 down as marks of genius ! Here they were at 
 home, and looked as they pleased among other lions. 
 
 As Mrs. Dalzell entered the first of the two
 
 168 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 rooms which were lighted up and filled with guests, 
 Madame Marriotti came hastily towards her and 
 made her sit down near the door of the second, 
 beginning a rather absent, pre-occupied conver- 
 sation, appearing afraid that every one who came 
 up to them should betray some secret, and looking 
 restlessly round as she talked at random. Pre- 
 sently the first notes of the piano were heard from 
 the inner room ; she half rose, looking very eager ; 
 there was a general expectant hush, and then a 
 voice, sweet, pure, and steady, came floating through 
 the rooms, while the words — 
 
 II buon prence, il buon pastore, 
 Ch' alia terra Iddio mando, 
 Come un angelo del Cielo 
 Improvise- a noi raggio, 
 
 told it was a hymn in honour of the popular idol, 
 Pio Xono. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell involuntarily rose and made her 
 way through the throng round the door of the 
 second room, till she could see the animated face of 
 the singer, whose charming voice she had instantly 
 recognised. It was indeed Irene, who stood by the 
 piano, dressed in white, with a gold ribbon — the 
 Papal colours — her looks inspired like those of a 
 sybil, as she sang, from her soul, the hymn written 
 by Leone in honour of the Pope, in whom they 
 saw the messenger of Heaven sent to give freedom 
 to Italy. It was the first time it had been heard ; 
 the last words of the first verse were lost in a 
 freuzy of applause, which only ceased to allow her 
 to sing the next, and burst out again and again 
 with new vehemence. As she paused amid a fresh 
 whirlwind of acclamations, Mrs. Dalzell looked at 
 Madame Marriotti and took her hand. There
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 169 
 
 were tears in the old lady's eyes, and her voice was 
 unsteady as she said, ' Ah, there is no fame so 
 fleeting as a great singer's ; but I shall be remem- 
 bered a little longer as the teacher of Irene Mori. 
 I was celebrated in my time too, but I never sang 
 so well as she, did I ?' 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Dalzell perceived Leone ; 
 he had glided round the piano, and was close 
 behind Irene, unseen by her. Her enthusiasm 
 had changed into a smiling, indifference as the 
 crowd surrounded her with innumerable compli- 
 ments. Leone bent slightly and whispered a 
 word or two in her ear, and she lifted her eyes 
 to his with a look that replied so fully, so elo- 
 quently, that Mrs. Dalzell involuntarily exclaimed, 
 ' Ah ! she will be content with love, instead of 
 fame, after all ! ' 
 
 An ejaculation from Madame Marriotti re- 
 minded her how disagreeable to her friend she was 
 making herself ; but she forgot to apologize ; for, 
 just then, Irene passed through the crowd, which 
 opened to make way for her, and paused to speak 
 to two young girls, seated close to an elderly 
 lady. One had before attracted Mrs. Dalzell' s 
 attention by her true Eoman face, with its low 
 brow, unabashed, brilliant eyes, and black wavy 
 hair. AVhile Irene sang, her countenance had 
 grown dark as night ; it seemed as if the triumph- 
 ant hymn gave her actual pain ; her expression 
 was positively startling. The other girl seemed 
 nearly of the same age, but she was darker, shyer, 
 more child-like, with eyes like those of a fawn ; 
 and as Irene sang, they were lifted up, and seemed 
 to laugh with delight. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell asked who the two were. ' That
 
 170 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 one with black hair, rolled back, is the Contessina 
 Gemma, Count dementi's sister — you have beard 
 of him ? — a noble, turned radical ; the little one is 
 Imelda Olivetti, the sposa of young Eavelli, Nota'a 
 chief ally. Ah ! there the child is,' as Irene ap- 
 proached, perceived Mrs. Dalzell, and, the words 
 she had been about to address to Madame Mar- 
 riotti dying on her lips, she threw her arms about 
 her friend's neck, with exclamations of delight, 
 regardless of the crowd. 
 
 ' Ah ! I have given you both a surprise,' said 
 Madame Marriotti ; ' now, say all you have to say 
 as fast as you can, for I shall want you to sing 
 again presently ; meanwhile, I suppose, Gemma 
 Clementi can manage something. Contessina, let 
 us have that air of Stradella's, or get your brother 
 to sing " Deli ti con/orta" with you; and be sure 
 you put seutiment into it.' 
 
 She made the girl obey, after a resistance rather 
 sullen than timid. That Madame Marriotti in- 
 vited her to sing in her house was sufficient 
 proof of her capacity ; but Mrs. Dalzell and 
 Irene behaved so ill as to talk with Leone, in a 
 low voice, all through the song. Irene was over- 
 flowing with the doings of the morning ; her own 
 affairs were quite secondary, and she had to be 
 allowed to exhaust the first subject before she 
 would tell anything about her debut, or that she 
 had sung at several private parties, chaperoned by 
 Madame Marriotti, and that she got sixteen scudi 
 a night — quite a fortune, ar I it would be more 
 another season. 
 
 'You were satisfied to-night, signora ?' she 
 asked, in playful certainty of the answer. 
 
 * You vain child ! suppose I say no ? '
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 171 
 
 ' Oh, you will not say that, signora ; I could 
 not help being inspired to-night,' she said, with a 
 glance at Leone. 
 
 ' Ah, Signor Nota ! ' said Mrs. Dalzell, with a 
 smile, ' I have been hearing of your misdeeds 
 from Madame Marriotti.' 
 
 1 She has been my worst enemy, but I can afford 
 to forgive her now,' said Leone. 
 
 ' She tells me many sad things,' said Irene ; ' she 
 says I am spoiled for an artist, and that 1 en- 
 courage Leone to set up Italy as my rival ; but 
 I shall always choose for Italy to come first ; I 
 am not afraid.' 
 
 1 Italy is always to be first,' said Leone, smiling 
 proudly ; ' we are ready to make sacrifices when 
 Italy asks for them.' 
 
 ' And Vincenzo, what does he say to your set- 
 ting up a rival to him, Irene ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, signora!' exclaimed Irene, with a wounded 
 look, and she shrank away from Leone, so that 
 Mrs. Dalzell repented her words ; but he took 
 Irene's hand, saying, ' There is no rivalry where 
 there is one family ; Vincenzo has taken me into 
 his, and made me rich.' 
 
 1 Eich, indeed !' said Irene, recovering her bright 
 look ; ' he is so proud, signora ! he will have no- 
 thing to say till he has made a fortune, though he 
 knows long betrothments are unheard of here.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell thought how this frank speaking, 
 perfectly ladylike and refined though Irene was, 
 differed from the bashfulness of an English girl 
 in a like case ; but she could not like it less ; it 
 suited the southern maiden, who had already 
 several times that evening reminded her of Juliet. 
 
 As they were continuing to talk of Vincenzo,
 
 172 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Gemma Clementi left the piano and presently came 
 to Irene, whispering something to her. Irene rose, 
 looked vexed, said to Mrs. Dalzell, ' I Mill soon 
 return,' and followed her to a little room, where 
 cloaks and hoods had been taken off. ' Well, 
 Gemma, what is it ? I want to go back.' 
 
 ' Oh, you are to sing again, of course ; at all 
 events, it cannot be that hymn ; it would drive me 
 mad to hear it again. Every word made me feel 
 as if you had stabbed me, and if Luigi had been 
 there I would have stabbed you,' said Gemma, 
 clenching her hand and knitting her brow. ' And 
 to see that silly child, Imelda, full of delight ! The 
 world is not wide enough for us two ; but, at 
 least, Ravelli loves me, and only me, though they 
 have chosen her to be his wife.' 
 
 ' Did you only bring me here to say all this ? ' 
 ' I hate the name of Italy — my only real rival ! 
 Oh, you asked me something ? JNo, I brought 
 you here to see Pietrucchio. I am kinder to you 
 than you are to me and Eavelli.' 
 
 She ran back into the other room, and in her place 
 <tood Clementi. He was an old friend now, and 
 Irene said, without hesitation, ' I am so glad to 
 see you before you go.' 
 
 ' Before I go on a mission whose danger you 
 well know. Irene, this may be a long adieu ; once 
 before you closed my lips when something escaped 
 me of another love mingling with that for our 
 country; will you do the same now? Ah! I 
 understand ; no need to speak. 9 
 
 ' Oh, Count Clementi ! you gave up your pro- 
 spects for a nobler love than mine !' 
 
 He looked at her fixedly and said, ' "When we 
 last spoke of this, you said that, though you did 
 not love me, you loved no one else ?'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 173 
 
 The words were a question, and her face replied 
 plainly. 
 
 A thousand things were in the look that flashed 
 across his face as he spoke the one word ' Leone ?' 
 1 Yes,' she answered. Both stood still ; that 
 moment had overthrown the schemes of three 
 years ; little stood, at that moment, between 
 Nota and a stiletto, but, even in the few in- 
 stants which passed while Irene stood mute 
 beside him, dementi's subtle brain had devised 
 new schemes. "When he spoke again, it was to 
 say ' Farewell !' 
 
 ' Xo, au revoir ! Tou will return, you will bring 
 success ; these are days for nobler things than 
 mere private hopes !' said Irene, earnestly. 
 
 1 "When I return, if return I do, it will be to 
 find you Xota's bride ?' 
 
 ' Xo,' she answered, ' that cannot be yet, but — 
 Count Clementi — I love him.' 
 
 She meant to crush all hope, and at least she 
 stung him, so that *he could barely disguise the 
 look of hatred that crossed his face ; but his voice 
 did not betray him as he said, ' It is enough, the 
 subject shall never be named again, and the future 
 still belongs to me.' 
 
 1 Oh yes, the future, our country's future ! "We 
 have that best interest in common ; we have shared 
 all the past hopes and fears, and we shall have more 
 good news when you return.' 
 
 ' Yes, when I return. Till then, farewell, Irene !' 
 He held her hand for a moment and regarded 
 her steadfastly ; kissed it once, and disappeared, 
 while she returned to Mrs. Dalzell with troubled 
 thoughts. The first question was innocent and 
 yet embarrassing enough. ' "Was the handsome 
 girl who called you away Count dementi's sister ?'
 
 174 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 1 Gemma Clementi — yes.' 
 
 * A great friend ?' 
 
 ' We are such near neighbours that I see her 
 constantly now that she has come home from the 
 convent, but we are hardly friends.' 
 
 ' But her brother is Vincenzo's special ally, after 
 Signor Nota, of course.' 
 
 ' Yes, he and Luigi Ravelli.' 
 
 ' And who did I hear that that pretty child is, 
 and the lady in black velvet, just what one would 
 fancy Lady Capulet to have been ? She ought to 
 wear a flowing train and a hood.' 
 
 ' That is Imelda Olivetti, a dear, dear child, and 
 the lady is her mother.' 
 
 'Child! she is sixteen, and Eavelli's promessa 
 sposaj said Leone. 
 
 ' I love her dearly,' said Irene ; ' do let me in- 
 troduce her to you.' 
 
 ' Thank you ; but my Italian has grown rather 
 rusty : it strikes me that both it and your English 
 would be the better for a little practice, signo- 
 rina.' 
 
 ' She is teaching me English,' said Leone, with 
 pretended alarm; ' I hope she is capable of it ?' 
 
 Irene shook her head saucily at the implied 
 doubt, and in fact she spoke English very well, and 
 her foreign accent was but piquant and pleasing. 
 
 Madame Marriotti came up again, and made 
 them listen to a German pianist ; afterwards 
 she sent Irene to sing again, and sitting down 
 by Mrs. Dalzell, told her who different people 
 were, while from time ' to time old acquaintances 
 came up to welcome the stranger and remained 
 a few minutes to talk on the inexhaustible subject 
 of the new Pope and his measures. Late in
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORT. 175 
 
 the evening an ecclesiastic entered, distinguished 
 of course by his particular dress, but still more 
 by his remarkable countenance, which forcibly 
 recalled to Mrs. Dalzell's mind a picture she 
 had somewhere seen of a Spanish saint — where, 
 she could not remember, but this man might have 
 been the original. A thin, ascetic face, the fea- 
 tures so delicate that they would have been 
 feminine had they been a whit less austere ; deep- 
 set eyes gleaming under a broad, pale forehead ; 
 with an indescribable look as if he were accus- 
 tomed not only to read men, but to govern 
 them. Such a face might have belonged to the 
 founder or reformer of some rigid order ; but, stern 
 and watchful as it was when at rest, it became 
 singularly fascinating and persuasive, even seductive 
 when he spoke ; and as he entered, there was a 
 movement and murmur among those present, which 
 showed he was a person of eminence, and several 
 immediately surrounded him, as if proud to claim 
 his acquaintance. His spare figure seemed from 
 its straightness to rise above those around him, 
 and he remained for some minutes the centre of a 
 group, answering, with calm, soft tones, the buzz 
 of eager appeal. Mrs. Dalzell noticed that Irene 
 kissed his hand as he paused near her, and that 
 Leone was one of those standing round him ; and 
 turned to express her surprise to her hostess, but 
 Madame Marriotti had hurried to welcome the 
 new comer, and remained standing in deep conver- 
 sation with him for some minutes. When she left 
 him, he sat down near the piano, speaking occa- 
 sionally to his neighbours, but generally listening 
 to what went on around him, yet without seeming 
 to do so ; the words appeared to float to his ear,
 
 ]76 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 and an occasional remark showed that he heard 
 and appreciated what was said on all sides in spite 
 of the buzz of voices, in which the words ' The 
 Pope,' ' Amnesty,' ' Cicceruacchio,' ' Grizzi,' ' Aus- 
 trian policy,' seemed to cross and recross each 
 other in all directions, with a freedom most signi- 
 ficant that a new regime had begun. Madame 
 Marriotti returned to Mrs. Dalzell, and whispered, 
 1 Padre Rinaldi. I don't love priests in general, 
 but I do believe that man is a saint, if there be 
 such things now-a-days, and he has enormous 
 influence here ; the people absolutely worship him. 
 His eloquence! you should hear him preach. I 
 went once to St. Andrea della Yalle, but the crowd 
 nearly killed me — there was not room for a reed 
 in the church. He has travelled everywhere and 
 knows all languages, and I have heard wonderful 
 things (I'm sure I do not know whether they are 
 true or not ; one can't believe half one hears, 
 especially at Pome) ; but they do say, that the power 
 he had amongst some tribe of savages whom he 
 lived amongst for years, and converted, is something 
 too extraordinary to be believed.' 
 
 ' I could believe anything of that man,' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell, looking at him with great interest. 
 He raised his eyes and met hers at the moment, 
 and she withdrew her glance hastily, lowering her 
 voice, as she said, ' There certainly is mesmerism 
 in him ; I feel sure he could obtain any power he 
 pleased over me.' 
 
 ' Mesmerism ! it is strictly forbidden here ; 
 perhaps that means nobody but the priests are 
 to possess it,' said Madame Marriotti, who cer- 
 tainly had no love for the Pom an clergy. ' You 
 must ask young Xota about him ; he will have
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 177 
 
 plenty to tell you ; Padre Pinaldi is his oracle, 
 and certainly a reforming priest is worth noting.' 
 
 There was a constant movement in the rooms, 
 as well as incessant talking, and a little crowd 
 soon interposed between Mrs. Dalzell and Padre 
 Rinaldi ; but she still seemed to feel his eye upon 
 her, and even while laughing at herself, still de- 
 clared that he possessed mesmeric power. 
 
 Count Clementi had disappeared an hour or two 
 before, and when she asked where he was, no one 
 seemed to know. Irene and Leone could both 
 have explained, but the matter was a secret. He 
 had asked for no pledge of silence from Irene 
 respecting the declaration he had made, earnestly 
 as he wished that Leone should not hear of it. 
 He rightly judged that from her no one would 
 ever know that he had sought to be more than 
 a friend. 
 
 TOL. I.
 
 178 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 Well done, thou watcher on the lonely tower ! 
 Is the day breaking ? Dawns the happy hour ? 
 We pine to see it : — tell us yet again, 
 If the broad daylight breaks upon the plain. 
 
 It breaks, it comes — the misty shadows fly, 
 A rosy radiance gleams upon the sky ; 
 The mountain tops reflect it calm and clear, 
 The plain is yet in shade, but day is near. 
 
 Mackay. 
 
 MES. DALZELL was more successful in her 
 second Tisit to Palazzo Clementi than she 
 had been in her first. The servant girl again 
 opened the door, but received her less wonderingly, 
 and volunteered the information, ' La padrona sta 
 a pettinarsi? 
 
 How many times before the same odd phrase 
 had amused the EDglish lodger until she learnt 
 at last to comprehend that this " pectinating" pro- 
 cess meant that Madama Cecchi was laying aside 
 her morning deshalille, and preparing herself for 
 the afternoon. She knew it would be vain to expect 
 to see her for an hour at least, and went to the 
 sitting-room of Irene and Yincenzo. Both were 
 at home, and both started up joyfully to receive 
 her, and her old favourite Tevere overwhelmed her 
 with demonstrations of delight. 
 
 The sitting-room had become thoroughly Italian
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 179 
 
 in her absence ; the walls roughly, but very effec- 
 tively painted with views of Tivoli, Albano, and 
 the Campagna ; no carpet on the uneven brick 
 floor, except a narrow strip beside the sofa, and 
 the furniture had a stiff, formal look ; the centre 
 of the room was occupied by a piano ; a plaster 
 bust of Pio Xono stood on a bracket with an 
 embroidery frame below it, and the red sofa was 
 adorned with a cushion, on which Madama Cecchi, 
 in some extraordinary fit of industry, had worked 
 a bird of Paradise with a brilliant tail. Less 
 Italian looked a small bookcase. 
 
 Yincenzo was writing in a thick manuscript book 
 as she entered ; he was in his indoors costume of 
 dressing-gown and velvet cap, and he looked even 
 thinner and more of an invalid than of old ; his 
 complexion had become that of one in confirmed 
 ill health, and the crutches near his sofa showed 
 that he found moving as difficult as ever, but his 
 countenance was bright with joy at the arrival of 
 Mrs. Dalzell. Irene's music and his carvino- 
 for some time formed the topic of conversation ; 
 he had been very fortunate in obtaining employ- 
 ment ; Signor Trajano had been very kind in re- 
 commending his works, and he was always busy. 
 Mrs. Dalzell described again to him, what she 
 had already told by letter, how good an effect 
 some of his garlands of fruit and flowers had in 
 an English mansion, where they had been placed, 
 and described the paintings which they surrounded. 
 "When all this had been told, Irene called her 
 attention to a carnation on a table. 
 
 ' Yes, I have been admiring it ; but how come 
 you to admit scented flowers ? ' 
 
 Irene and Yincenzo smiled, and the former 
 
 n2
 
 180 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 placed it before Mrs. Dalzell, who then discovered 
 that though it was a hondjide carnation plant, the 
 flowers were paper. The imitation was so good 
 that she repeatedly touched them before she could 
 believe they were artificial. 
 
 ' They are feigned,' said Irene, unconsciously 
 translating from the Italian in which she thought. 
 
 'Imelda Olivetti made them and sent them to me.' 
 
 1 But these are not Ji?iti; these are my garden,' 
 said Yincenzo, moving with difficulty to the win- 
 dow, which he opened ; ' see, I have a stock, a 
 camellia, and a rose-tree, and here is the canary 
 which Leone was pleased to say he brought as a 
 gift to me. See ! Tevere cannot bear it — he is so 
 jealous of it, that when I let it out, we are obliged 
 to put him in thef anteroom. Is he not a pretty 
 fellow ? white and yellow, the Papal colours ! and 
 do you see the plants — the goldfinch, in the win- 
 dow of the top story opposite ?' 
 
 ' Your neighbour quite beats you in colours, 
 Yincenzo ; a red and blue cage ! ' 
 
 ' My neighbour is an artisan, and we are great 
 friends ; we water our plants and feed our birds 
 at the same hour every day ; as the clock strikes, 
 I always see his black beard and purple cap appear 
 among them. I thought he must be a good fel- 
 low, he is so fond of them, and he has quite tamed 
 a little yellow water-wag-tail, that is always run- 
 ning over the roof here ; I suppose he passed the 
 same judgment on me, for we always exchange 
 nods, and look for each other. Irene and I made 
 up our minds that we would give him a pleasure, 
 and bought a rose-tree for him ; he only possessed 
 stocks and wall-flowers till then, and we sent it 
 without saying whence it came ; but somehow he 
 found out, and came to thank us.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 181 
 
 'Such a scene of gratitude!' said Irene; 'and 
 he has vowed to do service whenever and wherever 
 he can.' 
 
 1 Just the same number of people looking out 
 of window as ever!' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 It is our way of taking the air,' said Yincenzo ; 
 1 1 find it very refreshing.' 
 
 They sat down again, and Irene continued, ' I 
 showed you the carnation, signora, because I want 
 to talk to you about Imelda. It is a secret, but 
 you stand so apart from it all that it is like telling 
 a confessor; and I want advice, for Yincenzo and 
 I are both puzzled. You heard that she was Luigi 
 Kavelli's promessa sposa ; he is an engineer now, 
 but he was brought up in Signor Olivetti's studio.' 
 
 'His studio — he is a painter or a sculptor, then?' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Irene, perplexed. 
 
 Yincenzo saw the difficulty, and added, ' Perhaps 
 in English the word is used differently ; it only 
 means here a place to study in. Signor Olivetti 
 is a lawyer.' 
 
 ' I understand, and Signor Eavelli was his pupil.' 
 
 ' So,' pursued Irene, ' Imelda has known him all 
 her life ; the two families settled, almost as soon 
 as she was born, that their sou and daughter 
 should marry. Luigi never liked the law, and 
 he has persuaded his father to let him be an 
 engineer (you know we are to have railroads now), 
 and not marry just yet. I am afraid the real 
 reason is, that he and Gemma Clementi love each 
 other. She came home from Sta. Caterina di 
 Siena last summer, and was to have married some 
 old marchess, but he died. I wish she had ! I 
 don't know how it began, but they meet and write 
 continually, and no one knows but ourselves.' 
 
 ' ISot here ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Dalzell.
 
 182 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' No, no ; we could not allow that, though Ravelli 
 is a great friend of ours.' 
 
 ' And Irene positively refused to give him Gem- 
 ma's letters,' added Vincenzo ; ' consequently they 
 have respected her ever since.' 
 
 ' How can all this be if Italian girls are so jea- 
 lously watched ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps it sharpens their wits for deceit, 
 signora ; and besides, Contessa Clementi is an 
 invalid, and trusts to her maid and the sister-in- 
 law who lives with her, and who takes very indif- 
 ferent care of Gemma, I suspect ; indeed, Leone 
 privately begged me not to let Irene go out any- 
 where with her, long before the signorina knew he 
 had any right to interfere.' 
 
 ' Gemma has insisted on being friends with us, 
 but I do not like her — I could not like any one 
 who perilled dear Imelda's happiness,' said Irene. 
 
 'Is this family compact a very serious thing?' 
 asked Mrs. Dalzell. ' Surely the simple thing to 
 do is for Signor Luigi to tell his father the truth.' 
 
 ' It would be in vain,' said Yincenzo ; ' Signor 
 Haveili is quite despotic — a hot-headed, kind, 
 tyrannical old man, never opposed by any one in 
 his own family ; he would only think Luigi a fool- 
 ish boy and not listen. He cannot understand that 
 his son can be grown up. Besides, the Clementi 
 would never consent, though they are decadente ; 
 Ravclli is not even a count in the provinces.' 
 
 ' Do the Olivetti family know how they are 
 risking their daughter's happiness?' 
 
 ' They would not believe it. They would think 
 this a silly affair which the marriage would end, 
 and Imelda has been taught from childhood to 
 consider Luigi as her future husband. She is
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 183 
 
 such a eliild that she does not see that he only 
 likes her as a sister.' 
 
 1 Oh, signora, don't you think Luigi must find 
 out how much better a wife she would make him 
 than Gremma, who is so intensely selfish ? ' 
 
 1 "Who cannot endure to see him pat Tevere 
 here ; she would poison anything he loved, she is 
 so jealous and violent; and he is as blind as a bat 
 to it, or taking it all for love ! ' said Yincenzo. 
 
 ' She even dislikes to hear Italy spoken of, 
 because she thinks he cares too much about it,' 
 said Irene; ' but she knows better than to let him 
 see that.' 
 
 'And Imelda cares for Italy just because he 
 does — neither of them have a spark of real patriot- 
 ism, but I can forgive her. The thing that puzzles 
 me is, why Clementi, who sees everything, lets this 
 go on. Perhaps he might, after all, let her marry 
 a commoner. He has come with her several times 
 when Luigi was here, and yet seemed to notice 
 nothing. I cannot make it out.' 
 
 ' Yet you like him ?' 
 
 1 Indeed I do, he has made noble sacrifices — he 
 goes too far, I own, but of course he must be 
 spurred by the fear that men may suspect him of 
 a leaning to his old party.' 
 
 'And Cecchi?' 
 
 Yincenzo shook his head. ' Cecchi is becoming 
 a fanatic, quiet as he seems ; once set him off", and 
 you have a regular Jacobin. I don't like his prin- 
 ciples; he is mad about equality, and republics, and 
 socialism, and such stuff. Our best men see that 
 what we really want is a constitutional government, 
 such as we shall have if people will but wait ; Borne 
 was not built in a day, nor will it be reformed in
 
 184 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 one ; but Cecchi and his party call us moderates 
 Pope's men; they are absorbed at present in one 
 great body of liberals, but I am afraid they will 
 split with it soon. Such as Cecchi would stick at 
 nothing to compass their ends, and yet you know 
 how mild and amiable the man is in private life. 
 I only hope the Government will hold them well 
 in, for they would make small account of men's 
 lives if they stood in their way. There have been 
 many assassinations of late years.' 
 
 1 Not in Rome ? ' 
 
 1 No, in the provinces ; but if a man stabs 
 another, to this day they say in the Trastevere, 
 " Poor fellow ! he has murdered such a one," and 
 all agree to hide him.' 
 
 ' Because they think he must be brave,' said 
 Irene. 
 
 ' There ! you see she understands the feeling. 
 As if there could be bravery in a cowardly sudden 
 blow with the stiletto ! Fair fight, face to face, I 
 can admire ; but you see, those who justify assas- 
 sination say it is the only means to get justice 
 where fear and bribery rule everything.' 
 
 ' Their reign is over now ! These three last have 
 been wonderful years,' said Irene, triumphantly. 
 
 ' Yes, so Yincenzo's letters showed me.' 
 
 1 My letters ! If I had told you half what I 
 might ! You little guessed how much more there 
 was to tell — what risks we were all running ! You 
 must know that Leone was the very soul of what 
 Government would have called a plot, what I call 
 a propaganda ; though perhaps the reverend fathers 
 here, Loyola's disciples, might object to that use 
 of the word,' said Yincenzo, maliciously. 'The 
 object was to spread liberal opinions, and give
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI., 185 
 
 men some definite idea what to aim at, reform and 
 freedom for Italy, but no driving away of kings 
 and attempts at impossible republics. The thing 
 was to get this into people's heads, but the very 
 mention of such ideas was as much as one's life 
 was worth. We all knew we risked life and liberty. 
 There were Nota, Cecchi, Ravelli, and Donati at 
 first, who planned and organized the measures to 
 be taken, then myself. We wrote, and got our 
 papers printed in England, or circulated them in 
 MS. Irene can tell you who copied many of 
 them ; it was in fact a kind of secret society, and 
 in these three years our progress has been worth all 
 the danger — we are counted by hundreds all over 
 the Papal States; but it was perilous work. You 
 can't be sure among numbers that some won't 
 boast or betray ; we were standing on a mine with 
 a lighted match in it.' 
 
 ' Leone might well say that, if I realized his 
 position, I should not promise him Irene,' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell ; ' was this your care of her, Vin- 
 cenzo ?' 
 
 'Signora,' he answered seriously, 'there are things 
 more precious than even life or liberty ; we are 
 Italians, and she is Xota's promised wife. This was 
 no play ; it was life and death in thorough earnest. 
 We had to distrust the very air we breathed. The 
 danger, from the over-zealous, like Cecchi, was as 
 great as it was from traitors. Over and over again 
 Leone's room was searched ; more than once, I 
 am convinced, a spy came here under pretext of 
 buying my carvings. I assure you there were 
 days when every ring at the bell was as startling 
 as if the police must be outside.' 
 
 Irene leant her head on her hand and sighed.
 
 186 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 She knew more about a conspiracy now than in 
 the days of the Pastorale. 
 
 ! I can hardly fancy such boys organizing a 
 serious plot!' said Mrs. Dalzell; ' Xota himself 
 not seven-and-twenty — there was Cecchi, to be 
 sure.' 
 
 ' It is only the young who have hope or courage 
 enough to shape the future,' said Yincenzo ; 
 1 besides, Leone has a wonderful power of inspir- 
 ing other people with his own brave, ardent spirit. 
 Twice it seemed all over with us — the first time 
 just before I knew anything about it, when poor 
 Donati was arrested, and copies of papers and 
 some of Leone's poems were found on him; but he 
 kept the secret well. Poor fellow ! we thought 
 the amnesty would have given him back to us, 
 but he has never been heard of. Again, in '46, 
 the police had certainly got information, but 
 Pope Gregory died, and all proceedings were 
 stopped ; for the city was like a seething cauldron, 
 and Government was afraid of exciting the people. 
 And since that we have been able to stand forth 
 in daylight, thank Heaven ; no one is persecuted 
 for being a liberal now, and Eome is proud of her 
 poet and improvisator e. 1 
 
 ' Yes,' said Irene ; ' but still you tell the signora 
 all this in confidence, Yincenzo.' 
 
 ' I do — there is no need to say much about it. 
 Still, now that I look back, it seems marvellous 
 all went well — such hair-breadth 'scapes ! We never 
 could have got our papers *\*om England, if one 
 of our associates had not belonged to the Custom- 
 house, and another traded from Marseilles to 
 Ostia. Our chief opponent was Madama Cecchi — 
 we were obliged to let her into the secret, and she
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 187 
 
 and Cecchi had suffered so much from his meddling 
 with conspiracy before, that no wonder she dreaded 
 it j but she came into it at last.' 
 
 ' It appears to me, that the women are the chief 
 sufferers, after all, Yincenzo.' 
 
 1 They are proud to accept that part, since they 
 cannot take a more active one, signora,' said Irene, 
 raising her head and smiling. 
 
 ' Did Clementi know of all this ?' 
 
 ' Not till quite the end of Pope Gregory's days. 
 Naturally our friends had not the same confidence 
 in him as we have ; his being Monsignore de- 
 menti's nephew was of course very much against 
 him, but all know what he really is now.' 
 
 There was a pause, Mrs. Dalzell confounded by 
 what she heard, and Yincenzo meutally reviewing 
 those days of danger, anxiety, hope, and triumph. 
 Irene broke it by saying, ' We have gone a long 
 way from Imelda. What do you say about that, 
 signora ?' 
 
 ' "Well, my dear child, I don't know what to say. 
 I don't see that you can do anything, but it is a 
 disagreeable position for you to be in. Do you 
 see much of these girls ? ' 
 
 ' Gemma is always slipping in, and she has 
 made friends with Imelda; I cannot think whv, for 
 I know she hates her.' 
 
 ' Cannot you guess ? I can, though Leone says 
 I am a thorough Englishman, slow and sure. These 
 Italians are so conceited, signora,' said Yincenzo, 
 looking playfully at his sister ; ' they think no one 
 knows anything but themselves. Why, don't you 
 see, she meets Eavelli at Casa Olivetti?' 
 
 ' Oh, Yincenzino ! that would be too treacher- 
 ous!'
 
 188 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 'Much she thinks of that! Ravelli angers me 
 most ; he is the most honourable fellow in every- 
 thing else, but the fact is he laughs at the family 
 compact.' 
 
 ' Zitto ! there is Gemma herself,' said Irene, as 
 a rapid knock came at the door, and Gemma 
 entered. She certainly looked very handsome, even 
 in the untidy morning costume which displeased 
 Mrs. Dalzell's English eye. She looked startled at 
 finding a visitor, but replied readily in French 
 when Mrs. Dalzell addressed her, and explained 
 that she had come to practise some music with 
 Irene, which was to be sung next day at the 
 Amateur Philharmonic Society ; and she showed 
 that she knew how to make herself agreeable, by 
 her polite remarks to Mrs. Dalzell on Irene's 
 singing and acting. Her own was quite as good 
 — at least the latter, Vincenzo muttered in English. 
 She looked at him with a rapid penetrating glance, 
 like her brother's, as if she divined what he said ; 
 and then, standing by the piano while Irene opened 
 her music, whispered, ' Pietrucchio is gone ; he 
 bade me tell you to give this to Eavelli yourself.' 
 Irene saw the direction was in the count's hand- 
 writing, and she had no choice but to accept the 
 commission. They had scarcely begun to sing, 
 when a knock came at the door again, and a lady's 
 maid signed to Gemma to come out, and they 
 heard the words, ' The signora contessa wants 
 you ; I heard your aunt say you were with your 
 embroidery mistress in her room, but you had 
 better come in directly.' 
 
 Gemma returned, and said she was obliged to 
 go, and she disappeared with the cameriera. 
 
 ' There !' said Vincenzo, emphatically. ' What
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 189 
 
 lias she given you, Irene ? I dare say she has 
 slipped in a note ! What do you think of her, 
 signora ? a handsome, false face, is it not ?' 
 
 They were again interrupted ; this time by the 
 appearance of Madama Cecchi, enthusiastically 
 delighted to see Mrs. Dalzell, who further de- 
 lighted her by producing an English gift for her 
 — a case of Sheffield scissors. The padrona made 
 a sweeping and stately reverence, and received 
 them as though they were made of diamonds. 
 On hearing that Mrs. Dalzell was coming to lodge 
 with her again, she said she had fully hoped and 
 expected it ; she believed no tenant had ever left 
 her without its being a day of mourning on both 
 sides ; she had suffered so much in parting from 
 them, that she had resolved never to let herself 
 feel affection for them again. 
 
 ' Tou forget the Eussian general,' said the 
 malicious Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Ah, Heaven ! the Eussian general ! what a 
 man ! what a man ! Impossible to please him — 
 what I suffered at that time none know, but I and 
 Heaven ! Only an educated person can suffer so,' 
 said she, clasping her hands on her heart. 'Always 
 dissatisfied, always calling for his man, or Nino, 
 or me — never quiet one moment ; a voice like 
 thunder, a step like Atlas ! Enough ! He returned 
 last winter — he never knew what he made me 
 undergo ; I was robust, I had a fine figure before 
 he came, but I grew lean, a sight to horrify ! My 
 friends used to say, " But what is it ? what is the 
 matter with you?" and I, " Nothing, nothing at 
 all ;" for I have a certain spirit, I never complain. 
 As I said, he returned last year, and, like all my 
 lodgers, remembered me, and brought me a beau-
 
 190 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 tiful present, which I will show you, and he asked 
 if I had lodgings to let again. I had an apart- 
 ment vacant, but I told him it was let for the 
 season — he enters my house no more. Imagine, 
 dear signora, on the coldest nights he would spend 
 hours in pacing the corridors, and saying he was 
 too hot ; while he admitted the night air through 
 the whole house by leaving the door wide open — ■ 
 a draught as dangerous as a stroke from a dagger! 
 Ah, what a man ! ' 
 
 ' And then he quarrelled with a Polish family 
 who happened to live at a corner of this floor,' 
 said Vincenzo, ' and sent them word that they 
 must leave the palace or he must.' 
 
 ' How did it end ?' 
 
 1 Oh, both stayed, but they were natural enemies, 
 always at war.' 
 
 ' "What have become of Filomena and Agata, 
 signora ? I see you have new servants.' 
 
 The laughing glance exchanged between brother 
 and sister showed that this, too, was a sore subject 
 with the padrona. 
 
 ' Agata is married,' said she, ' well married to a 
 baker in the Babuino, whence I get all my bread ; 
 but as for that other — ah, signora! what misery 
 servants are ! in every house in Koine is tribula- 
 tion on account of them. You recollect how good 
 that girl was ? "We used to call her Saint Filomena, 
 on account of the purity of her manners. Honest,' 
 continued the padrona, counting on her fingers, 
 ' that is one. Agile, two. Of a good heart, three. 
 Enough. She met with a lover, a birbante, an 
 idle fellow, who turned her head. I preached to 
 her in vain. I said, " This cannot continue ; marry 
 at once, or give him up." '
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 191 
 
 1 1 shall report this advice to Leone,' said Yin- 
 cenzo, thereby winning the padrona's hearty laugh, 
 but, nevertheless, she continued to detail her 
 troubles. ' In vain, absolutely in vain. Did she go 
 to the door — there he was. Did I send her on an 
 errand ; he was leaning on the chains in the piazza, 
 and she took three hours to perform what should 
 have taken as many minutes. At last I said she 
 was the scandal of the palace, and must leave me 
 in a month. She went that day, and sent her sister 
 to say she should come back no more. But what 
 a girl !' 
 
 1 The end of it was that she displeased the 
 hirbante by civetteria,' said Yincenzo. 
 
 1 How ?' 
 
 ' Coquetry ; did you never see two little civette 
 coquetting together ?' said Irene, putting her 
 head on one side, and looking exactly like a civetta 
 owl, while Madama Cecchi completed the portrait 
 by mimicking its petulant cry. 
 
 1 And he declared that he would poniard her, 
 and then himself, and end his days on a scaffold,' 
 continued Vincenzo ; ' I don't know how he meant 
 to do all three, but he contented himself with giv- 
 ing her a good beating.' 
 
 ' Tou have not as pretty a maid now, signora,' 
 said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 No, ugly, very ugly, but swift — she runs like 
 the wind ; she is a little demon. The other is 
 pretty, Menica. You have not seen her yet. She 
 is discreet too, a nun in her conduct.' 
 
 1 I shall beg to have the pretty one to wait on 
 me. Now, signora, can we settle about my rooms, 
 or must we wait for Signor Cecchi ?' 
 
 1 Cecchi !' began the padrona, in a tone of pro-
 
 192 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 found contempt at the idea of his interfering with 
 her domestic arrangements; but instantly subsiding 
 into politeness, ' it will be a happiness for him to 
 have the signora as his tenant again. How often 
 have we spoken of you, and I have said, " Do not 
 fear, Nino ; she will return, she will honour us 
 again with her presence." That is his way. The 
 signora will see when he hears she is in Rome, 
 what joy — Nino ! Ni !' 
 
 ' Che c'e? What is it?' asked the pleasant 
 voice of her husband, as he advanced into the 
 room. ' Ah, what is this ! the English signora ! 
 I am too happy to see her returned to us. How 
 is it I did not hear of it ?' 
 
 ' I came in too late to tell you last night, and 
 you were gone out before I was up this morning,' 
 said Irene. 
 
 ' The signora has come to ask if we have an 
 apartment for her, Ni.' 
 
 'Per BaccoV exclaimed Cecchi in utter con- 
 sternation, ' I have just met with a Prussian baron 
 and promised it to him ! How could I guess you 
 would have let it in my absence ?' 
 
 ' See, signora,' said the padrona, without even a 
 reproachful look at her husband, ' I should have 
 been charmed to have you here again ; you would 
 have been welcome as rain in August ; it pierces 
 my heart to lose you, but you hear ! Husbands 
 are ever the masters — what can I do ?' 
 
 ' But I say, I should have been grateful — too 
 happy to have the signora here !' exclaimed Nino, 
 driven to despair by this speecii ; ' what can I say ? 
 what can I do ? I will go to the baron, I will tell 
 him how it is ; he is a man of honour, a gentleman, 
 he will understand — excuse, signora,' and he rushed 
 out breathless.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 193 
 
 1 Let us go to jour apartment, signora,' said the 
 padrona, composedly, as if nothing had occurred ; 
 ' there may be some improvement we could have 
 the pleasure of making for you.' 
 
 She led the way, Mrs. Dalzell followed, struggling 
 not to smile, and Irene and Yincenzo fairly gave 
 way to the laughter they had hardly suppressed 
 for the last five minutes. 
 
 YOL. I.
 
 194 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 With a gentle leap 
 The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy creep 
 Fantastically tangled ; the green hills 
 Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass 
 The quick eyed lizard rustles, and the bills 
 Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass ; 
 Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class, 
 Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes 
 Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass ; 
 The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes, 
 Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems coloured by its skies. 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 THE theatres had just re-opened, and Irene, 
 besides still continuing to study regularly 
 with Madame Marriotti, was much occupied by 
 rehearsals and performances. She was a very 
 conscientious cantatrice, studying all her parts, 
 great and small, with equal care, and giving in 
 consequence to each a peculiar cast of her own, so 
 that the public sometimes hardly knew whether-to 
 approve of her deviations from established tradi- 
 tions ; but she was beginning to be well known 
 as a cantatrice of great promise and of an excellent 
 school, and was already becoming the favourite 
 singer at the theatre whore she was engaged, 
 though she had Madame St. Simon, a beauty and 
 a celebrity, to eclipse her. 
 
 Irene was entirely devoted to her profession;
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 195 
 
 she had set an ideal standard of perfection be- 
 fore her, and did not need to be told that she 
 had not yet reached it. Indeed, she was some- 
 times amusingly indignant that the public were 
 so easily satisfied, and was out of all patience 
 when she discovered how far most of her com- 
 panions made a very little pains go. Her thea- 
 trical life had two sides — one noble and animating, 
 the other so bitter and depressing that at times 
 she was almost disgusted with her art itself. 
 The tracasseries of the theatre, the character of 
 many of her associates, the spite, envy, and malice 
 which seemed to influence everything, great or 
 small, these were absolutely revolting to the young 
 cantatrice, whose own life had been so singularly 
 guarded. Some of those, amougst whom she was 
 thrown, had characters as unblemished as ber own, 
 and amongst these she counted not a few friends ; 
 but there were others who heartily disliked her, 
 and threw every imaginable obstacle in her way. 
 Madame St. Simon pretended to look loftily down 
 on her young rival, declared their styles did not 
 correspond, and never appeared on nights when 
 Irene did ; and infinite were the scenes of rebel- 
 lion and confusion causecUby her among the corps 
 dramatique, which the manager had to soothe, 
 threaten, and force into tranquillity, favouring 
 the rivals alternately, both being too important to 
 be sacrificed, and the one being as high-spirited as 
 the other was unreasonable, and all the other per- 
 formers siding vehemently with one or the other. 
 Irene now kuew why Mrs. Dalzell had shrunk 
 from such a life for her, but usually she considered 
 her profession as apart from all these vexations, 
 loved it thoroughly, and dauntless and hopeful, 
 
 o2
 
 196 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 rose lightly above vexations and difficulties ; or at 
 worst was only dispirited till she had talked them 
 over with Yincenzo. 
 
 Illness brings out the feminine side of a man's 
 character, and this was probably the explanation 
 of Yincenzo's peculiar feelings towards his sister. 
 Irene's hopes, Irene's future, were his own. "What- 
 ever concerned her touched him ; on her was cen- 
 tred a devoted unselfish love, which was beyond 
 price. Another might love her more passionately, 
 but none could do so better than Yincenzo. Their 
 parts had been reversed in life — the sister took 
 the active share; the brother regarded her with 
 a woman's devotion. He had felt only happiness 
 in her engagement to Leone ; which would give 
 her a protector and secure her happiness. Yin- 
 cenzo's feeling on this subject never varied. 
 Irene was ever his chief thought ; he knew all 
 about her companions, her difficulties at the 
 theatre, as well as she did herself. Every one of 
 her parts was studied with him ; he was the most 
 patient of critics, and as there were sometimes 
 between them the differing opinions and free dis- 
 cussion that elicit truth, she owed not a little to 
 his observations. 
 
 Irene had been a good sister. Her temper 
 might be high and impatient with others, but 
 with him never. In the early days of his illness 
 his despondent moods were always met by her 
 with the gentlest patience ; she was never too 
 busy or too anxious to idle away as much time 
 beside his sofa as he liked ; she never let her own 
 affairs engross her or trouble him when he was 
 unfit for them. Those who only saw her outside 
 Yincenzo's room could never have guessed how
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 197 
 
 tender and patient the mirthful high-spirited girl 
 could be ; in truth, her buoyant temperament was 
 a great blessing both to her and to Vincenzo, 
 who needed a gayer spirit to make sunshine for 
 him — he enjoyed it as a chilly invalid does a 
 summer's day. None, however, could now call 
 him despondent or irritable. Mrs. Dalzell saw that 
 he had found out the solution of the problem 
 that had harassed him ; he was in truth contented 
 with his lot, but neither she nor Irene guessed 
 how sharp had been the contests he had fought and 
 won between those four walls where his life seemed 
 destined to be passed. He need hardly have 
 wished Irene to have any protector but himself; 
 though their natural position in life had been ex- 
 changed, she thoroughly trusted his judgment and 
 put entire confidence in him, and her affection for 
 him was so great that it was wonderful how Leone 
 contrived to steal any of it away. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, the best proof of how much he had obtained 
 was her fear lest Vincenzo should fancy he was 
 less to her in any way than before. But hers was 
 a generous young heart, quite capable of contain- 
 ing brother and lover and her art besides; it knew 
 nothing of that kind of selfish absorption into one 
 person which sometimes seems to make the family 
 of a bride nothing to her in comparison with the 
 new love. Leone could not have been Leone had 
 he grudged to share her with Vincenzo, his tried 
 friend, with whom had been divided all the perils 
 of the past eventful years. They had risked their 
 lives, hand in hand, as it were, for the same great 
 object, the object which had been Leone's boyish 
 dream and the aim of his manhood, the indepen- 
 dence of Italy. "With years his course of thought
 
 198 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 had advanced, deepened, widened, but never varied. 
 The dream of a strong mind becomes a purpose, 
 an action — and life had not smiled so softly on 
 him as to lull him into forgetf illness. He lived 
 with the knowledge that, sooner or later, for this 
 cherished hope he must suffer, and he had not 
 breathed a word that could link Irene's fate to his 
 own till the dangerous time had passed and the new 
 reign changed all things. 
 
 Leone might be looked on as the leader of a large 
 party, who demanded first the freedom of Italy, then 
 gradual reform, and stood between the Republicans 
 and the Grregoriani, as those were called who had 
 made fortunes under the old reign, detested each 
 change as if it had been a new heresy, and were 
 under Austrian influence. These and the ultra- 
 liberals unconsciously worked together, and spread 
 discontent even among the perpetual feasts and 
 processions which now had become almost a ne- 
 cessity to the Romans, whose southern nature, and 
 the training of nearly two thousand years, made 
 triumphs and demonstrations and excitement 
 meat and drink to them. The same nature dis- 
 posed them to plots, lotteries, and games of chance ; 
 they had grown accustomed to conspiracy under 
 preceding Popes, and all the horrible executions, 
 fines, and imprisonments only smothered the flame 
 in one place to make it break out more widely in 
 another, and induced a cowardly ferocity, instead 
 of the brave, firm spirit which alone ennobles a 
 people. Already, there were evil symptoms ; the 
 temporizing, cautious reforms aroused suspicion, 
 the bad harvests excited discontent, though Pio 
 ]S"ono's charity at the time of distress spread his 
 personal popularity, if possible, wider than ever.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 199 
 
 The Gregoriani fanned the discontent for one 
 end ; the ultra-liberals for another ; pamphlets 
 and papers, advocating violent measures, began 
 to be widely circulated, printed either secretly 
 or under the kind of demi-freedom granted to the 
 press ; and there were tumults in the provinces, 
 and the general hatred for the priests, especially 
 for the Jesuits, began to show itself. Already the 
 cry had been heard in the streets, ' Death to the 
 Neri ! Long live the Bianchi !' old names which be- 
 gan to be applied to the Priests and the Liberals ; 
 there was an electric thrill abroad, but Pio "Nono 
 was still in the height of his popularity ; still 
 the crowds nocked to the Quirinal to receive his 
 blessing from the balcony ; still, when he visited 
 the provinces, he was received with indescribable 
 enthusiasm ; the families to whom the amnesty 
 had given back beloved relations blessed him, and 
 a new and sincere spirit of devotion prevailed at 
 Eome. The people had been so much oppressed 
 under preceding reigns that every improvement, 
 however small, was received as if it came straight 
 from heaven ; how much more such an unexpected 
 and extensive reformation as that which began 
 with the rule of Pio Xono ? 
 
 Public events touched Irene and Yincenzo only 
 as they did every Eoman of every class. All took 
 a lively interest in them, and parties ran high ; 
 but as yet no hearth or home was troubled by 
 the course they took. Leone had an active share 
 in them, and daily brought reports of all that was 
 passing, but both he and Irene had a livelihood 
 to win, and were fully occupied. There was a 
 prospect of their marriage. If Leone could rise 
 to a higher post in the Dateria his salary would
 
 200 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 justify him in taking a wife ; he had not hitherto 
 been able to afford such a luxury, and all the 
 money he and his friends could muster had been 
 spent in printing and circulating their writings. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell, who thought that Irene gave herself 
 too little relaxation, made her come out with her 
 whenever a vigil closed the theatres, and gave at 
 once a holiday to the actors and time for serious 
 thought to the public. One afternoon she pro- 
 posed to visit the Corsini Gardens, where, as it 
 chanced, she had never been. She had been in- 
 terested by what she heard of Imelda Olivetti, 
 and proposed to Irene to take her with them. 
 Irene was uncertain, she doubted whether Signora 
 Olivetti would consent. She did not believe any 
 one but an Englishwoman would have proposed 
 such a thing ; a Roman would have been afraid of 
 the responsibility. 
 
 * My dear, what responsibility?' 
 
 ' Oh, a girl might make some acquaintance, or 
 get into mischief. I know the padrona would say, 
 4 If such a one asked me to take her daughter a 
 far due passi, I would ; but for proposing it myself 
 — giusto V 
 
 ' I wonder if all Italians are as good mimics as 
 you and the padrona,' said Mrs. Dalzell, laughing; 
 1 you all act by nature, I believe.' 
 
 ' Yes, when I see the English, I perceive that 
 they keep their hands still, they do not raise their 
 voices. I could not say two words in that wooden 
 way; and even Vincenzo, though he is so English, 
 has fingers that speak like oars, instead of being 
 silent like yours. As for acting, you know girls 
 are taught to recite, just as they are to work.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 201 
 
 1 To work, my dear ! Menica has just told me 
 she cannot mend this hole in my skirt.' 
 
 ' Oh, she is poor. Mistresses do not like a girl 
 to work ; they say, if she works well, she sits idle 
 like a lady, and does nothing else. But girls in 
 the upper classes have a mistress to teach them — 
 Imelda has one, and Gemma too ; you know she 
 brought in her frame yesterday.' 
 
 1 That is another peculiarity of yours. You do 
 plain work with a cushion, and what you call 
 Broderie Anglaise in a frame, but in England 
 embroidery has long been out of fashion — I dare 
 say we shall have it back some day.' 
 
 ' Do you know that we express very good plain 
 work by saying " It is sewn like an Englishwoman's 
 work." Imelda made teaching me to embroider an 
 excuse for our meetings, and I taught her English, 
 and Signora Olivetti liked that, or I hardly sup- 
 pose she would have let us be intimate, for I am 
 a Protestant, and — though that is not so bad — an 
 actress,' said Irene, raising her graceful head with 
 smiling pride. ' But the Olivetti have rather taken 
 the liberal side ; they pique themselves on en- 
 lightened opinions. They were once in England, 
 and the signora talks about English education, 
 and has kept Imelda at home, and given her a 
 very good one ; she has learnt French, and work, 
 and geography, and history, and music' 
 
 ' I thought you all learnt music ?' 
 
 ' Oh, not thoroughly ; that is an English mis- 
 take. But there are very good voices and correct 
 ears among the Romans. You ought to go to the 
 Philharmonic. Signora Olivetti has never let 
 Imelda be out of her sight ; they go very little 
 into society, but she is rather a friend of Madame
 
 202 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Marriotti's, and that is how they came to be there. 
 The other night, Gemma went with them, she has 
 such a good voice that Madame Marriotti is glad 
 to have her ; though, if you asked her,' said Irene, 
 putting on precisely the little fairy's expression, 
 * she would say, " Oh ; I can't bear the girl, and I 
 know she hates me ; but then, in a way I like any 
 one who sings as she does." So now we will see 
 if Signora Olivetti's liberality extends to letting 
 us have Imelda, but I shall wonder very much if 
 she says yes.' 
 
 Signora Olivetti, however, graciously consented, 
 perhaps prepossessed by Mrs. Dalzell's appear- 
 ance ; and the pretty Imelda joined them, blushing 
 and trembling with shyness and delight at so 
 unusual an expedition. 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell found her Italian more available 
 than Imelda' s English, as she did not mind making 
 mistakes, and Imelda did, and after every phrase 
 looked at Irene, to see if it were correct. 
 
 They took their way towards Ponte Sisto, Mrs. 
 Dalzell observing 'I said the carriage should come 
 for us, but it will be pleasanter to walk there.' 
 
 Imelda said ' si signora,' and no more, till pre- 
 sently she whispered, ' Are we not walking very 
 fast ?' 
 
 ' Xot for English people,' said Irene. ' Are you 
 afraid that some one should see you? The other day, 
 Madama Cecchi spoke to me seriously about the 
 pace at which I walk, and said it was really shock- 
 ing, and yet here is Mrs. Dalzell hardly able to 
 go slow enough for us.' 
 
 ' Ah !' said Imelda, with a sudden flush of bright 
 pleasure, as, raising her little hand in the air, she 
 fluttered her fingers in greeting to some one in a
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 203 
 
 carriage full of gentlemen. One of them lifted his 
 hat as they drove by, and Irene said, ' Ah, Luigi 
 Eavelli.' 
 
 It sent a pang to Mrs. Dalzell's kind heart to see 
 how that momentary meeting had lighted up the 
 young girl's sweet, childlike face ; fate had surely 
 dealt hardly with her in linking one so affectionate 
 and inexperienced to a man who deemed marriage 
 with her as almost the worst evil that could befall 
 him. 
 
 ' You have known Signor Eavelli all your life ?' 
 she asked. 
 
 'Always. He was the same age as a brother 
 of mine who died. Carlo was very fond of him, 
 and while they were both in education, they, and 
 others, used constantly to go with their Pedante to 
 play in a large garden, which we have, some way 
 from our house, and then they were together in 
 papa's studio.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I don't know what a Pedante 
 means.' 
 
 Imelda looked as much abashed as if the want 
 of comprehension had been hers, and Irene came 
 to her aid. 
 
 1 You know people don't like their sons to go 
 to and from school alone, or to walk by themselves, 
 so they have some one, who is called a Pedante, 
 who takes charge of several boys, and walks out 
 with them on Sundays and festas.' 
 
 ' How long are boys kept under this sur- 
 veillance ?' 
 
 1 Till thirteen or fourteen.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell thought of English schoolboys. 
 
 1 And you used to meet in the garden, sig- 
 norina ?' she continued.
 
 204 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Imelda, scandalized. £ I used to 
 go there with mamma at other times — never when 
 the boys were there. Oh, Irene, do yon hear ?' 
 
 A door was open, and a mother was lulling her 
 child to rest with Leone's hymn. They had 
 reached the bridge, and stopped to look at the 
 view, perhaps the most beautiful of all those seen 
 from the Eoman bridges. Looking towards the 
 hills, the Tiber was spanned by Ponte Eotto, 
 under which the old black mills were turning 
 ceaselessly, almost level with the tawny water ; 
 the sunshine fell full on the ruins of the Palatine, 
 about the base of which had gathered a crowd of 
 modern buildings ; a brick Campanile, of the mid- 
 dle ages, rose high above them against the blue sky, 
 which was seen through its open arches ; beyond, 
 were the Latin Hills ; on the other hand, St. 
 Peter's stood pre-eminent in the distance ; nearer, 
 a stack of picturesque old houses were half-hidden 
 by orange trees, where golden fruit clustered 
 thickly ; women leant from the windows, long 
 lines of napping clothes hung out to dry; below 
 the ferry boat was crossing the river, impelled by 
 the current — modern and ancient Eome all mingled 
 together — everywhere were thrilling names con- 
 nected with all that was most glorious in the past. 
 The moderns are richer than their ancestors, the 
 past is theirs as well as the present ! 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell thought of the past ; Irene, as she 
 listened to the young mother's singing, thought of 
 the future. They were aroused at last by per- 
 ceiving that a respectable midale-aged man was re- 
 garding them with extreme perplexity; he looked 
 up the river towards the Palatine, down to Monte 
 Mario — still he could see nothing that explained
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 205 
 
 the pause and interest of the ladies, and after 
 another steadfast look at them and at the river, he 
 gave an audible grunt of dissatisfied marvel, and 
 walked on. They moved too, Mrs. Dalzell saying, 
 ' A worthy man, not given to poetry. "What part 
 do such as he take in politics ?' 
 
 Irene looked back for him. ' An artisan, toler- 
 ably well off, discontented with things as they are, 
 but not ready to sacrifice anything for the sake 
 of improving them. There is little patriotism in 
 such as he.' 
 
 ' Do you know him ?' askedlmelda, wondering. 
 
 ' Xot in the least, but I know how his class 
 feel.' 
 
 ' I wish I were as old and as clever as you. 
 Signor Nota tells you about these things,' said 
 Imelda, with a sigh, in which there was no envy, 
 but a consciousness that Eavelli did not think her 
 worthy of discussing politics with him. ' I remem- 
 ber I have heard papa and Signor Eavelli talk of — 
 "What can that be ?' 
 
 They stopped in great alarm at the frightful 
 shrieks which burst from a house in the bye street 
 where they now were. A few people were gathered 
 about the door, where a hired carriage was waiting ; 
 there was compassion on their faces, and Irene 
 learned that a child had been killed by an accident, 
 and that now it was to be carried away to the church, 
 but the mother would not believe it was dead, nor 
 allow it to be touched. The hysterical screams 
 were appalling. Imelda shrank close to Mrs. 
 Dalzell, but Irene exclaimed, ' I will be back 
 directly,' and went into the house. 
 
 ]S"o effect ensued, the crowd thickened, then a 
 murmur was heard among those on the outside,
 
 206 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 and all turned eagerly to a priest who walked 
 straight through them, and disappeared into the 
 house. Mrs. Dalzell had instantly recognised him, 
 and the manner in which the people repeated his 
 name told how well it was known. Gradual silence 
 followed his presence in the house of mourning ; 
 next several men came out bearing a bier covered 
 with a pall on which was a silver cross, and a few 
 women followed, holding lighted candles ; the 
 little corpse was placed in the carriage, all the men 
 present took off their hats in solemn homage to 
 the presence of death, probably the first token of 
 respect the pauper child had ever received. It 
 was a touching sight, though there was no cere- 
 mony, no brown-robed friars with waxen tapers and 
 chanted psalms ; the carriage drove away, the 
 crowd dispersed, except a few who lingered to catch 
 another glimpse of Padre Einaldi. The silence 
 that had succeeded the passionate grief struck cold 
 on the heart. Mrs. Dalzell breathed more freely 
 when Irene re-appeared, pale indeed but composed. 
 Evidently no new misfortune had occurred. 
 
 ' Irene ! how could you go in?' exclaimed Imelda, 
 hurrying her on. 
 
 ' I could not help it. One could not pass by 
 without trying to do something, but it was useless, 
 there was a frightful scene till Padre Einaldi came — 
 the poor mother tore her hair, and shrieked like 
 one possessed, and when she saw him she threw 
 herself at his feet, entreating that her boy might 
 not be taken away and thrown into a pit like a dog. 
 But he quieted her instantly, I cannot tell how ; 
 and very soon she let them take the body. He is 
 there still, but she was quite meek and patient 
 even before I came away, though she was really 
 like a wild beast before he entered.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 207 
 
 * How could you go in ? I should have been so 
 much afraid,' repeated Imelda. 
 
 1 One must try to do something when people 
 want help,' said Irene ; ' don't talk of it any more, 
 I want to think of something else.' 
 
 ' Here is the Corsini Palace/ said Imelda, 
 obedient as a child ; ' are we to go into the Cortile ?' 
 
 1 Is this as new to you as to me ?' asked Mrs. 
 Dalzell ; ' are you as ignorant of Eome as Irene 
 used to be ?' 
 
 ' I know the churches, signora. "We often go 
 into one when we go out.' 
 
 1 She knows nothing about Rome, Mrs. Dalzell,' 
 said Irene. ' You must learn to understand there 
 are two Eomes, I don't mean Pagan and Christian, 
 but one for foreigners and one for natives, and they 
 don't mix.' 
 
 1 Mamma has been in England,' said Imelda, for 
 the first time venturing directly to address Mrs. 
 Dalzell ; ' she liked it much. She has told me 
 about it. You have seen the tunnel under the 
 Thames ?' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell was obliged to confess that she had 
 not, and Imelda thought this quite as extraordinary 
 as did the English lady the little Italian's igno- 
 rance of Eome. 
 
 ' There is one thing besides that I should very 
 much like to see,' she added, ' a Quaker. Mamma 
 has a picture of a male and a female Quaker ; they 
 have brown dresses and a curious hat and cap. Do 
 they belong to some confraternity ?' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell found the Society of Friends so 
 difficult a subject that she wished William Penn 
 would arise and speak for himself; but her at- 
 tempts at explanation were cut short by the 
 appearance of a magnificent porter in cocked
 
 208 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 hat and grand livery, who conducted them across 
 the quadrangle, unlocked the ponderous iron 
 gates of the gardens, and let the visitors through, 
 leaving them to their own devices, and closing 
 and locking the gates with a clash. They now 
 stood in a wide avenue of ilex, whose gloomy 
 boughs, interlacing overhead, effectually excluded 
 the sunlight ; nearly a quarter of a mile farther on, 
 the ilexes were replaced by box and bay trees, 
 beneath which sun and shade divided the path 
 between them, trembling and nickering on the 
 ground and invading each other's dominions with 
 every breath of wind. The ladies heard the plash 
 of fountains as they walked onwards by banks 
 precipitous as a hill side, and covered with wild 
 rank herbage and tall trees. Mrs. Dalzell stooped 
 to gather a flower, and almost started, as looking 
 up, she saw, rising against a sky fabulously blue, 
 the unfamiliar grey ilex and dark cypress spire. 
 She said it was so delightful to be in Rome again, 
 that she marvelled afresh whenever she thus re- 
 alized that she was actually there. Irene told 
 her that in spring tide, the grassplats were per- 
 fectly clouded with violets, and asked Imelda if 
 she recollected gathering some in a particularly 
 pleasant expedition to the Villa Borghese. 
 
 ' Do you make an exception in favour of violet 
 scent, signorina ?' inquired Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 ' They are not so disagreeable,' replied the little 
 Roman. 
 
 Some discussion followed, concerning the love 
 and language of flowers at Veu^ce, perhaps brought 
 there from the East, and* Irene expressed her great 
 wish to visit the Queen of the Adriatic. Imelda 
 had never travelled further from home than
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 209 
 
 Albano, and wondered if she ever should; Mrs. 
 Dalzell suggested a wedding tour. 
 
 1 Oh, but,' said Imelda, ' I am sure Signor Eavelli 
 would not let Luigi go far away. Perhaps he might 
 allow him to go as far as L'Arriccia, and then we 
 should come back and live with Signor and Sig- 
 nora Eavelli. Luigi has always wanted to travel ; 
 he would like to have gone far away, as Count 
 Clementi has done, but they say he is too young.' 
 Mrs. Dalzell knew him to be at least three- 
 and-twenty, and as high spirited and manly a 
 youth as any in Eome. She smiled, and asked if 
 he were not busy in his profession, and whether 
 the count had none. 
 
 ' Oh no, he is noble,' said Imelda. 
 ' Yes, that really is a reason,' said Irene, rather 
 to Mrs. Dalzell than to Imelda ; ' you cannot expect 
 our nobles to put their sons into professions, when 
 the highest offices are closed against all but eccle- 
 siastics.' 
 
 1 Oh, a noble cannot have an impiego? said 
 Imelda. ' Has the signora seen Gemma Clementi ? 
 She always says that, when she marries, she must 
 see Paris and London, and that she will not live 
 with a mother-in-law. She is so strange ! Mamma 
 says she must have been brought up badly, for 
 she would not marry the husband whom her 
 uncle chose for her ! She saw him at Sta. Caterina, 
 where he came one day with her mother, and 
 guessed immediately that he was to be her sposo ; 
 but she did not object then, because she was 
 so desirous to leave the convent.' 
 
 * Do girls generally dislike the convent ?' 
 1 No,' said Irene, ' many are very fond of the 
 nuns, and when they first come out they all say 
 YOL. i. P
 
 210 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 they shall return and take the veil ; but Gemma 
 was always in trouble. Do you know what the usual 
 punishment is for a naughty girl? While the 
 others are dining, she has to kneel all the time in 
 the middle of the room, and there dines alone ; 
 and Gemma was too proud to bear this. Once she 
 fainted outright, and they were afraid to punish 
 her after that.' 
 
 ' I wonder if that girl would have been different 
 under different management,' said Mrs. Dalzell, 
 musingly. 
 
 ' So she came home,' continued Imelda, ' but 
 the first time the marchese came she hid behind a 
 curtain ; and the next, when the contessa sent 
 for her, she had gone to bed ; then her uncle was 
 very angry, and said she should go back to Sta. 
 Caterina ; yet, when next the marchese spent the 
 evening with them, and he wished her good even- 
 ing, Gemma said, ' Tou need not come again for I 
 detest you, and will never marry you — a happy 
 evening ;' and he went away, and soon after he 
 died.' 
 
 < Of grief?' 
 
 ' No, it was influenza, he was very old ; but is 
 it not strange of Gemma ? Mamma has not let 
 me see much of her ; I never heard of such a thing 
 before, except in an English book.' 
 
 Irene looked mischievous, and Mrs. Dalzell 
 perceived that such things did sometimes happen, 
 even in Eome. She asked what the English book 
 was. 
 
 ' One that Irene had ; we began it when she 
 gave me English lessons ; it was about a youth who 
 married without his mother's consent ; but mam- 
 ma said we had better not read it, because it was
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 211 
 
 wrong even to think of such things ; it might 
 happen in England, but Catholics would never 
 do so.' 
 
 1 1 hope it is as uncommon in England as among 
 Roman Catholics,' said Mrs. Dalzell, with some 
 emphasis ; but, perceiving by Irene's startled look 
 that she was on dangerous ground, she added, 
 * Now, suppose we go on ; I should like to go up 
 to that fountain.' 
 
 A wide night of steps lay before them, ending in 
 a stone platform ; another similar flight succeeded 
 with a fountain above it, on either side of which 
 were about six narrow and steep steps ; the water 
 came tumbling down over a succession of minia- 
 ture terraces into a basin, whence it disappeared 
 under ground. Low walls closed in the steps and 
 platforms, crowned by vases full of aloes, whose 
 stiff yet graceful leaves rose like a crown above 
 them. Mrs. Dalzell and the two girls sat down 
 on the lowest of the little steps by the fountain ; 
 Irene bared her arm and reached through the 
 dashing water for maidenhair fern to fringe the 
 bouquet which Mrs. Dalzell had collected, and 
 they sat in pleasant idleness and silence, lulled by 
 the sound of the waters, whose reflection waved on 
 the ground amid the shadows flung by two gigantic 
 plane trees, which leant forward into the blue air all 
 suffused with sunshine ; their huge roots had 
 almost shattered the walls beside which they grew. 
 Behind, cypresses, ilexes, and other trees formed a 
 background; below lay the far-reaching gardens, 
 divided by dark hedges into a main avenue, and a 
 succession of formal squares, each containing a 
 grass plat and a fountain, throwing up silver 
 plumes with a murmur lost in distance. The 
 
 p2
 
 212 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 white arcades of the palace rose beyond the high 
 iron trellises, bnt not a living creature was visible 
 about it — all was so still, so deserted, so untrim- 
 med, and yet so lovely, that it might have been the 
 domain of the Sleeping Beauty. Mrs. Dalzell 
 said so, and found that Imelda did not understand, 
 whereupon she gave an outline of the fairy tale 
 to Irene, and bade her tell it to the signorina in 
 Italian, which she did, filling it up with such 
 poetical embellishments as made Mrs. Dalzell 
 listen with as much interest as if it had been a new 
 story, and wonder if the power of improvisation 
 were inherent in all the children of the south, or if 
 it were only part of Irene's artist temperament. 
 
 ' Do you know who the Sleeping Beauty is, 
 Imelda?' asked Irene, after a pause. ' She is Italy ! 
 She has been laid in a magic trance ; but by an 
 evil, not a good fairy, and now is about to wake.' 
 Imelda had listened, with the utmost attention, 
 and now asked if English girls read such tales ? 
 Mrs. Dalzell found that she could not explain what 
 English story-books were, and asked what were 
 Imelda' s favourites; expecting, from Irene's as- 
 sertion that her friend had been well educated, 
 that ' Dante,' or ' D'Azeglio,' might be the answer. 
 After some consideration came a reply. 
 ' I have read the History of Rome.' 
 ' But you don't read that for amusement ?' 
 ' No,' Imelda replied, evidently uncertain what 
 she did read for amusement. ' Mamma says that 
 when I am married I may read romances. Gemma 
 reads them now — in French . I want to read 
 some that mamma has, translated from the Eng- 
 lish ; they are written by the Signor Gualtiero 
 Scott, a cavaliere, I think he was. Luigi likes 
 them.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 21-3 
 
 c Ah ! you heard us discussing them !' said 
 Irene. 
 
 1 Yes, I know he liked them ; and Signor Xota 
 said Grossi's books owed a great deal to them ; 
 but I could not understand, as I never read them 
 nor those of Grossi ; I cannot talk as you do,' 
 said Imelda, remembering how Ravelli had turned 
 to Irene when he found that she understood what 
 he was talking of. ' But some day I shall read a 
 great deal if Luigi will let me.' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell was so much attracted by the in- 
 nocent look and manner, that she took the young 
 girl's hand and said, ' I am quite sure that he will 
 wish it, and you will find a great many English 
 books that you will think very pleasant reading. 
 Three years ago Irene read as little as you ; when 
 you are as old, I dare say you will know as much.' 
 
 ' It would please me,' said Imelda, looking up 
 at Irene with a shy smile ; and Mrs. Dalzell 
 wondered whether Bavelli really could be in- 
 different to this engaging child ; perhaps it might 
 be that he was too young himself to feel the 
 charm of her affection and simplicity ; and one 
 older, whose love was more vehement and less 
 attainable, might easily bewitch him more. She was 
 occupied by grave musings as to how the entangle- 
 ment would end, and whether Signora Olivetti were 
 blind to the true state of the case ; and she said 
 little more till roused by the voices of a party of 
 men, going past on the road, behind and below 
 the gardens, towards the gate of San Pancrazio. 
 They were singing in parts with great spirit, and 
 once more it was Leone's hymn. Irene heard 
 with a thrill of proud delight ; as the voices died 
 away in the distance, she rose and pointed to the
 
 21-4 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 hills, whence the last sunset tints were vanishing. 
 The city was fast melting into blue twilight, if 
 indeed twilight can be said to exist in Italy ; a 
 fire-fly darted past and vanished in the ilexes. It 
 was indeed time to go, and as they slowly walked 
 back to the gates, darkness came on so fast that 
 only voices close at hand revealed that others were 
 in the garden though unseen. ' Leone !' murmured 
 Irene, and they distinguished, the next moment, 
 what he was saying. ' Out with the barbarians ! 
 let reforms wait ; though, if ever they were needed, 
 we need them ; but, before all things, let us be 
 free ; let us devote ourselves to driving out the 
 Austrians — our soil has been trampled by them 
 far too long.' 
 
 ' Eight !' answered a voice, whose deep music 
 came thrilling on the ear ; ' freedom we seek for ; 
 without freedom, religion is oppressed, but without 
 religion, liberty becomes anarchy.' 
 
 lie paused, perceiving he had other auditors 
 besides Leone ; Mrs. Dalzell stood once more face 
 to face with Padre Einaldi. Iinelda kissed his 
 hand, and he told Irene that he had left the poor 
 mother calm and resigned. Leone had not heard 
 of the incident, which Irene briefly explained as 
 they walked back through the quadrangle, where 
 Padre Einaldi took leave of them, and they paused 
 an instant to watch his tall figure disappear in the 
 thickening shades of the Lung' Ara, before they 
 got into the carriage which stood waiting for them. 
 
 1 1 should hardly have expected to find many of 
 your acquaintances among the priests, Leone,' said 
 Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 1 have more enemies than friends among them.' 
 
 1 Oh, Signor Xota !' said Iinelda.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 215 
 
 1 She is thinking of our Roman saying,' said 
 Irene, ' The vengeance of a priest endures to the 
 seventh generation !' 
 
 'That is a terrible proverb, Irene,' said Mrs. 
 Dalzell, startled. 
 
 I You will often hear it quoted, signora ; but 
 Padre Einaldi is an exception even among the good 
 menoi'his profession ; and there are many excellent, 
 devoted priests, but very few who have broken the 
 bonds of circumstance sufficiently to be reformers. I 
 am proud to be called his friend ; there is not a man 
 on earth more truly Italian in heart than he. "When 
 I meet with one of that stamp, I could fall on my 
 knees before him ; for none can conceive the 
 enormous yoke of past precedent and authority 
 which a priest has to shake off before he can think 
 for himself and dare to be a patriot.' 
 
 I I am afraid of him,' half whispered Imelda ; 
 1 he always seems to know what I am thinking of.' 
 
 ' "What would Signor Eavelli say to that, 
 Bignorina ?' 
 
 Imelda smiled and whispered to Irene, 'I am sure 
 Padre Einaldi would say I am too silly to be Luigi's 
 wife ; I always feel so when I hear Luigi or the 
 padre talking of politics, but I like to listen.' 
 
 1 Yes, I know you do,' answered Irene, laughing 
 and sighing ; ' you are very patriotic when Eavelli 
 talks of Italy.' 
 
 They left Imelda at her own dwelling, and re- 
 turned to Palazzo Clementi. Irene had scarcely 
 entered the sitting-room, and begun to detail their 
 adventures to Yincenzo, before Leone, who had 
 lingered to speak to Mrs. Dalzell, came in with a 
 joyous, bounding step, and exclaimed, ' I have 
 news for you ; I kept it till you were both together.'
 
 216 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 He stood where he could see the faces of both 
 brother and sister, Yincenzo lying on a sofa, Irene 
 seated in a low chair beside him. Both looked up 
 smiling and inquiring, as if catching a vision of 
 good news from his own glad face. 
 
 ' Farini is to be promoted,' he said ; then paus- 
 ing; to see what effect the announcement would 
 have. Farini was the man who held a post in the 
 Dateria just above him. An exclamation escaped 
 Irene, she coloured brightly, and looked up with 
 eager anxiety. Yincenzo held closer the hand she 
 had just put into his, as he answered, l That is news 
 worth hearing, Leone ! JS'ow you are sure of a 
 step !' 
 
 ' It will certainly be hard if I do not get it, 
 after keeping my post by miracle all this time ! 
 Assunta's husband must almost have worn out his 
 interest in protecting me ; I know he thinks it 
 was for his sins that he ever was cursed with a 
 liberal brother-in-law ! Yes, I must have Farini' s 
 post unless some one is raised over my head, and I 
 don't think fortune will play me such a trick. 
 It has not been officially announced yet ; but we 
 all know that Farini is to have a rise, and I, for 
 one, am quite ready to congratulate him. And 
 then, Irene ?' he added, playfully, but his dark eyes 
 spoke eloquently as he looked at her. 
 
 She had laid her head on Yincenzo' s shoulder, 
 and it was he who answered, putting the hand he 
 had been holding into Leone's, ' If she has nothing 
 to say, I have, Leone ; I make her over to you,' 
 and Irene did not object. 
 
 It was important news v . Leone, when raised a 
 step in his business, would be able to afford to 
 marry. They had repeatedly calculated the chances
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 217 
 
 of such good fortune, and vet it was startling when 
 it did come. Irene sat almost silent, with a sweet, 
 serious look, as Leone spoke of the future ; Yin- 
 cenzo answered more warmly than she did, but 
 Irene never said much when most happy. Leone 
 knew her of old, and he looked anything hut dis- 
 satisfied. Tincenzo did not feel himself in their 
 way ; both looked to him for sympathy, almost as 
 much as to each other, and he was deeply sensible 
 of the delicacy that had prompted Leone to with- 
 hold this news, till he could share it with him as 
 well as with Irene. 
 
 After awhile Irene rose to seek Xanna, who 
 had grown very infirm of late, so much so, that 
 she was quite unable to escort Irene to and from 
 the theatre or to Madame Marriotti's house, near 
 as it was ; and she had been superseded in this 
 office by an elderly person, whom Madama Cecchi 
 knew and could trust, to the great displeasure of 
 the old nurse, though she had grumbled whenever 
 obliged to go. She had taken Irene's betrothal 
 greatly to heart ; Leone was no favourite of hers, 
 he had never given her a paul in his life ; he 
 was poor and not noble ; Xanna considered that 
 Irene was throwing herself away, and would 
 have felt that she was doing her young mistress a 
 kindness by preventing such a marriage. It was 
 such a straightforward thing too ! Xanna would 
 so have enjoyed a little mystery ; it was hard that 
 Irene would never give her a chance of carrying 
 notes or messages, and making a scudo or two by 
 them ! 
 
 Irene had really suffered not a little during the 
 past year from Xanna' s increasing ill-humour ; but 
 she bore with her for the sake of her past services,
 
 218 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 and even turned as deaf an ear as she could when 
 JNanna gave a slap at Leone. 
 
 Influenza had been prevalent at Rome that 
 autumn, the fatal Roman grippa ; Madama Cecchi 
 had had it, the servants had been laid up with it ; 
 there was a mortality in the city, though no one in 
 Palazzo Clementi had yet died of it. JNanna had 
 been complaining all the last week, and had become 
 strangely altered. She was more bent and hag- 
 gard, her coffee-coloured skin had assumed a ghastly 
 hue, and the severe bleeding, which was the fa- 
 vourite remedy for grippa, had drained away all 
 her strength. Irene found her out of spirits and 
 hardly appearing to hear her cheerful greeting. 
 She sat down by her, and told her where she had 
 spent the afternoon, but Nanna's head was wander- 
 ing after other matters, and presently she mut- 
 tered, ' Tou will be going to marry him soon, 
 Jiglia /' Irene almost believed that she must have 
 been thinking aloud, and asked quickly, ' AVho 
 told you that, Nanna ?' 
 
 The old woman looked up sharply, her dimmed 
 eyes brightened, and it was with her old look of 
 mingled coaxing and cunning that she answered : 
 ' I know, I know, my darling — when is it to be ?' 
 
 ' I cannot quite tell you, JSTanna, but Leone is 
 to have a better post in the Dateria soon, and then 
 I suppose — I hope — we shall be able to marry. 
 Say you are glad, dear nurse, you have always been 
 so kind to me V 
 
 ' Ay, Jiglia. I am glad, to be sure ; and so 
 you are very happy ?' said Nanna, passing her 
 wrinkled hand over the glossy braids of Irene's 
 hair. ' So my darling is to be married ! — ah, 
 well— well !'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 219 
 
 Irene stayed a little while longer and left her 
 looking quite alive again, so much so, that as soon 
 as she was alone, she hobbled to the door, peered 
 out till assured that no one was near, and then 
 went across to the apartment of the Contessa 
 Clementi.
 
 220 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 Chi luogo e tempo aspetta, 
 Vede altm la sua vendetta. 
 
 JProverb. 
 
 WHATEYEE might be the information con- 
 veyed by JNanna, it was forwarded immedi- 
 ately by Gemma to her brother, but he did not write 
 to her in return, and nearly a fortnight elapsed 
 uneventfully. The days were at their shortest, 
 darkness had come down on the palace, the foun- 
 tain murmured in the quadrangle, the corridors 
 were wrapped in gloom. A little spot of red 
 light, glowing through one of the high grated 
 windows of the Contessa dementi's apartment, 
 showed that candles had been lighted within. 
 The contessa and her daughter sat together — the 
 former, a frail invalid, leaning in her arm-chair, 
 her white thin hand resting on a book of prayers, 
 which lay on a table beside her, her feet on a kind 
 of stool filled with hot charcoal. There was no 
 fire nor stove in the large dreary room, which was 
 only lighted by a single candle on the table ; heavy 
 red curtains draped the windows and doors ; along 
 the walls stood large ancient chairs of black wood, 
 much gilt, whereon many generations of Clementi 
 had sat ; a piano was the only modern piece of 
 furniture. 
 
 Opposite to her mother sat Gremma, like her,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 221 
 
 wrapped in a shawl. She was at work on some 
 rich material, embroidered with gold thread, stiff 
 with decoration, and doubtless intended as a man- 
 tle for some image of the Virgin. The table was 
 half covered with gold and silver thread and pat- 
 terns ; her needle moved fast, less as if it were a 
 labour of love than a vent for concealed impa- 
 tience ; and she scarcely made any response 
 when her mother's querulous voice uttered, from 
 time to time, complaints of her daughter's unsoci- 
 ability. 
 
 ' I was just as well off when you were in the 
 convent, Gremma,' said she ; ' I thought when you 
 came home I should have a companion, but I find 
 your aunt is right in thanking Heaven that she has 
 no daughters.' 
 
 1 She has certainly not the trouble of marrying 
 them,' answered Gremma, without lifting her eyes 
 from the golden flowers that grew fast upon her 
 work. 
 
 1 There again, Gremma, you might have been well 
 married ; you would have been a widow now, with 
 a good fortune, if you had not been so perverse. 
 Who do you suppose will marry a girl with no 
 monev, and what is to become of you when I am 
 dead ? 
 
 ' It does not matter,' answered the girl, half 
 aloud, and tapping her foot on the floor. 
 
 ' What are you saying ? I cannot hear a word. 
 I wish Pietrucchio would write or come home, I 
 miss him dreadfully ; and I cannot understand what 
 this journey means, or where the money to travel 
 with comes from, or what he is about, mixing him- 
 self up with these low people ; but as long as his 
 uncle is satisfied, I am. I do insist, Gemma, that
 
 222 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 you show yourself more respectful towards your 
 uncle. Recollect that he can send you back to Sta. 
 Caterina when he pleases/ 
 
 ' I almost wish I were there,' said Gemma, 
 breaking her thread in utter impatience, but not 
 speaking loud enough to be heard. ' May I go to 
 my aunt ? 3 she asked, standing up. 
 
 ' Your aunt does not want you ; she has visitors, 
 or she would have come here. Why are you in a 
 hurry to go ? "When I was a girl, I sat all day 
 at my work, and never wanted to leave my mother's 
 side ; but as for you, you are always desirous to 
 leave me.' 
 
 ' You did very well without me for a good many 
 years, mamma,' said Gemma, thinking to herself 
 that she had not been brought up to find a mother 
 her natural companion. 
 
 ' That is a reason why you should make up for 
 it the more now ; you were noble, your uncle got 
 admittance at Sta. Caterina for you, like other girls 
 of your rank ; we could not afford to send you to 
 the Sagro Cuore. You learn these strange ideas 
 from Mademoiselle Mori, I suppose.' 
 
 ' There is my uncle,' said Gemma, who had been 
 listening attentively to the sound of a carriage 
 driving into the quadrangle, and now caught the 
 sound of approaching steps. 
 
 ' Your uncle ? he must have come on business — 
 I hope you have got on with that work, or he will 
 be displeased,' said the contessa, rising feebly but 
 hastily to receive the relation who ruled the whole 
 family with despotic power. A liveried servant, 
 who, when in his undress, enacted the parts of both 
 cook and housemaid in the establishment, threw 
 open the door, and announced Monsignore Cle-
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 223 
 
 menti, and an ecclesiastic entered, saluted his 
 sister-in-law. suffered Gemma to kiss his hand, and 
 seated himself in one of the ponderous chairs which 
 the footman had placed for him near the table. 
 A short and solemn pause ensued ; the contessa 
 looked nervous and anxious ; Gemma resumed 
 her work, but a ray of hope lit the eyes which she 
 occasionally turned towards the door. 
 
 Mod signoreClementi was, like ahundredother men 
 of his age and position, of middle stature, with a 
 large, bald forehead, and dark eyes, small and astute, 
 a face at once self-indulgent and shrewd, a figure in- 
 clined to corpulence, but not without a certain dignity. 
 
 The silence remained unbroken till he said, with 
 a glance at Gemma, ' By and by I shall have some- 
 thing to say to you, my dear sister.' 
 
 1 Instantly,' replied the contessa, in evident 
 trepidation. ' Gemma, it is growing late — your 
 uncle permits you to retire.' 
 
 ' A happy night, my dear uncle,' said Gemma, 
 again kissing his hand ; then she saluted her 
 mother, and left the room. A few moments after 
 she returned to another door leading into it, 
 listened for a moment with a look of the bitterest 
 scorn to her uncle's voice laying down the law, 
 and the hasty and submissive replies of her mother, 
 and then softly glided into the ante-room. The 
 next instant she stood outside in the corridor, 
 glancing fearfully up and down with a guilty 
 look. ]N"o one was in sight, and with swift steps 
 she hurried down the first flight of stairs, pausing 
 in the midst of the darkness on the landing-place. 
 A voice whispered, ' I am here,' and the hand put 
 out to feel for her, drew her into the angle, where 
 stood, unseen, but not unexpected, Eavelli.
 
 224 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 'Ah!' she said, grasping his hand with a sigh 
 of relief, ' you are there ! ' 
 
 ' I have waited at least an hour; but it was very- 
 well you were here no sooner. My princess, do 
 you know that I encountered your reverend uncle ? 
 I was in the corridor, and had no resource, except 
 to become your gardener, and be very busy with 
 the orange-trees, and he stopped and bade me look 
 after the garden better. I thought some awkward 
 questions might be coming, but some excellent 
 person called " Pa/' down below, so I begged his 
 pardon, and answered the summons before " Pa " 
 could appear.' 
 
 He was still overflowing with mirth at his 
 adventure. Gemma broke in impetuously, ' Do 
 you know why he came ? I can tell you — I should 
 not be here if he had not come. What a life it is 
 — watched day and night, threatened continually 
 with the convent, or to be sold to some old man, 
 who may be the greatest wretch on earth for ought 
 they care, so long as he is rich. There they are 
 discussing it now — mamma saying, " Noble of 
 course" — my uncle, "I have begged Mattel to 
 write me word if he hear of a good match for 
 her ; but with her small dowry we must not be 
 too particular." ' 
 
 1 Let them try to sell you if they dare ! de- 
 menti is for us, the times are for us ; only do not 
 you give way, Gemma,' and his tone was pas- 
 sionately earnest. 
 
 'I!' she answered with a low scornful laugh, 
 though she had shivered from head to foot at her 
 brother's name — ' I ! And you see that the whole 
 world cannot prevent our meeting.' 
 
 1 No, while they are quietly planning your mar-
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 225 
 
 riage. Fate is hard on us, Gemma, is she not ? 
 but we will conquer her yet ; yes, all the three 
 Fates. Come the worst, we will try a little poverty 
 together and another country.' 
 
 ' Anywhere ! I could breathe more freely in any 
 place but this.' 
 
 1 England, which has sheltered so many exiles ? 
 ]So, too cold and foggy ; Spain would do better — 
 Spain, sunnier even than our Italy. I will turn 
 fisherman, and we will have a cottage under the 
 rocks near the blue sea, with vines and fig-trees, 
 and you shall sing to me while I mend my nets, 
 and we will fly away like the swallows and forget 
 Italy, Gemma.' 
 
 ' Tou are not in earnest,' she replied, sullenly. 
 
 ■ Xo, I am not in earnest,' he returned, with a 
 light laugh, that showed how rapidly vehemence 
 and carelessness succeeded each other in his gay 
 and variable mind ; ' I could not forget my old 
 love for my new — Eome held me captive long be- 
 fore you did, Gemma.' 
 
 ' If that's all you have to say, I may as well go 
 back,' she answered, seeking to free her hands, 
 which he held fast, exclaiming, ' Silly child ! who 
 knows when we may be able to meet again ? Do 
 you think I shall let you go in this way ? Stay, I 
 am in earnest, quite in earnest now ; suppose this 
 marriage project come to anything, what are we 
 to do?' 
 
 ' You had better marry Imelda Olivetti.' 
 
 ' They shall fish me drowned out of the Tiber 
 first. "What do I know of a child whom I never 
 see except by her mother's side ? Let my father 
 answer it to the Olivetti as he can — I have told 
 him, as plainly as I can speak, that I do not feel 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 myself bound by this — this family project. I 
 know one who would marry us, Gemma, if it 
 comes to the point ; there is always that resource, 
 let what will come after.' 
 
 ' I am ready,' was her reply. 
 
 He uttered some ardent words of gratitude. 
 ' But why,' he added, ' why do you always protest 
 against my speaking to your brother ? Do you 
 think he does not see that I love you ? Clementi 
 not see it ! he who sees everything ; why he has 
 countenanced it by seeming not to see.' 
 
 ' JS"o, don't trust — don't — don't — oh, put your- 
 self in no one's power, trust no one,' she whis- 
 pered fast and low. 
 
 ' Not even you ? ' 
 
 'You do trust me?' asked Gemma, suspiciously, 
 and bitterly repenting what she had said. 
 
 ' Yes, I trust you, Gemma,' answered Ravelli, 
 with momentary sternness ; for blind as his love 
 was, he felt that one so well practised in deceiving 
 others might one day deceive him also. ' I trust 
 you ; and take care you do not cheat me, for if you 
 do I will never trust man nor woman more, and 
 never forgive it ! ' 
 
 For a moment all was storm in Gemma's mind. 
 She had rarely heard that tone on the lips of the 
 light-hearted Luigi, and she exclaimed, 'If you 
 loved me, you would not speak so. I know you 
 would cast me off, if you thought my brother was 
 a Papista.' 
 
 ' Have I done so because you are the niece of 
 Monsignore Clementi ? Do you think I don't know 
 what he is, with his spies in every cafe I "What is 
 that to me, while you are my own Gemma ?' said 
 Eavelli, instantly repentingj as he perceived how 
 much moved she was.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 227 
 
 I Hush ! hush !' she whispered iu terror, shrink- 
 ing close to him, as a step became audible on the 
 stairs. ' Who can be coming ? Oh, let me go !' 
 
 Instead of releasing her, Eavelli clasped her 
 fast and close ; they held their breath, as a ray of 
 light came up and illuminated a little space around 
 — the intruder had a lamp ! All her courage 
 scarcely enabled her to remain still, though, like 
 Eavelli, she had remembered that her own door 
 would be closed, and to be found standing outside 
 would be as fatal as being discovered on the stairs. 
 They drew back -into the furthest corner, her face 
 hidden against him, and his arm thrown protect- 
 ingly around her, as he watched, with a defiant 
 look, for the new comer. The light increased and 
 came nearer, but they still stood in deep shadow. 
 Some one wrapped in a cloak passed, without 
 casting a glance around, and the sound of his steps 
 died away in the corridor. Eavelli muttered a 
 thanksgiving, but Gemma seemed still stupified 
 with alarm, and bade him imperiously to let her 
 go. ' Giorgio will open the door, I am sure — don't 
 keep me one moment,' she repeated, as Eavelli 
 urged caution and sought to fix another meeting, 
 and the next instant she had flown down the cor- 
 ridor, and throwing something against a window, 
 leant against the wall, waiting in great impatience 
 till the servant opened the door, peeped out, and 
 admitted her. 
 
 ' Signorina, signorina, do you know that the 
 count has returned ?' he whispered. 
 
 I I know,' said Gremma, ' I heard his step,' and 
 she immediately went into her mother's room. 
 Clementi was there, so was monsignore his uncle, 
 by whom, perhaps, the nephew's arrival was not 
 
 Q2
 
 228 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 wholly unexpected, and there appeared to be no want 
 of cordiality between them, though rumour said that 
 they had been at daggers drawn, ever since the 
 young count had openly taken the popular side. 
 
 Gemma met her brother with composure that 
 did not betray her inward alarm, and he showed 
 no consciousness of having already seen her, 
 but she knew him too well to be reassured by 
 this. The contessa was excited into unusual 
 talkativeness by her son's sudden return, and 
 Gemma sat by in silence, growing every moment 
 less able to control herself, till Clement! called 
 her aside. She faced him boldly. His first words 
 were, ' I acted on your letter.' 
 
 They restored all her audacity. * It was worth 
 sending, was it not ?' 
 
 ' Yes. Have you no more to tell me ?' 
 
 ' Nanna is very ill, but there is nothing else 
 new.' 
 
 ' Very good,' said Clementi, then looking at her 
 with a rapid, stealthy glance. ' The stairs are cold 
 at night/ He had seen them ! She looked full 
 at him in silence, and he continued, ' Be so 
 kind as to be cautious ; people may think we 
 lean too much to the liberal side \ and he was 
 going back to his seat when she exclaimed, low, 
 but emphatically, ' Take care ! I should make a 
 dangerous enemy.' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' answered Clementi, very quietly, ' I 
 have no wish to quarrel with so useful an ally ; in 
 fact, neither of us could do without the other at 
 present, only be careful lest, for the honour of the 
 family, I should be obliged to notice the affair.' 
 
 ' You know what lie came for,' said Gemma, 
 with a glance at her uncle. ' Mind ! no marrying.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 229 
 
 ' "We agreed on that point long ago ; I tell you 
 we cannot afford to play each other false,' replied 
 Clementi ; ' come back, there is no need to say any 
 more.' 
 
 Monsignore Clementi had no more time for his 
 niece's affairs that night. He remained late, shut 
 up with his nephew, and any one who had caught 
 a glimpse of the two, the old man with his astute 
 face supported on his hand, his keen eyes fixed 
 on his nephew, and his whole attention given to 
 some matter which the younger man was demon- 
 strating with acute and rapid explanations, by the 
 help of the papers which covered the whole table 
 between them — any one who had witnessed this 
 scene would have suspected that Count Pierfran- 
 cesco Clementi was giving an account of his mis- 
 sion to the wrong party. Nor would they have 
 conjectured amiss. 
 
 By birth and education, Clementi belonged to 
 those who for years had oppressed the liberals, 
 and laboured to extinguish every spark of reform 
 with sword, banishment, fine, and imprisonment — 
 of whom it was justly said that they exterminated 
 the liberals without compassion for the tears of wo- 
 men or the cries of children — who organized a vast 
 system of espionage, and caused the Papal G-overn- 
 ment to be held in abhorrence ; while the people 
 became daily more corrupted by the degradation 
 and treachery which such a system generated. This 
 party were losing ground every day ; they were in 
 disgrace ; those whom they had oppressed, ruled 
 over them, and they necessarily cherished a deadly 
 hatred towards the triumphant side, and the Pope 
 who had caused their own downfall. Their only 
 chance of regaining their ancient power was to
 
 230 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 drive the people to such excesses as should terrify 
 the friends of reform, and the ultra-liberals aided 
 them but too well. 
 
 It was no hope of bettering his fortune, that 
 had led Count Clementi from the ranks of the 
 Keri into those of the Bianchi. Three years back 
 he had little foreseen where 1847 would find him. 
 Admiration for Irene had led him to seek the 
 acquaintance of Vincenzo, when he discovered that 
 JSTanna could not help him, a fact which she con- 
 cealed from him as long as possible. The few words 
 that passed in their first meeting, and the book which 
 Vincenzo was studying, instantly showed him what 
 line he must take in order to propitiate her ; but 
 far too adroit to feign himself one of a party whom 
 he could hardly be supposed not to detest, he pre- 
 sented himself in the tempting light of a possible 
 convert, allowed Vincenzo to overcome one pre- 
 judice after another, seeking out, at the same time, 
 men known for their liberal opinions, so as to give 
 consistency to his conduct, and finally, deceiving 
 even those most suspicious, and reluctant to trust 
 a ci-devant Papista. His was a strange and most 
 subtle nature, full of fiery passions, yet able 
 entirely to conceal them, and waiting for the right 
 moment for months or years before the slightest 
 sign of them was given ; and his singularly acute 
 and crafty mind delighted in weaving scheme after 
 scheme, always unweariedly constructing them 
 anew if the threads were broken. To win Irene 
 was the point on which he had centred all his 
 powers. He had instantly divined Nota's feelings 
 towards her, and assured himself that she did not 
 see or think about them ; but Nota's long silence 
 was a mystery to him, till it struck him that she 

 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 231 
 
 must have silenced him, as had been the case 
 with himself the first time he had ventured be- 
 yond friendship. He had then instantly drawn 
 back, apparently content to be her friend only. 
 He bided his time. Meanwhile it did not suit 
 him to lose the favour of his uncle, and he found 
 it convenient to be one of the many spies whom 
 Monsignore Clementi privately maintained ; and 
 thus — while an absolute breach seemed to have 
 taken place between them, and they ignored each 
 other if they met in public, the secrets of the 
 Bianchi quietly passed into the keeping of the 
 enemy without any suspicion being aroused. 
 
 JNever had Clementi been more perplexed than 
 when admitted to a knowledge of the secret society 
 founded by Leone. He would gladly have betrayed 
 him, and got rid of him for ever ; but he could 
 hardly do so without raising such suspicion as 
 would for ever divide himself from Irene. The 
 police, however, got scent of the association, and 
 as a preliminary measure, ordered Vincenzo to 
 leave Rome — a step particularly unwelcome to Cle- 
 menti, who hastened secretly to exert all his in- 
 terest to annul the order, and succeeded. "While 
 they were seeking for further intelligence of the 
 society, Pope Gregory died,' and a new reign had 
 begun. 
 
 GJ-emma had been a useful auxiliary to her 
 brother, who was perfectly aware of her connexion 
 with Ravelli, and allowed it on the tacit condition 
 that she should keep up an intimate acquaintance 
 with Irene, to whom he had made her known as 
 soon as she came home from her convent. To her 
 and Nanna he owed the information of Leone's 
 expected promotion, on which he had instantly
 
 232 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 acted. Gemma knew well what was the price set 
 upon her meetings with B-avelli, and she, more- 
 over, knew Clementi too well to believe he would 
 countenance them a moment longer than he could 
 help. She feared she might have gone a step 
 too far this evening. Often and often she had 
 been on the point of avowing all to Ravelli, but 
 always the double fear of him and of her brother 
 sealed her lips, though the struggle was horrible 
 as she felt the net closing on her, and knew she 
 dared not be true, even to him. 
 
 Leone's engagement to Irene had been a blow 
 altogether unexpected by Clementi. In the uncer- 
 tainty of the time of its termination in marriage, it 
 had never been publicly avowed, and even Nanna 
 had but lately been told of it. To delay such a 
 termination, to wait in hope that time might bring 
 him good fortune, was all that Clementi could do ; 
 but he never for a moment doubted his ultimate 
 success. ~No sleuth hound could have tracked its 
 prey more patiently and obstinately, or more 
 fiercely than he, and, thoroughly aware of the 
 feelings of both the rival parties in Rome, he 
 foresaw the coming outburst, and perceived that 
 at such a time a rival might easily disappear 
 from the scene. When Leone was gone, Clementi 
 would remain with the claim of a love constant 
 through repulse, older even than Leone's ; Irene 
 — the true, frank, loving Irene — must be his at 
 last! 
 
 The conversation between the nephew and uncle 
 terminated deep in the night. As Monsignore 
 Clementi rose to go, he said with indifference, ' I 
 attended to that affair of young Nota's ; you were 
 right to warn me ; such as he must be kept down.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 233 
 
 My people tell me that when he comes into the 
 cafes, the young men call out, " Here is Nota ; 
 come, Leone, tell us something of the old times;" 
 and it seems he is an improvisatore. Improvisa- 
 tion ought to be forbidden by law; such as he fill 
 people's heads with treason. He must be looked 
 after.' 
 
 1 Of course, nor would it be well for young 
 Luigi Eavelli to have the Olivetti fortune to add 
 to his own ; I would take every opportunity of 
 hinderiug that marriage.' 
 
 1 \Ve keep an eye upon him also; but mark you, 
 my nephew,' said Monsignore Clementi, pausing, 
 with the forefinger of his right hand on the palm 
 of his left — ' mark you, such as he are working for 
 us ; he throws himself headlong into the arms of 
 the extreme party without seeing where they are 
 rushing. It is they who are our chief auxiliaries. 
 I could count you at this moment how many 
 agents of ATazzini there are in Rome, sent, as you 
 know, first to Paris — supplied there with money — 
 forwarded here. \Ve know their movements as 
 well as Alazzini himself, but do we interfere with 
 them ? Xo. The times and the extremists are 
 tending one way, let them alone ; by-and-bye they 
 will think temporal reforms are not enough, they 
 will attack the spiritual power, and then it is our 
 turn. The tide will turn, but we must let it reach 
 its height first.' 
 
 ' There are few who contemplate the future as 
 calmly as you,' said Clementi. 
 
 ' \Ye raise an outcry as if heaven and earth 
 were coming together, instead of there being every 
 prospect that our power will stand firmer than 
 ever. Pio ]S"ono is above all things a priest ;
 
 234 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 that is what these men have yet to find out ; we 
 have not a king at our head, but a Pope ; Pio is 
 not Henry VIII. of England. Look at the English 
 Reformation ; the Parliament and nation believed 
 they were merely coDtrolling the temporal power 
 of the clergy — how did that end ? Do you sup- 
 pose they foresaw it would land them in Protes- 
 tantism ? ]N"ot they ; the actors in events never see 
 where they will be carried. Here, let men make 
 this a lay Government, and the spiritual will go 
 too, but it will rise again. It is the moderatists 
 whom we have to dread — men after the Pope's 
 own heart — men like Rossi, who want to go gra- 
 dually — that would ruin everything.' 
 
 ' The spirit of the times is too strong for them,' 
 said Clementi ; ' they will be carried away by it, 
 like a reed on the Tiber. Once let any Italian 
 state break out into revolution, and the wildfire 
 will spring up here spontaneously. You saw how 
 ready it is to break out by those papers I showed 
 
 you.' 
 
 ' You will see the flames either in Austria or in 
 Naples before many inoDths pass ; I catch their 
 reflection on the horizon already, Pietrucchio ; and, 
 as you say, this Hungarian mission of yours shows 
 what the democrats expect. Yes, Naples will be 
 the first ; the people there are held tighter every 
 day, while they see other states, what they call, 
 reforming themselves ; our wisdom is to sit still. 
 Good night ; of course I shall come here no 
 more while you are at home ; you know how to 
 send me any intelligence ; be cautious, and keep 
 up a friendship with Nota. That young man has 
 talent, you should buy him over.' 
 
 ' It cannot be done,' said Clementi.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 235 
 
 1 So you have said before, -which amounts to 
 this, that you do not know his price. Every man 
 has one ; let me tell you there are not six men of 
 my acquaintance, who, if they had to choose 
 between a serious inconvenience and a crime, 
 would not choose the latter. He ought to be on 
 our side ; it would shake the liberal cause seriously. 
 There are very few half as formidable as he, for 
 the most part all this outcry is mere noise.' 
 
 ' They complain out of mere want of something 
 else to do,' said the count, with undetected irony ; 
 for Monsignore Clementi was entirely and truly 
 incapable of perceiving that the laity had even a 
 particle of justice on their side. 
 
 ' They do. They set themselves up as wiser 
 than those who have inherited the sacred power 
 of our ancestors. But enough of this ; good night.' 
 
 1 A happy night, my dear uncle.' 
 
 Monsignore Clementi descended the stairs ru- 
 minatiDg over the intelligence which his nephew 
 had brought him, and making a mental abstract of 
 it to be communicated to certain of his colleagues; 
 the count smiled to himself as he thought that 
 even his uncle did not perceive the whole of the 
 plot, and Gemma was alone in her room, on her 
 knees before a crucifix, while drowned in tears, 
 she allowed broken words to escape her lips — ' I 
 dare not — I dare not tell him — but sooner or later 
 he will know — will find all out — and never pardon 
 me — oh, how will it end !'
 
 236 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 Quanti cei n'e che mi senton cantare, 
 Diran : buon per colei c'ha il cor contento ! 
 
 S'io canto, canto per non dir del male; 
 Faccio per iscialar quel c'ho qua dentro : 
 Faccio per iscialar mi afflitta doglia ; 
 Sebbene io canto, di piangere bo voglia : 
 Faccio per iscialar l'afflitta pena, 
 Sebbene io canto, di dolor son piena. 
 
 ElSPETTO. 
 
 THE bell of the parish church near Palazzo 
 Clementi tolled slowly, summoning the de- 
 vout to gain indulgences by attending the Viati- 
 cum to a dying person ; and presently a boy in a 
 white surcoat came forth on the steps and rang 
 a smaller bell, till a little crowd of various ranks 
 had collected, from whom the priest chose the 
 most respectable, rejecting a charcoal-burner, 
 blackened from head to foot, and furnished them 
 with lighted waxen tapers, two of which were 
 raised on poles and guarded by glass lanterns, 
 lest a sudden gust should extinguish all at once ; 
 for without light the Host or Santissima, as the 
 Romans say, cannot be carried. The procession 
 began to move slowly from the church, headed 
 by two boys, one still riuging his bell, the other 
 bearing a sort of miniature wooden altar. Those 
 who had volunteered to carry the tapers followed 
 in pairs, guided by one who walked nearly in the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 237 
 
 centre and assumed the direction of them. Last 
 came the priest, carrying the Host in a star-like 
 shrine, and the sacristan holding the canopy above 
 it ; a crowd followed behind, some of whom ac- 
 companied it all the way to its destination, others 
 only a few yards ; all hats were taken off, and 
 the people knelt as it passed. Where a carriage 
 was standing still, the driver dismounted from his 
 coach-box and joined the worshippers. All move- 
 ment and traffic were suspended for an instant, 
 as men were called on to acknowledge the Holy 
 Presence ; and, hushing the light words of the 
 idle and the serious ones of the busy, rose up 
 the chanted Psalm, the solemn Prayer. Though 
 the hour was still early, the short winter day had 
 ended, but the obscurity was lighted by the lamps 
 that shone from every window, as the peculiar 
 well-known sound of the little bell gave notice 
 that the Viaticum was passing, and all hastened 
 to pay this customary mark of respect. The 
 procession paused under the archway of Palazzo 
 Clementi, the priest and a few of the attendants 
 bore the Host upstairs, the rest waited below, 
 praying for the departing spirit of one, of whom 
 they knew no more than that the soul was about 
 to stand before its Judge. 
 
 That day had the doctor, after his visit to old 
 Xanna, spoken the ominous words, ' Make her see 
 her confessor,' and he being summoned had heard 
 her last shrift. She had bequeathed such property 
 as she possessed to Irene, and the parish priest 
 was about to administer the Communion to his 
 dying parishioner. The table, covered with a linen 
 cloth, was prepared opposite to the bed to re- 
 ceive the Holy Elements ; the old woman awaited
 
 238 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 him, calm in the belief that all her sins were re- 
 mitted ; Irene was with her, but when the Host 
 was brought, left the room — she was a Pro- 
 testant, and could not be admitted at the Com- 
 munion of the Roman Catholic Church. 
 
 About an hour after she sought Yincenzo, look- 
 ing much cheered, and saying, ' The doctor has 
 been here again, and says Nanna is wonderfully 
 better ; he thinks she will rally. Oh, what a day 
 it has been! what dismay we were all in this 
 morning ! Mrs. Dalzell was the only one not 
 frightened out of her wits ; she says English peo- 
 ple are much less afraid of illness than we are, but 
 then they have not such sudden, violent attacks. 
 They do not leave a house when some one is dead; 
 even women go to the funeral.' 
 
 ' It seems to be conducted very differently from 
 one here,' said Yincenzo. ' I remember when our 
 father died, how comforting I thought the service 
 that was read. There is little comfort in the way 
 the dead are treated here.' 
 
 ■ No,' said Irene, with a shudder ; ' no respect, 
 no decency — no one who cares present. Oh, one 
 could not bear to see the body of any one that we 
 had loved carried with a dozen others to that pit 
 where they are all heaped together. Don't speak 
 of it.' 
 
 ' You look fagged, dear child,' said Yincenzo. 
 ' Come here.' 
 
 ' I cannot, I ought to have practised my songs 
 long ago,' said Irene, who had to sing at a private 
 party that evening. ' I had not the heart to do 
 so before. I think there is something in me still, 
 though,' she added, warbling a brilliant variation. 
 ' Madame Marriotti is going, and will take me ;
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 239 
 
 I had a note from her just now. Shall I disturb 
 you, dear ?' 
 
 Assured to the contrary, she opened the piano 
 and sang some modern Italian songs — music so 
 seductive and voluptuous that it seemed to steal 
 into the heart and witch the senses as though an 
 Armida sang them in her enchanted gardens to 
 a Einaldo. Looking up as she ended, Irene per- 
 ceived that her brother was leaning back in his 
 chair, doing nothing but listen. 
 
 1 Am I preventing your reading ?' 
 
 1 How can I read grave books when you sing 
 that wicked magic music, you naughty syren ?' 
 
 ' All passion, as German music is all spirit. I 
 am not sure that I really like it. I should think 
 better of modern Eoine, if they admired Eossini 
 less and Cimarosa more.' 
 
 ' Madame Marriotti's true pupil! I remember 
 the day when you raved about Eossini.' 
 
 ' And, of course, I think his music excessively 
 pretty — exquisite ; but I had rather sing a severer 
 kind. But tell me if you like this,' said Irene, 
 striking the first chords of a kind of march, to 
 which words equally spirited were set, and looking 
 as she sang like a young priestess. Vincenzo had 
 not heard it before, but instantly recognised the 
 author of the words, and said, ' Leone's, to be sure; 
 "methinks we do know the sweet Eoman hand;"' 
 a quotation which, with its compliment to Italian 
 writing, he had been delighted with ever since he 
 and Irene began to study Shakspeare together. 
 
 ' I certainly am not in good voice to-night,' said 
 Irene, anxiously, running over an exercise. ' I 
 must steal some of Madam a Cecchi's pasta di 
 cottonia [quince jam] vhich she says is so good
 
 240 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 for singers.' As she rose from the piano the maid 
 entered, and asked whether she knew how late it 
 was. ' No ! I must dress this very moment — do 
 you know how Signora Dalzell's headache is ? Oh, 
 don't go to see — I will, presently — ' but the girl 
 was already knocking at Mrs. Dalzell's door, and 
 receiving no reply, put her head in, exclaiming in 
 a voice like that of a sea-gull, 
 
 ' Dorme ? she sleeps ?' Luckily Mrs. Dalzell, 
 though lying on her bed, was not asleep but reading, 
 and Carmela perceiving a book still in her hand, 
 was anxious to know what it was. Mrs. Dalzell 
 showed her the title, knowing she was proud of 
 being able to read, and Carmela, for the first time 
 in her life, touched a Bible. Mrs. Dalzell was not 
 quite aware that she put herself into a somewhat 
 perilous position by encouraging an Italian to 
 read an Italian translation which was not from 
 the Vulgate. Carmela might have read that if 
 she liked, though few priests would have given 
 her much encouragement to do so. 
 
 ' La Bibhia Santa,'' she read aloud with great 
 emphasis, but in evident uncertainty as to what it 
 was. She leant on the foot of the bed with the 
 plain purpose of having a little talk, and inquired 
 if the book were not a history of the creation of 
 the world and the generations of the Hebrew kings, 
 and next whether confession were practised in 
 England. 
 
 ' It is permitted, not obligatory,' replied Mrs. 
 Dalzell. 
 
 ' So much the better,' said Carmela, twirling the 
 spazzola or feather broom which she had brought 
 in with her ; ' the priests are rogues.' 
 
 ' What !' exclaimed Mrs. Dalzell.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 241 
 
 1 They are rogues,' repeated the girl, with an 
 expressive gesture ; ' they eat up everything ; for 
 their sakes we are taxed ; wine is dear, salt is dear, 
 all to make the priests rich. If a man would have 
 his son make a living nowadays, he must make 
 him a priest. In my country, and here too, you 
 see more priests than laymen. All is for them.' 
 
 1 Take care, Carmela ; you will get into trouble 
 if you talk so.' 
 
 1 Pouf ! I only say what every one knows. The 
 Capucini are not so bad ; they have wide sleeves, 
 they are more secular, and know that we who live 
 in the world cannot behave like monks ; they give 
 us absolution easily, but the Jesuits — eugh ! Does 
 the signora know my country ?' 
 
 ' I thought you were Roman, you speak very 
 like one.' 
 
 ' No, no, I come from Umbria — Perugia is my 
 town ; it is a beautiful place, with a cathedral, and 
 cardinals, and schools, much cheaper than this ; 
 the fields are all flowers and the trees all grapes,' 
 replied Carmela, waving her hands in the air. 
 ' Does the signora know that I am married ?' 
 
 1 Married V repeated Mrs. Dalzell, astonished 
 that this ugly little elf should have a husband. 
 ' How come you to be in service, then ?' 
 
 ' I had been only married six weeks when my 
 husband was sent to prison, and then I sought a 
 service,' said the girl, quite proud of having such a 
 distinguished husband. 
 
 1 "Why was he sent to prison ?' 
 
 1 He owed money, and the creditor wanted it 
 back ; my husband told him candidly he would 
 murder him unless he was quiet ; and as he still 
 insisted, he stabbed him, so he was sent to Spoleto. 
 
 YOL. I. b
 
 242 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 I can see him, but it takes much money. Ah ! — 
 here I am, running as if the police were after me,' 
 cried Carmela, elevating her yoice to its highest 
 pitch, in answer to a distant call, and she rushed 
 out of the room, slamming the door behind her 
 and shouting a most inharmonious song. 
 
 Madama Cecchi received her with a scolding for 
 always dawdling, which charge Carmela received first 
 with a declaration that the English signora had de- 
 tained her, and then that she had not been absent a 
 moment. The war of words was terrific, but soon 
 subsided, and Madama Cecchi, followed by the other 
 maid, Menica, went to see how Irene's dressing 
 was prospering. She was attired, all but her scarf, 
 which the padrona put on for her, bidding her 
 wear it coquettishly, now showing the slender 
 waist, then lettiug it slip so as to display the 
 bracelet and white arm, while Menica occasionally 
 put in her oar, standing at Irene's glass smoothing 
 her own thick hair. Irene listened laughing, and 
 advanced into the sitting-room to show herself to 
 Yincenzo, still pursued by last words from the 
 padrona, who manoeuvred a scarf as dextrously as a 
 Spanish lady did herfan; but Nino was heard coming 
 in and demanding his wife, and with an exclamation 
 of ' "What a worry !' away she went. Yincenzo 
 had arranged Irene's music for her, and she was 
 sitting by him, waiting for a summons to go, when 
 Leone came in, with so completely the look of one 
 who had bracedhimself against a sudden misfortune, 
 that both Yincenzo and Irene exclaimed together, 
 1 Dear Leone ! what has happened ?' 
 
 1 1 have just heard that Farini is really pro- 
 moted,' said Leone, with a voice that trembled 
 with indignation and grief, as he threw himself
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 243 
 
 into a chair ; ' and another man is put over my 
 head ! So much for interest ! A base, pitiful 
 wretch who is well known as a Sanfedist spy ! 
 one of Monsignore dementi's dmes damnees, unless 
 he be marvellously belied. Put over the heads of 
 men who have worked hard for years ! Is it not 
 a charming specimen of how men prosper with a 
 monsignore for their friend ?' 
 
 Vincenzo was mute with dismay, and Irene's 
 face, as she came and stood beside iNTota, told what 
 a blow this was. 
 
 1 1 heard it an hour ago,' continued Leone, ' and 
 I have been walking up and down the corridor 
 making up my mind to come in and tell you. 
 Thrown back for years ! Not even the consolation, 
 that I have worked for this injustice !' 
 
 1 Yes, you have, Leone ; for you may be sure it 
 is because old scores are remembered against you. 
 Irene, you should remind him of the day when 
 you wished he had everything to lose, that all 
 might see how exactly the same course he would 
 pursue.' 
 
 1 But I want comfort too much myself to give 
 any away,' said Irene, and Leone looked up at 
 her, smiled and said, ' Come, if Fortune escape 
 us in this way, we must catch her in another, the 
 Sanfedists have not beaten us yet.' 
 
 1 There ! he is comforted, now that he has made 
 you as unhappy as himself, Irene !' 
 
 1 You don't imagine, for an instant, that I wish 
 the past undone — or regret not having tried to 
 propitiate the ruling powers ? But hard I must 
 feel it when hope is dashed away in this manner. 
 It is up-hill work at the best, and if I have another 
 chance of rising, the same thing may happen again* 
 
 B 2
 
 244 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 It was too true, and there was a sorrowful 
 pause, till he added, ' I am not myself to-night — 
 I had bad news this afternoon, and was forced to 
 make a sad household sadder. Poor Donati ! — I 
 learnt his fate at last. He was condemned to 
 fourteen years' imprisonment, and his courage 
 gave way — he poisoned himself!' 
 
 ' Oh, Leone ! And you had to tell his poor 
 wife and mother !' 
 
 ' Signorina, signorina, the carriage ! and the 
 signora begs you will come directly ; she will be 
 like a ferocious beast with anger, unless you do,' 
 cried Carmela, bursting in and giving, to say the 
 least, full effect to a message from Madame Mar- 
 riotti, that she was ready. The recollection of 
 her evening's work startled Irene ; the contrast 
 was ghastly between it and the double tidings 
 she had just heard. 
 
 ' Dear Leone, I must go — it is hard to-night,' 
 said Irene, for the first time feeling that her pro- 
 fession had chains, as well as rose wreaths. 
 ' Good night, Yincenzo. Leone, you will find 
 time to come early to-morrow ? — please !' 
 
 ' Perhaps I may be still here when you come 
 home,' said he, wrapping her mantle carefully 
 round her, ' Sing well, and don't catch cold.' 
 
 'Your music!' said Yincenzo, as he saw her 
 going without it. She came hastily back and 
 stooped to kiss him, as she took it. He felt a 
 tear on her cheek. Madama Cecchi came to hurry 
 her away, and she knew that she must not linger 
 a moment longer ; but she looked back wistfully 
 as she shut the door, and the mutual glance ex- 
 changed between her and Leone was the comfort 
 of both for the rest of the evening. She was to
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 245 
 
 sing at an English party, which seemed a London 
 scene transported to Borne ; there were the lighted 
 rooms, the refreshments, the toilettes, that might 
 have been seen in May Fair ; English was spoken 
 on all sides. Irene knew no one, and sat un- 
 noticed, with full time for sad thought, before her 
 turn came to sing. Madame Marriotti, absorbed 
 in her own thoughts as usual, had not noticed her 
 mournful expression, and woke to a consciousness 
 that something had happened to trouble the young 
 cantatrice, only when the unsteadiness of her first 
 notes startled every one with the probability that 
 she would break down. She recovered herself 
 speedily, and ended amid great applause ; Madame 
 Marriotti asked, quite indignantly, what she had 
 given her such a fright for ? — was Vineenzo ill ? — 
 what had happened ? 
 
 1 Only a hope gone for the present ; I will tell 
 you as we go home,' said Irene, who had to at- 
 tend the next moment to compliments from a 
 celebrated tenor, who had appeared that season 
 at one of the theatres. Madame Marriotti was 
 much pleased, knowing that the great man would 
 not have taken the trouble to be polite to the 
 young prima donna, unless he had thought it 
 worth his while ; but muttered, as soon as he had 
 moved away, ' She sings twice as well as he — I 
 have no patience with the man, an affected fellow ! 
 he seems to think it a condescension to sing to us. 
 I must say the child puts her heart into it.' 
 
 1 Xature intended him to act a lover on the 
 stage,' said Irene, ' he is so pretty !' 
 
 1 Hark ! there is Hase going to play — now we 
 shall have something worth listening to,' said 
 Madame Marriotti, and Irene was allowed to
 
 246 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 return to her thoughts till she was wanted to sing 
 again a playful song, one which Yincenzo was 
 particularly fond of. She had never sung it better, 
 yet the room she had just left at Palazzo Clementi 
 rose up all the while before her mental eyes, and 
 it seemed to her that there were two Irenes, one 
 performing a part in a brilliant assembly, giving 
 an arch and coquettish song its fullest expression 
 of mirth and malice, and the other sitting by 
 Leone's side, sharing his disappointment, and 
 weaving plans for the future. Applause fell on 
 an unheeding ear ; compliments were distaste- 
 ful, and every moment an hour, as she sat 
 longing to be gone, and thinking how soon hap- 
 piness had spread her butterfly wings and fluttered 
 away ; all the grand and elevated views of a 
 musician's destiny, which she had imbibed from 
 Madame Marriotti, faded lamentably into the back- 
 ground this evening ; but, as neither headaches 
 nor heartaches can be openly avowed in society, 
 Irene had to smile, and be courteous, and sing, 
 when asked to do so. 
 
 Had she possessed clairvoyance, she would have 
 discovered that there was some one besides 
 Yincenzo and Leone in the sitting-room at the 
 palace, namely Count Clementi, who was immedi- 
 ately made acquainted with what had happened, 
 and manifested vehement indignation. 
 
 ' So are served our best men ! After all that 
 has been said and done, where are our reforms ? 
 Are we any better off than we were two years 
 ago ? Are the finances better managed, the law 
 courts improved, commerce encouraged, or have 
 the clergy given up a single privilege ? We are 
 treated like babies, amused with processions and
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 247 
 
 shows, and Heaven knows what ; but tell me of 
 what single substantial improvement can we boast ? 
 We cannot move a step, but we feel the chains on 
 hand and foot to remind us we are slaves.' 
 
 ' We have no railroads here, count ; and, if we 
 had, reforms don't go by express train ; and, 
 though it is true we take ample time about them, 
 the amnesty was enormous gain, and so is the 
 steady progress of the Bianchi opinions,' said 
 Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Yes,' cried Leone, blazing up instantly at a 
 subject which no liberal could calmly name ; ' at 
 least we are no longer mowed down at our enemies' 
 pleasure ; our citizens are not struck, robbed, 
 abused, assassinated, misused in every conceivable 
 manner. Some years back every road was closed — 
 ay, and kept with a flaming sword — against a man 
 so much as suspected of being a liberal ; it was as 
 if you were flung into the Tiber with a stone 
 round your neck. "Why, confiscation and death 
 were things of daily occurrence; an anonymous 
 charge was enough to bring a man to the scaflbld.' 
 
 1 And how many hundreds were exiled or impri- 
 soned! And you suppose that the priests will calmly 
 abdicate their power ? that your slow-paced reforms 
 will be allowed to go on ? Oh, blind men, who 
 will not see that a republic is the only hope of 
 !Rome !' said Clementi. 
 
 1 No. No man can wish for that here ; the bare 
 idea would set Rome on fire,' said Yincenzo. 
 ■ The people are not strong enough for it ; it would 
 be putting a match to a mine of gunpowder. There 
 is true strength in patience, count.' 
 
 1 You would sow poppies, and expect them to 
 last as long as ilexes,' said Leone.
 
 248 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 
 
 1 Everything would be well if the Ministers were 
 honest/ said Vincenzo; ' if they would really follow 
 out the Pope's schemes ; but I don't see what is 
 to come of the Pope's giving commands, and the 
 people refusing to believe they emanate from him.' 
 
 ' Don't you ?' said Clementi, drily. 
 
 1 Government had better beware ! ' exclaimed 
 Leone. ' If the Neri force us into a reckoning, they 
 need not be surprised if we cast up the accounts 
 our own way. Let them play us false, and the 
 Tiber will run blood from St. Angelo to Ripa 
 Grande. I don't say so on account of what has 
 just happened to me, though far worse may happen 
 any day with no redress — but it is not I, Leone, 
 who am unjustly used, that is a trifle — it is JNota, 
 the liberal, who is to be kept down ! ' 
 
 Clementi struck his forehead as if a thought 
 had suddenly stung him. ' iSTota ! I am the cause 
 of it all ! you owe it all to me ; doubtless it is my 
 uncle's doing ; you are my friend, and as such his 
 enemy. I little thought what our friendship 
 would cost you ! ' 
 
 ' Of course I knew whose man it was that has 
 stepped in,' answered Leone ; ' but as for the rest 
 — nonsense, ' count ! true or not, what does that 
 matter ? You have lost more by taking our side 
 than any man among us. Come, friend, you are 
 not thinking of this ? Do you suppose I cannot 
 make my way in spite of fortune and her allies 
 the Papiste ?' 
 
 He made a slight, graceful gesture, as if defying 
 them one and all, and held out his hand to Cle- 
 menti, who looked thoroughly depressed by the 
 conviction that it was through him that Nota had 
 suffered. Vincenzo eagerly sought to convince
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 249 
 
 him of the contrary, and Leone would not listen 
 to a word on the subject ; little guessing that, 
 while he warmly assured him of his continual 
 friendship, Clementi was secretly smiling in dis- 
 dain, and almost scorned to plot against a man so 
 easily deceived. They were interrupted by Cecchi, 
 who asked in haste whether Irene had returned ; 
 Nanna seemed suddenly much worse, and extreme 
 unction was about to be administered. It had 
 been delayed hitherto on account of her apparent 
 rallying in the afternoon. 
 
 Irene had not come. The day which had begun 
 in sorrow ended in the same manner ; this time 
 the old woman showed no signs of recovery ; the 
 priest returned, touched her limbs with the holy 
 oil ; spoke the last prayers for the dying over her 
 while she lay unhearing, unconscious, and before 
 Irene came home, the old nurse was dead. 
 
 Xanna had been the orphans' friend from their 
 birth, and they missed her much ; they had loved 
 her more than they knew. Their surprise was 
 great when they found she had thought it worth 
 while to make a will ; for they had no idea she 
 possessed a bajocco ; but Irene inherited the con- 
 tents of an earthenware pot, which Nanna had 
 kept concealed by day and put under her pillow 
 by night; and there was a considerable sum left 
 even when the usual heavy funeral expenses were 
 paid. A heap of coins, varying from half a bajocco 
 to a gold piece, was found in it — how acquired no 
 one knew. Clementi could have accounted for 
 some of them, though in truth Nanna was richer 
 than he ; others had been given by people who 
 commissioned her in days when she accompanied 
 her young mistress to the theatre, to carry notes
 
 250 MADEMOISELLE* MORI. 
 
 and messages; but Nanna knew Irene too well to do 
 anything of the kind ; she accepted every embassy, 
 pocketed her reward, and said nothing about 
 either. Clementi had first propitiated her, and 
 to him she remained faithful, giving information 
 to him or to Gemma of everything in Madama 
 Cecchi's household which it concerned them to 
 know ; and, if she ever revealed her treachery, it 
 was under the seal of the confessional, and Irene 
 never knew of it ; but probably Nanna did not see 
 anything wrong in what she did, and would not 
 have classed it amongst sins to be confessed. 
 
 In the unscrupulous old nurse Clementi lost a 
 useful and unscrupulous ally, but he had made his 
 footing sure with the brother and sister, and could 
 do without her. "When Irene had been made ac- 
 quainted with his fear that he had brought ill-will 
 upon Leone, she showed him an increase of friend- 
 liness, to console him for his supposed share in 
 causing a disappointment which so nearly con- 
 cerned herself. He was now far from being the 
 only noble who had joined the popular side — 
 two or three of the highest rank had long counte- 
 nanced it ; and many more gave it their adhesion 
 on finding that the Court faction was growing 
 less and less prosperous ; but still the horizon 
 darkened, and the agitation among the people 
 grew more and more threatening. 
 
 The commencement of Pio Nono's reign resem- 
 bled those brilliant southern days when heaven 
 and earth seem enchanted into halcyon beauty, 
 but which only precede the shock of the earth- 
 quake and the flow of the lava. The moderate 
 liberals found their number daily diminished by 
 desertions to the ultra party ; wise men trembled,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 251 
 
 and the populace resisted, like an unbroken horse, 
 when the least curb was put on their clamorous 
 demands. Strong hands and heads were needed 
 to rule them, and these were not numerous in the 
 Pope's Cabinet. 
 
 The Ministers temporized, the Austrians threat- 
 ened, and took the outrageous step of occupying 
 Ferrara. A proclamation forbidding processions 
 and demostrazioni in piazza, was issued at Eome ; 
 and produced violent discontent, for it touched the 
 populace in a point as dear to them as the games 
 of the circus had been to their ancestors. The 
 people hated the Government more heartily for 
 this trifle than for all the past grievances ; for, 
 after all, what the masses wanted was strong 
 excitement. They had all something of the tiger 
 nature, ready to break out savagely at any time ; 
 revolution would have pleased them better than 
 reform ; they were neither liberal nor Papal ; and 
 followed any leader who could win their favour. 
 
 The anniversary of the amnesty was marked by 
 ominous tumults ; there sprang up an extraordi- 
 nary suspicion that a plot against the personal 
 freedom of the Pope was brewing among the San- 
 fedists. Instead of a festal procession, howls for 
 vengeance echoed through the streets ; unknown 
 hands put up a list of the supposed conspirators 
 on the walls. They were well-known names ; 
 the military tore down the paper, a riot ensued, 
 resulting in a popular triumph ; when instead 
 of severe measures of repression, the Secretary of 
 State publicly praised the people for their modera- 
 tion, and a notification was published by authority, 
 that the authors of the supposed plot should be 
 punished. Those suspected had already fled for
 
 252 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 their lives from the mob, who hunted them like wild 
 beasts, and broke open their houses. Sad omens 
 for the future did that June of 1847 bring ; but 
 better hopes might be gathered from the cry of 
 indignation that rang throughout Italy against the 
 Austrian invaders. The occupation of Ferrara 
 had lighted up a flame which had blazed up far too 
 fiercely to be extinguished, even when, tardily and 
 grudgingly, the Court of Austria listened to the 
 Papal remonstrances, and withdrew from that city. 
 With one accord the Romans offered arms, men, 
 and money to the Pope ; and, as if the love of 
 their country had awakened at last in hearts 
 hitherto devoted to self alone, the Gregoriani, the 
 priests, and religious orders were foremost in the 
 work. The very children met and practised military 
 manceuvres ; the peaceful, gentle Pio Nono found 
 himself turned into a generalissimo just at the 
 time when one of his chief counsellors had left him 
 to go as ambassador to the Court of Sardinia, and 
 death had deprived him of another. 
 
 But all these things were in the future, when 
 ISota and his friends held the foregoing conversa- 
 tion in Palazzo Clementi.
 
 253 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 Stranger, within these grounds, whoe'er thou art, 
 No limitation of thy freedom fear ; 
 Go where thou wilt, and when thou wilt, depart ; 
 Since for thy pleasure all is ordered here. 
 
 As all was golden in the age of gold, 
 Man trusted man, and laws were yet unknown ; 
 Bound by no sterner code our friends we hold, 
 Than honour's law lays down for every one. 
 
 But who, with ill-design prepense, shall dare 
 The golden rules of courtesy to break, 
 Our villa's guardian bids that wight beware, 
 Lest those of friendship's grace he forfeit make. 
 
 Latin Inscription in the Villa Borg,^^. 
 
 ' TTTHAT are you going to do with yourself 
 
 YV to-day ?' asked Count Clementi of his 
 sister, who came into the room where he was turn- 
 ing over a French novel. She carried a bundle 
 of pieces of black silk, which she threw down on 
 the table, and began fitting together. 
 
 ' I am busy,' she replied. ' I am going to Irene 
 Mori presently — does that please you ?' 
 
 ' What is all that rubbish ?' asked Clementi, 
 taking no notice of the last part of her speech. 
 
 < Black silk.' 
 
 1 1 see that. Some valuable present from our 
 aunt ?' 
 
 Gemma shrugged her shoulders. 'To make a
 
 254 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 hood if there be enough — I must have it ready for 
 to-night.' 
 
 1 Going to Casa Olivetti ? You were out this 
 morning.' 
 
 ' At mass, of course ; it is St. Joseph's day, as 
 you might know.' 
 
 ' By the bye ! So I have committed mortal sin 
 by not being up in time to go. And you brought 
 home some good resolutions, I presume, for I think 
 it was only yesterday that you protested you would 
 never go out of the house again, unless you had a 
 new dress.' 
 
 Gemma did not say what had changed her 
 resolution ; she merely asked, ' Any message to 
 Yincenzo ?' 
 
 1 It is of no use for you to go now ; Irene is 
 gone out.' 
 
 'You have been up long enough to discover that.' 
 
 ' Eavelli looked in and mentioned it.' 
 
 Gemma found she got the worst of this cut-and- 
 thrust dialogue, and spoke no more till the contessa 
 came in, and settled herself in the arm-chair which 
 dementi placed for her in a sunny position. 
 "Whatever were his faults, he was a most attentive 
 son ; and it was with reason that she complained of 
 the difference between Gemma's conduct and his. 
 
 ' What are you about, Gemma ?' she asked, in 
 the querulous tones which always exasperated her 
 daughter, as if they contained a reproach. 
 
 ' Making a hood.' 
 
 ' So, after all, you are going with your aunt to- 
 night ; I am sure I don't know what you are to 
 wear ; that last dress is not paid for, and you had 
 it a year ago.' 
 
 1 There is no large party,' said Gemma.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 255 
 
 I No, so I suppose ; but I can't have you going 
 not fit to be seen ; bring me your dress, and let 
 me look at it.' 
 
 I I have not time now,' said Gemma, and she 
 left the room, and applied herself to the ironing of 
 sundry collars and sleeves adorned with her own 
 beautiful embroidery, the only ornamental kind of 
 dress which the young countess could afford. Her 
 mother never went into society, and was too poor 
 to give entertainments ; their visitors were only 
 Gemma's two uncles (one of whom had married a 
 wife with a good dowry, and lived in the rooms 
 above the contessa's) and the Olivetti, very old 
 acquaintances, who occasionally passed an evening 
 with the contessa. Gemma's monotonous life was 
 a little varied by going out with her aunt, but the 
 pleasure was sadly diminished by the age of her 
 dresses, especially when she compared them with 
 Imelda's expensive toilettes ; and she had seriously 
 declared, only the evening before, that she would 
 go nowhere till she had a new gown, a thing which 
 the family finances could by no means compass, 
 as the richer uncle and aunt were deaf to her hints, 
 and a stormy scene ensued, tears on her part, cool 
 contempt on Clementi's, and lamentations on her 
 mother's. 
 
 Early in the morning she might have been 
 seen watering the two great orange-trees which 
 stood in their tubs on either side of the door 
 leadingfrom Contessa Clementi's apartment into the 
 corridor ; the hollow trunk of one had often served 
 as a post-office, and once more she found there a 
 note from Eavelli, which told her that he should be 
 at Casa Olivetti that evening. All else became un- 
 important ; Gemma went gaily with her aunt to
 
 256 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 mass, and afterwards received from her sundry pieces 
 of old silk to do what she likedwith. She was happy 
 again, she had a scheme to occupy her mind — better 
 off so far than her brother, who had nothing parti- 
 cular on hand; the day would be too long, though as 
 usual he had risen late. 
 
 He sauntered into the Corso with a cigar ; met 
 there a new acquaintance, a cousin of the Olivetti, 
 who proposed a drive to celebrate the festa which 
 enforced idleness on everyone; encountered Ravelli, 
 and invited him to join them, as they stepped into one 
 of the carriages waiting on the stand. All three drove 
 towards the Borghese Gardens, already thronged 
 with pleasure seekers, who found shade in its ilex 
 avenues, and sunshine on the open lawns, where 
 children scrambled about, nurses carried white- 
 robed babies, men smoked their cigars, loitered 
 about, or sat on the stone benches; ladies walked up 
 and down the grassy terraces, carriages stood empty 
 waiting for their owners, or drove along the road 
 to and from the villa — the band playing on the 
 Pincio was distinctly heard, and the delicious day 
 invited irresistibly to idleness — a day when spring 
 and summer seemed married together, and the 
 fruit trees strewed the bridal path with their 
 snowy blossoms. 
 
 Meanwhile Gemma, as soon as Irene came in, 
 sought her and found her reading the Italia of 
 Leopardi to Yincenzo, who was copying the music 
 of a part she was soon to rehearse. They did not 
 look as if they wanted any one else, but Gemma 
 sat down and began to talk of anything that came 
 into her head. Irene put away her book, and sat 
 idle near the open window where the warm soft 
 air came breathing in ; Vincenzo looked at her
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 257 
 
 with a smile and said, ' It is an unusual thing to 
 see you idle, Irene.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I am giving myself a treat ; I have been 
 practising all the morning. I shall have to be very 
 busy when the theatres re-open after Lent.' 
 
 ' You never work,' said Gemma. 
 
 1 I detest needlework ; I like being very busy 
 or very idle ; and needlework is neither business 
 nor idleness. Mrs. Dalzell is always doing some, 
 but it is not my nature.' 
 
 • Maddalena does all your work for you,' said 
 Gemma. YEaddalena was Irene's servant. 
 
 ' Yes ; but I assure you I don't trust the plan- 
 ning of my costumes to her, she only executes my 
 designs ; you don't know how much dress has to 
 do with success on the stage,' said Irene. 
 
 ' AYhat a dragon ALaddalena looks !' said Gemma. 
 
 ' That was one of her recommendations in Ma- 
 dama Cecchi's eyes,' said Yincenzo, ' when she 
 urged us to have her for Irene's maid ; she said 
 to me, "E brutta, brutta; cosi nonfara VamoreV ' 
 
 ' She is one of my chief admirers,' said Irene ; 
 1 when I am practising she stands outside the door 
 to listen, and wont let any one come in to inter- 
 rupt me !' 
 
 ' Irene, could you lend me some silk to work 
 with ? I have forgotten mine.' 
 
 ' Here, take what you want. Your hood is 
 nearly made !' 
 
 ' If I had only something to line it with !' 
 
 ' You want something rose-coloured.' 
 
 Gemma made a face, which expressed that she 
 had none, and was very unlikely ever to have any. 
 1 I may as well let it alone ; I cannot wear it 
 without a lining.' 
 
 YOL. I. S
 
 258 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' I dare say I have some,' said Irene, searching 
 in a drawer. ' Here.' 
 
 Gemma thanked her, and made such good use 
 of the pieces offered to her, that the little hood 
 soon became the prettiest head-dress imaginable. 
 
 ' Oh, Irene, did you see the Marchesa Viola's 
 wreath the last time we were at the Yalle ? Any- 
 thing so ridiculous ! and she was dressed in full 
 gala costume. Every one was talking about it - } 
 and there was the Cavaliere Monteverdi with her 
 again !' 
 
 ' People talk of nothing but what such and such 
 a one has worn,' said Irene; 'I sometimes wonder 
 if all society be as satirical and gossiping and false 
 as ours !' 
 
 ' What would you have us talk of ?' 
 
 ' Wiry — I don't know — but surely in some places 
 there must be a little talk about books, or art, or 
 science, not merely whom one has seen, or what 
 has happened lately, or what our friends wear, 
 and whether their clothes came from Paris or 
 not!' 
 
 ' I never heard of any place where people talked 
 of books instead of persons — it would be very dull. 
 Kow I have finished, all but the strings. Have 
 you anything that would make strings, you dear, 
 good Irene ?' 
 
 ' I don't know — come and look.' 
 
 Gemma sighed as she turned over the pieces 
 of silk, the ribbons, the fragments, which careless 
 Irene had heaped together and forgotten — there 
 was so much that Gemma would gladly have 
 appropriated. Strings at least she could secure, 
 and when they were attached, the hood was ready 
 for wear. While she was putting it on to display
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 259 
 
 it, Mrs. Dalzell came in and proposed to Vincenzo 
 a drive in the Borghese Gardens. He gladly ac- 
 cepted, declaring he conld ' cratch ' himself down- 
 stairs unaided ; Gemma looked so imploring that 
 the invitation was extended to her, and she ran 
 to fetch her bonnet, troubling herself no further 
 about her mother's consent than to look in and 
 sav, ' Mamma, I am going in carrozza with the 
 English lady.' 
 
 Vincenzo laughingly observed to his sister, ' She 
 got half her hood out of you — I know she came on 
 purpose !' 
 
 ' They must be wretchedly poor,' said Irene, 
 ' or else it would be too mean — not that I grudge 
 her the silk, if she would only ask outright.' 
 
 ' And not imagine that she humbugs you with 
 her sweet names ! She has done the same thing 
 fifty times before ; they are too proud to let de- 
 menti work, or Gemma marry a commoner, but 
 not too proud to get all they can out of other 
 people. They will not work, and are not ashamed 
 to beg. I am not speaking of the count.' 
 
 At this moment Gemma came back, and they. 
 went downstairs, accommodating their pace to 
 Vincenzo' s capabilities. The carriage stood wait- 
 ing, with its handsome pair of horses and liveried 
 servant ; Gemma did not fail to notice the com- 
 pleteness of the equipage, and as she sat opposite 
 to Mrs. Dalzell, her black eyes surveyed the Eng- 
 lishwoman's features and dress with an unflinch- 
 ing, curious scrutiny, as different as possible from 
 the sincere, gladsome look of Irene. They drove 
 out through the Piazza del Popolo, where the sun 
 poured down dazzlingly on the white dusty ground, 
 and illumined the buildings, till architecture that 
 
 a o
 
 260 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 •would have been mean, and streets that would have 
 been gloomy elsewhere, became perfectly beautiful 
 under the wand of that great enchanter the sun, 
 who, like Happiness, calls out all that is lovely and 
 beautifies even that which is not already fair. The 
 obelisk rose up into as blue a sky as ever cano- 
 pied it in its own Heliopolis ; the lions spouted 
 out clear streams of water at each corner of its 
 stone steps with a refreshing sound ; on the sha- 
 dier side beggars lay basking and sleeping — ex- 
 tended, too, at full length on the steps of the 
 church, which the Eoman people raised to purify 
 the site of the unholy sepulchre of JNTero ; boys 
 hopped in all directions in the game of campana, 
 or hop-scotch, without paying the slightest regard 
 to the carriages which drove incessantly through 
 the piazza, and threatened to annihilate them ; 
 bird-voices, rare sounds in Roine, twittered in 
 the belt of cypresses ; every one and everything 
 seemed in a state of enjoyment. 
 
 Everybody eats fritters on St. Joseph's day, 
 and at the corners of the streets, booths were 
 erected, sheltered by arbours of green boughs, and 
 sometimes adorned with broadsides of verses in 
 ; arge print that all the world might see; fritter- 
 eaters crowded around them so fiercely eager that 
 the white-robed cooks were breathless with frying, 
 and handing their wares to the consumers. Beiug 
 a festa, which happened not only to fall in Mid- 
 Lent, but on a Friday, the Romans were doubly 
 delighted to celebrate it, and not a carriage was 
 to be seen on any of the stands — all were engaged 
 by pleasure seekers. 
 
 There had been no rain for weeks, and Mrs. 
 Dalzell and her party found the dust so dis- 
 agreeable that they were very glad to leave the
 
 .MADEMOISELLE MORI. 261 
 
 carnage, and sit down among the ilexes. Irene 
 applied herself to seeking wild flowers, Tineenzo 
 lay on the turf, and Gemma began catechiz- 
 ing the English lady. Her restless spirit pined 
 for change, as a traveller in the desert pines for 
 water ; out of Rome she saw novelty, liberty ; 
 English women appeared to her the most enviable 
 creatures in the world ; she never guessed that 
 they seldom used their liberty in the way that 
 she contemplated. 
 
 1 The signora lives in London ?' she began. 
 
 1 No ; in the country.' 
 
 1 In summer — in villeggiatura T* 
 
 1 All the year round when I am in England.' 
 
 ' In a town in the country, then,' persisted 
 Gemma, unable to understand that country society 
 so peculiarly English, and consisting in great part 
 of the families of a married priesthood. 
 
 1 But you go to London for the carnival ?' 
 
 ' We have none in England.' 
 
 1 Xo carnival !' said Gemma, incredulously ; 
 ' nor theatres ?' 
 
 Her evidently declining estimation of England 
 was raised again, when she heard there were 
 theatres. 
 
 ' And English ladies walk about alone, and marry 
 whom they please, do they not ? I have heard Sig- 
 nora Olivetti say that their parents trust girls in 
 England, as if they were^yZi onaschi' (male sons). 
 
 1 They walk alone in the country, but no young 
 girl goes out by herself in London, and a marriage 
 against a parent's wish is rare. AVe trust girls 
 because they are brought up not to abuse con- 
 fidence.' 
 
 ' Here no one trusts them, and in the convent 
 they never can think for themselves ; and when
 
 202 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 they come out, and have not the nuns always after 
 them, they get into mischief,' said G-emma ; a 
 remark that hit the truth so nearly, that Mrs. 
 Dalzell perceived that the girl had now, at all 
 events, begun to think for herself, and besides had 
 a keen wit. ' They have nothing that they care to 
 do — some are satisfied to make their dresses and 
 knit stockings by their mother's side, and some are 
 so weary of their life that they would die outright, 
 if they did not find something else to think of — 
 pain or pleasure — either is a change ; it makes one's 
 heart beat a little faster. There is at least one 
 minute in the day to look for, to scheme for — that 
 one feels mad to be deprived of — one lives thus !' 
 Her face expressed such stormy passions as could 
 be only known to a hot-blooded native of the 
 south, as she described her own feelings under 
 this thin disguise, little guessing that the Eng- 
 lish lady had the clue to each word. In the 
 old times this girl would have been the heroine 
 of some such terrible tragedy as the annals of 
 almost every Italian family can furnish ; the 
 fiery, lawless nature still existed, the times only 
 were altered ; it was a wild beast, growing sullen 
 and savage in a cage. 
 
 ' See, signora,' said Irene, returning with a 
 handful of delicate white star-like flowers which 
 she had found under the ilexes. ' What are 
 these ?' 
 
 They were unknown both to Mrs. Dalzell and 
 Yincenzo, who had begun to study botany a little, 
 though much hindered by the lack of Italian works 
 on the subject ; and they examined them with an 
 interest incomprehensible to G-emma, who rose and 
 wandered away, enjoying the unwonted freedom. 
 Mrs. Dalzell was so busy discussing the natural
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 263 
 
 system ^vitli Vincenzo, that she did not notice the 
 girl's absence, but Irene exclaiming, ' Where can 
 she have gone ? there will be a scandal if she be 
 seen alone,' hastened to seek her. 
 
 But another eye saw her long before Irene 
 could find her ; Eavelli, as he sauntered with his 
 two companions, caught sight of a well-known 
 dress — the face was turned in another direction, 
 yet it could be no other than Gremma, unlikely 
 as it seemed that she should be wandering bere 
 alone. With some excuse to bis friends he with- 
 drew his arm from dementi's, and crossed into 
 the avenue slowly, so as to meet her when they had 
 passed out of sight. The count, with his lynx eyes, 
 saw her quite as soon as Eavelli, and a frown 
 knit his finely marked, black brows together ; 
 but he saw without choosing to see, and continued 
 his talk with Signor Lelio Olivetti, a cousin of 
 Imelda's, just come to Eome for the express pur- 
 pose of seeing a wife whom Signora Olivetti wrote 
 to tell him she had found for him. A meeting 
 with Eavelli, Gemma had not dared to hope for ; 
 but when she found he had been with her brother, 
 her consternation was so evident, that it again 
 aroused the wonder of her lover. Her firm convic- 
 tion that Clementi would sooner or later play her 
 false made her ready at any moment to betray him ; 
 but the impossibility of explaining away her own 
 long course of deceit again prevailed, and she let 
 herself feel nothing but the joy of these few free 
 moments, troubled very speedily, as it seemed, by 
 the appearance of Irene, who came straight up to 
 Gremma with no more notice of Eavelli than if she 
 had never seen him before, and said briefly, ' AYe 
 are going home.' 
 
 ' Already !'
 
 264 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 1 Already ? we have been here an hour at least. 
 Come.' 
 
 ' Not so much as a look for me, Irene ?' said 
 Ravelli, with mischievous pleasure in her evident 
 indignation. 
 
 ' I shall see you to-night at Casa Olivetti,' 
 answered Irene, with meaning, and Gemma looked 
 at her as if she could have killed her. 
 
 ' Au revoir, hard-hearted one, then, unless you 
 will let me come too,' said Eavelli. 
 
 Irene turned and looked at him with eyes full 
 of indignant reproach. 
 
 ' Luigi !' she exclaimed, ' once for all, I must 
 say it — how can you act so basely ? Do you know 
 that I am sometimes ready to renounce you as a 
 friend ! If you love Gemma, tell the world so, 
 and take the consequences ; but do not risk her 
 fair name and Imelda's happiness any longer.' 
 
 ' As the consequences would be the cloister for 
 Gemma, I can hardly take your advice, Irene.' 
 
 ' Then wait, without such meetings as this.' 
 
 ' "Why ? do you suppose I knew she would be 
 here ?' 
 
 'It is only one of many; is not that true, 
 Luigi V 
 
 'Come,' said Gemma, whose impatience now 
 brimmed over, ' it is you who linger now — come !' 
 She caught Irene's hand to hasten her on ; but 
 Ravelli was stung by her look and words, and 
 said, haughtily, ' One minute, Irene. Gemma is 
 dependent on her uncle ; perhaps you will ask his 
 consent for us ! You need not suppose it is on 
 my own account that I keep our love secret ; you 
 ought to know what persecution would come on 
 her if he heard of it, but the day will come when 
 we shall be independent of Monsignore Clementi.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 265 
 
 If you suppose that we prefer such meetings as 
 these to being openly affianced, you are much 
 mistaken.' 
 
 ' Perhaps Geinma likes them better than you 
 do, Luigi,' said Irene ; and the words struck 
 home, for Gremma did, by nature, love anything 
 that required plotting or scheming. 
 
 " Come !' Gemma exclaimed, flushing scarlet, 
 and hurrying on. Irene had no more to say, 
 and followed her. As they got out of sight of 
 Ravelli, who stood still in an attitude of despon- 
 dency most unusual to him, Gremma whispered, in 
 a tone of such intense hatred that Irene started, 
 1 1 thank you — I shall not forget this, Made- 
 moiselle Mori !' 
 
 Ravelli's feelings were not soothing. Xo man 
 could like a woman to despise him, and he had a 
 deep esteem and admiration for Leone's betrothed 
 bride. He loved Gremma passionately, yet he 
 doubted her, he could not esteem her ; but still, to 
 have a glimpse of her, to exchange a look — a 
 word — was the absorbing thought of each day. 
 He could not have told why. He knew perfectly 
 that Irene was a thousand times superior ; that 
 Imelda would make him a better wife, but he 
 loved Gemma. There was no why or wherefore — 
 it was the fact. He did not greatly fear Count 
 dementi's aristocratic prejudices, but he knew 
 the uncle would end the matter at once should it 
 come to his ears ; and as for his own father, 
 Signor Ravelli, Luigi had been already driven 
 nearly mad with irritation at his obstinate deter- 
 mination, that the long-arranged marriage between 
 his son and Imelda Olivetti should take place. 
 Xothing but his mother's terrified, tearful face, her 
 misery after similar scenes, prevented Luigi from
 
 266 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 making some outrageous reply ; but lie knew him- 
 self, after all, to be as much the idol of his old father 
 as of his mother, and, in every calmer moment, 
 reproached himself for refusing to make them 
 happy. Some time before, he would have married 
 the pretty child they had chosen for him, and been 
 contented ; he had always made a pet of her, and 
 liked her in a brotherly way, which might easily 
 have glided into a husband's affection ; but at 
 Casa Olivetti he met Greinma, he saw her fre- 
 quently with Irene, and feelings awoke which 
 were very dissimilar to his calm liking for Imelda. 
 Now, if he would, he could not marry, for Gem- 
 ma responded to his love with the unbounded 
 ardour of her violent nature ; he had linked his 
 fate to hers, and could not disentangle them. 
 His lips were compressed, his brow darkened, as 
 he stood meditating ; but, speedily, his usual gay, 
 mocking smile returned, he was Luigi Ravel] i 
 again ; a fire-fly, defying fate and enjoying the 
 battle ; something of a weathercock by nature, 
 but withal thoroughly affectionate, generous, and 
 manly ; and the best of the club who met to play 
 at palhne in Palazzo Barbarini on summer even- 
 ings, a distinction which proved that he had not 
 his match in Rome for speed of foot, lightness of 
 step, and quickness of eye. 
 
 He perceived his friends on the main road, 
 and joining them, all sauntered on, till, in a 
 little thicket, where the ground was coloured 
 by purple anemones and blue periwinkles in 
 rich mosaic, they beheld a Decameron-like group 
 — Mrs. Halzell and her companions seated or lying 
 on the turf, luxuriating in the enchanting clay, 
 when every breath inhaled air suffused with sun- 
 shine. They had not yet quite made up their
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 267 
 
 minds to go, and the arrival of the young men 
 gave an excuse for lingering another half-hour. 
 
 Count Clementi introduced his new acquain- 
 tance, and some exchange of compliments and 
 trifling talk ensued. Irene alone sat silent, enjoy- 
 ing the soft, enervating day, but thinking, at the 
 same time, of Imelda. Clementi sat near her, 
 and made an occasional remark, chiming in with 
 her mood, bat keeping, unobserved, an eye on his 
 sister and Ravelli, who had just answered Vin- 
 cenzo's question, why he had not visited them the 
 evening before, that he and Leone had been dis- 
 cussing a scheme, with some others, for a circolo 
 or club. 
 
 Gemma's face clouded. "When she had contrived 
 that night to slip in on purpose to meet him, he 
 had stayed away to flirt with her sworn rival, 
 politics ! She entered at once into conversation 
 with Lelio Olivetti, who began with, ' I have 
 heard of you repeatedly, contessa, though this 
 is the first time I have seen Koine.' 
 
 1 And what do you think of our Koine, signor ?' 
 
 1 How shall I tell «rou what I think of it ! I 
 stand on the bridges, and admire the views like a 
 foreigner !' 
 
 From sentiment they got to satire ; Gemma 
 was in a wicked mood, and spared none of her 
 acquaintance. Mrs. Dalzell, singularly as she had 
 been thrown into foreign society, did not know 
 enough of it to understand the allusions which 
 called forth repeated peals of laughter from the 
 two chief talkers ; but she saw by the curl on Tin- 
 cenzo's lip what he thought of the conversation, 
 and began to wonder if she were doing right to 
 allow the young lady to make this new acquain- 
 tance. Uncertain of Roman customs, she would
 
 268 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 have been uneasy, had not the presence of Count 
 Clementi reassured her. He was saying to Irene, 
 " How you must be looking forward to villeggia- 
 tura /' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I shall have some hard work first. Did 
 I tell you that we are to have a new opera, with an 
 old Roman story for the plot — 11 Caio is the name, 
 and I believe I am to be the heroine, Valeria. I 
 don't know its merits yet. "When we do leave 
 Rome, I hope we shall go to some new place ; 
 Frascati and Albano have become places where 
 people only go to show their fine clothes.' 
 
 ' They save all the year round to make a show 
 in villeggiatura, just as the poor put away a. 
 bajocco or two a week for the October feasts, and 
 then hey! for drives, and new dresses, and pea- 
 cocks' feathers in the hats, and a feast at some 
 little inn outside the walls !' 
 
 ' "Well, are they not wise ? Mankind must have 
 something to look forward to — a laurel crown or 
 an October feast, it does not matter which !' 
 
 ' They both occasion headaches very often,' 
 said Vincenzo ; ' but the laurels last longer.' 
 
 ' Than the headaches, or the feast ? This is a 
 day when roses seem more appropriate than laurels 
 — la parwe a Vhivre, mais le deuil de Pete,' you 
 know !' 
 
 ' If I had the making of the wreath* it should be 
 both mixed — the summer should have its laurels, 
 and the winter its roses,' replied Clementi, in a 
 tone of such real interest, that the words were 
 not complimentary but sympathetic, and Irene 
 smiled gratefully. He had a bit of bay in his 
 hand, and springing lightly up, he gathered a 
 handful of sprays from several trees near, and 
 twisted them into a garland. ' See, Vincenzo, my
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 269 
 
 friend,' said he, playfully, ' my wreath will be more 
 enduring than your wild flowers. Offer your 
 bouquet to Flora — mine is for the Priestess of 
 Apollo.' 
 
 ' Cypress !' said Yincenzo ; ' are you crowning 
 her with cypress ?' 
 
 ' Xo, no ; lignum vitse.' 
 
 1 Nay, it is cypress,' said Irene ; ' never mind, I 
 am not afraid.' 
 
 1 Don't put it on/ said Clementi, hastily. ' A 
 cypress crown ! the first thing I ever gave you ? 
 
 1 Only a very little bit, and a great deal of bay 
 to counteract it. Let me have it.' 
 
 ' Xo,' said Clementi, untwisting the wreath, 
 and throwing away the sprays. A little gust of 
 warm wind bore them back to Irene, who exclaimed, 
 as she took up the ill-omened bough, ' after all, it 
 has come back to me ! See, Count !' She looked 
 the personification of glad fearlessness as she 
 spoke, holding the cypress bough above her head, 
 her mirthful mood entirely restored by the evident 
 seriousness with which Clementi regarded the 
 omen. He broke to pieces a branch which had 
 fallen near him, thinking how true the omen might 
 be — one created only by his own c&nscience, and 
 thus, indeed, prophetic. 
 
 1 Are there laurels in the world to suffice both 
 you and Leone, Irene ?' asked Eavelli, breaking 
 off a conversation with Mrs. Dalzell, during which 
 his eye constantly sought Gremina, who was en- 
 tirely engrossed with her new acquaintance. 
 
 ' Our laurels grow on different trees, Luigi, and 
 his are higher and more evergreen than mine.' 
 
 1 Why is he not here ? we only want him to 
 complete our party,' said Count Clementi. 
 
 ' It was a sudden plan of Mrs. Dalzell's ; Gem-
 
 270 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ma was with us, aiid we all cauie together,' said 
 Yincenzo. ' The sun was so dazzling in the 
 piazzas that the only thing to look at comfortably 
 was one's own shadow. I fully comprehend the 
 force of the Arabian wish, " May your shadow 
 never be less." ' 
 
 ' AYe shall have to fly into the country as soon 
 as we can,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 ' You think of remaining amongst us all the 
 year, signora ? Irene will succeed in persuading 
 you to live altogether in Italy at last,' said de- 
 menti. 
 
 ' Xo ; I have too many friends in Eu gland ; but 
 I confess that Italy attracts me every autumn, as 
 if I were a migratory bird.' 
 
 ' The swallows have not such good taste,' said 
 Yincenzo ; ' in autumn you may see them cluster- 
 ing about Sta. Maria del Popolo by hundreds, and 
 then, off they go.' 
 
 ' San Benedetto, rondina sotto'l tetto ; I see they 
 are come,' said Irene. 
 
 ' Sing Bellegrina Bondinella, Irene,' said Cle- 
 menti, humming the first lines of Grossi's lovely 
 verses, in a voice so sweet and rich, that Mrs. 
 Dalzell at ouce perceived why Madame Marriotti 
 preferred him to Leone. Irene complied, and he 
 sang a second by ear, and the passers-by stopped 
 with one accord, taking off their hats as it con- 
 cluded, with a murmur of ' Bravi ! Bravi /' 
 
 ' They have found you out, Irene/ said Eavelli. 
 1 By the bye, did Leone turn poet on purpose to 
 write songs for you ? I have always intended to 
 ask him.' 
 
 ' You know very well that his poems were 
 famous long before he ever saw us,' she answered, 
 provoked just as he meant her to be.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 271 
 
 1 1 shall break with hiin soon, I foresee,' said 
 Eavelli, between jest and earnest ; ' he has more 
 power than any man in Eome over the people, and 
 the villain uses it to promote his confounded half 
 measures, moderation, peace, and such stuff. There 
 is nothing so peaceful as death ; we have lain in 
 the tomb for ages — ay, like the poor wretches 
 whom Dante saw in their open sepulchres with a 
 shower of burning snow falling on them ; if life 
 return to us, it must be in struggles and suffer- 
 ing. What are we good for, but to fight for our 
 country — live or die for her, as she needs us ? 
 Moderation, while the Austrian stands on our 
 soil ? Viva V Italia ! ' 
 
 ' Efuori i Barhari ! But no more politics to- 
 day, Luigi,' said Clementi, perceiving that Signor 
 Lelio was suddenly regarding them with a stare 
 of offended amazement ; ' can't you talk of some- 
 thing else on a summer's day ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, to be sure,' said Eavelli, flinging himself 
 back on the turf ; ' by all means ; let us talk of 
 violets, and lambs, and brooks, if you like ; no 
 doubt there is much which is profitable to say 
 about them.' 
 
 I Or suppose we go home,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 ■ Are you ready, signorina ? ' 
 
 ' Quite,' answered Gemma, rising ; and they all 
 walked together towards the carriage. 
 
 I I shall see you to-night at my cousin's, contes- 
 sina ?' asked Olivetti, who kept by her side. 
 
 1 Yes ; unless my aunt changes her mind as to 
 going. A rivederla, signor.' 
 
 She sprang into the carriage, and held out a 
 hand to Yincenzo, but Irene looked on waiting 
 upon him as her special right, and speedily arranged 
 his cushions and helped him in ; Mrs. Dalzell fol-
 
 272 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 lowed, the carriage drove away, the young men 
 walked on towards their own, which was at some 
 distance, Olivetti exclaiming, ' Count, often as I 
 have heard of your sister's beauty from my cousin, 
 I was still unprepared for it — what is her name ? ' 
 
 ' Gemma,' replied Clementi, carelessly, while 
 Eavelli looked daggers at this new rival, who con- 
 tinued to express his admiration, and asked if she 
 were yet betrothed. Eavelli looked sharply at the 
 count, whose simple negative was not all he had 
 hoped for. A beggar boy had been following and 
 persecuting them for some minutes, his dolorous 
 whine much interfering with the eloquence of Signor 
 Olivetti, who repulsed him in vain, then suddenly 
 lost patience, and struck him. The boy staggered, 
 but recovered himself with animprecation, 'May you 
 die of a Pratiolo,'' he cried, as he stood glaring after 
 the young man, who had walked on laughing. The 
 lad took no notice of a silver coin which one of those 
 who had seen the brutal act tossed to him, but in a 
 minute or two sprang into a side avenue, and fol- 
 lowed Olivetti and his companions. Clementi 
 remarked coolly, ' Eash, my friend ; we have sti- 
 lettoes here.' 
 
 ' If all the canaglia of Home wore stilettoes, it 
 is the same to me,' answered Olivetti, disdainfully. 
 
 1 Before the signor has been here many days, he 
 will learn that the canaglia are not to be trampled 
 on,' said Eavelli, flushed to the temples, and half 
 choked with indignation ; ' I shall see you again 
 to-night, count,' and he walked rapidly away with- 
 out greeting of any sort to Olivetti, who said, 
 
 ' A friend of yours, count ? he seems to love 
 the rabble strangely.' 
 
 1 Dear signor, is that wonderful in days when
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 273 
 
 King Mob rules ? ' asked Clementi, with his quiet 
 smile. ' When the new monarch's affairs become 
 out of order, we shall see how many adherents he 
 retains.' 
 
 ' I conclude he is a plebeian, this Signor Ravelli; 
 but is it possible that you, a noble, have adopted 
 these republican opinions ?' asked Olivetti, whose 
 wealth would have enriched a dozen such couuts 
 as Clementi, but who laboured under a desire to 
 buy the title which birth had denied to him, and 
 was a more rigid aristocrat than the far-descended 
 [Roman nobles themselves. 
 
 ' It is so. Tou have heard little of Eoman 
 politics, signor, if you know nothing of Eavelli ! ' 
 
 ' I have heard of him as a turbulent, seditious 
 man, and I regret profoundly that my family are 
 to be connected with him. He is not noble ; but 
 you, count, I cannot conceive that youreallytake the 
 side of the mob — you, the head of so old a family?' 
 
 And Clementi found it harder to convince the 
 parvenu of his sincerity, than to deceive all the 
 liberals put together. He inwardly muttered a 
 malediction on his obstinacy, and reflected what 
 unpleasant doubts such talk might awaken among 
 the Bianchi if it should ever come to their ears. Re- 
 solved to stop him, he said at last, ' I am so little 
 of an aristocrat, that I would give my sister to a 
 commoner did it depend on me.' 
 
 ' On whom, then, does it depend? Are not you 
 the head of the family ? ' 
 
 1 My uncle, Monsignore Clementi, is her guar- 
 dian, and his prejudices are invincible.' 
 
 Signor Olivetti's admiration of aristocratic 
 sentiments received a rude shock, but he had 
 acquired the certainty that Clementi would not 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 oppose his washes. The new friends vied with 
 one another in their expressions of affection as 
 they parted, though each party well knew this 
 warmth to be only assumed out of politeness. 
 
 In the evening they met again at Signor Olivetti's 
 house, where Irene, the Eavelli family, Gemma 
 and her uncle and aunt, formed the rest of the 
 societa. The ]adies all wore dark morning dresses; 
 there was no attempt to beautify the room. For 
 some time the gentlemen talked together, and 
 the ladies did the same, exchanging confidences 
 and condolences on the delinquencies of their ser- 
 vants, or discussing the last sermon at the Gesu, 
 and inquiring what had been given out as the 
 subject of the next. Imelda was happy in having 
 Irene with her, but unconsciously shrank a little 
 from Gemma, who, still burning with anger against 
 both Irene and Eavelli, revenged herself on the 
 latter by speedily engaging Lelio Olivetti in a 
 lively conversation. Her aunt scarcely attended 
 to her proceedings, and her uncle thought them 
 his wife's affair. Clementi presently left the elder 
 gentlemen, and discussed the new opera with Irene; 
 and Eavelli, stung by Gemma's conduct, seated him- 
 self by his betrothed, to the visible satisfaction of 
 his father and mother, the latter of whom turned 
 a thankful look to him, believing these attentions to 
 be paid entirely for her sake. He smiled as he met 
 his mother's eye, and Imelda' s heart beat witli 
 frightened joy that made her hardly able to answer 
 his questions — questions put after all with the pa- 
 tronizing yet affectionate manner of a young man 
 towards a pet child. Imelda never did herself jus- 
 tice with Luigi ; she would have got on much better 
 had she been more indifferent to him ; she was too
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 275 
 
 anxious to be worthy of his notice, too much afraid 
 of his thinking her silly, to be at ease with him ; 
 there was always a kind of strain on her mind when 
 she talked to him. It might have been otherwise 
 had she ever been alone with him, or had she been 
 educated so as to be at home in the subjects which 
 interested him. But whether he liked it or not, 
 he could hardly help knowing what he was to her, 
 and this knowledge usually made him keep aloof 
 without asking himself why. There was some- 
 times, however, a sort of pleasure in knowing that 
 it was his presence which brightened that young 
 face, and the conversation begun by him in pure 
 irritation lasted till all the party were called to 
 play at Tombola, a kind of ' lottery tickets,' as an 
 old-fashioned game of cards was once called in 
 England. Pauls were now rapidly won and lost, 
 and the noise and excitement waxed so great, that 
 the elder Signor Olivetti exclaimed, ' Hush — hush, 
 scandalous people ! it is Lent ! ' 
 
 1 No, not to-day, not to-day,' cried several voices 
 in reply, 'it is Pianeta rossa to-day !' implyingby this 
 that the priests had said mass in the red robe which 
 marks a festival, and that therefore Lent was sus- 
 pended. 
 
 * Let the children enjoy themselves,' said his 
 wife ; ' we shall not have another game for ages ; 
 I am going into retreat after Easter.' 
 
 * Where is it to be ? Oh, I know you always 
 go to the same place every year ; I shall be at the 
 Sagro Cuore this year,' said Signora Eavelli; and 
 remarks on this exclusion from the world, the 
 preparation for Easter and Whitsuntide, mingled 
 with the shrieks of delight as fortune favoured or 
 frowned on the players. 
 
 t2
 
 276 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Ravelli still sat by Tmelda, but his eyes turned 
 frequently to Gemma, whose face, to eyes that 
 could read her expression, betrayed jealous uneasi- 
 ness, though she still seemed engrossed by her 
 game and by Signor Lelio. 
 
 Signora Olivetti had her reasons for wishing 
 that Gemma were married ; she had long prepared 
 her cousin Lelio to admire the young contessina, 
 and had now induced her husband to arrange this 
 party expressly for the sake of bringing about a 
 meeting. The interview in the Borghese Gardens 
 had been better luck than she could have hoped ; 
 Lelio was as anxious as could be wished to secure 
 so handsome a wife ; especially as, though dower- 
 less, she was noble. All on his side was so satis- 
 factory, that the next day Signora Olivetti paid a 
 diplomatic visit to Contessa Clementi, who rose to 
 meet her with tender embraces, which were re- 
 turned with equal warmth, while mutual amicable 
 reproaches were exchanged for the length of time 
 that had elapsed since they met. 
 
 ' Sit down, cam,' said the contessa, throwing an 
 indescribable amount of caressing politeness into 
 the simple words, and using the familiar tu. 
 Though they were acquaintances of thirty years' 
 standing, Signora Olivetti replied with ' vol,'' less 
 formal than ' <?//«,' but more respectful than the 
 second person singular. The contessa called the 
 visitor by her Christian name, but the title was 
 used in return ; for the poverty-stricken Clementi 
 were noble, and the rich commoner was far beneath 
 them. 
 
 ' Excuse my not having visited you, dear Gigia,' 
 said the contessa, sinking into her chair again, and 
 observing every minute particular of her visitor's
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 277 
 
 dress as she spoke. ' I go nowhere — I cannot even 
 get to mass now ; I was obliged to get a dispen- 
 sation from fasting this Lent ; my doctor said it 
 would have killed me. But you — you never come 
 near ine ? I am so happy to see you, it is life to 
 me.' 
 
 ' It is the greatest pleasure in the world to me, 
 dearest contessa ; I must thank you too for letting 
 Gemma come to me last night. Did she tell you 
 what a conquest she made of my cousin ? Ah, 
 naughty girl! your mamma knows nothing about it!' 
 
 ' No, she never tells me anything. TVhy have 
 you not brought Imelda ? When is she to be 
 married ? I heard it was to be at Easter.' 
 
 ' I cannot spare her yet ; I must keep her a 
 little longer if Luigi will let me : but you know 
 we mothers must not be unreasonable, and he grows 
 impatient. This autumn I suppose I must let her 
 go. And when is Gemma to marry ?' 
 
 1 Ah, my dear Gigia, you know she might have 
 been married long ago — that excellent mar- 
 chese — ' 
 
 1 "Well, she will be wiser next time; will you not, 
 Gemma ? Suppose I knew of a good match — an 
 admirable young man — the best of characters — 
 rich — rich as Plutus !' 
 
 1 Noble ?' inquired the contessa. 
 
 I Xo, but of a good family ; you cannot have 
 everything, contessa mia ! He would live in Home 
 if you positively desired it ; but his house — his 
 estate — a paradise, I assure you. No one need 
 wish to live elsewhere. She would have an esta- 
 blishment like a princess.' 
 
 I I am afraid my brother-in-law would not 
 consent,' said the contessa, doubtfully.
 
 278 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 * Monsignore Clementi will hear reason. A 
 young man who does not so much as ask if she has 
 a dowry !' 
 
 ' Ah ! that is much !' sighed Contessa Clementi. 
 ' "What is his name — this cousin of Signor Olivetti ?' 
 
 I Yes — I know his whole history ; no debts, no 
 affairs of the heart, an immense property in the 
 Marches — only one fault, he is an enraged Papista I 
 Do not fail to tell monsignore this, contessa. I do 
 not mind telling you his name. I should wish 
 everything to be open and candid — Lelio Benedetto 
 Mariano Olivetti. What did you think of him, 
 my dear little Gemma ?' 
 
 ' I can't tell yet ; I have only seen him twice.' 
 ' But one knows immediately in these matters, 
 carina ; it is the impression on the heart by which 
 we must judge ; character will come by-and-bye.' 
 
 I I think he is too much of a courtier.' 
 
 1 There it is ! — how often I have said, "Lelio mio, 
 speak sincerely ; put sincerity into your manner ; 
 these polite ways may please a foreigner, but no 
 Roman girl will ever marry you !" But 1 do assure 
 you he is an angel, an angel, my dear child.' 
 
 ' He wants an immediate answer, I suppose,' 
 said the contessa, looking apprehensively at her 
 daughter ; ' I don't know — I must consult mon- 
 signore and my son — I can't say — ' 
 
 ' He will wait, he will wait a reasonable time, 
 contessa; I know you have some difficulty with 
 monsignore at present, but I have great hopes. I 
 trust that Lelio's politics will not make your son 
 his enemy ? Meanwhile this darling will consider 
 the matter ; is it not so, Gemma ?' 
 
 ' I must have a week at least then,' said Gemma ; 
 1 1 do not believe I can love him, and I shall make
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 279 
 
 a prayer to be assisted to decide. I cannot con- 
 sent unless I feel that it is Heaven's will, dear 
 signora.' 
 
 ' There is a sweet child ! See how good and 
 pious she is, contessa ! I know how she will decide, 
 and I hope monsignore will be favourable to Lelio 
 too. JNow I must return ; he is dying to know 
 the result of my visit. Good-bye, good-bye, dearest 
 contessa — good-bye, my Gemma.' 
 
 Xew embraces followed before Signora Olivetti, 
 in her splendid dress, swept out of the room. 
 
 1 "What ostentation ! what vulgarity to wear such 
 velvet as that ! Merely to show she is rich ! 
 That is the only way these commoners can try to 
 equal us,' said Contessa Clementi. ' She is in- 
 tolerable ; but if this cousin is really such a good 
 match, we must think about him, Gemma.'
 
 280 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 Xon piace a lei clie innurnerabil turba, 
 
 Viva in alto di fuor, morta di dentro, 
 
 Le applauda a casa, e niano a man percuota ; 
 
 Ne si rallegra de le rozze voci, 
 
 Yolgano a lei quelle infiniti lodi — 
 
 — Ma la possanza del divino ingegno 
 
 Vita di dentro. 
 
 ' rpHEEE is only one thing that I wish, Yin- 
 
 JL cenzo ' — said Mrs. Dalzell, concluding a long 
 conversation, concerning the prospects of Xota 
 and Irene, ' that he were a Protestant ; the 
 more I see of Eomanism, the more I shrink from 
 it. I half hoped that studying and talking with 
 you might win him over.' 
 
 ' You forget how greatly my superior he is, dear 
 Mrs. Dalzell, and besides we never touch on that 
 subject. You don't know how dangerous for us 
 both it would be, though, for that matter, we 
 have discussed things more perilous before now.' 
 
 1 Dangerous ?' 
 
 * Yes ; there are severe laws against spreading 
 Protestant opinions. If you belong to a nation 
 that can take care of you, such as England or 
 France, you will only be expelled by the police ; 
 but if you are an Italian, or say a Swiss, or a 
 Swede, then you will, as sure as fate, see the 
 inside of the Inquisition.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 281 
 
 'The Inquisition, in these days ! is not that a 
 figment of the anti-papist faction ?' 
 
 1 On my honour, it is not. I don't say that 
 torture is used now ; but I know, for a fact, that 
 now, at this moment, the prisons near the Vatican 
 are used for all heretics or priests whom the 
 Holy Tribunal sees fit to imprison ; and all 
 Romanists are bound to denounce a Protestant 
 who attempts to convert them. But the real 
 reason why I never argue on religion with Leone 
 is, that I know it would be useless ; he has the 
 entire, childlike belief that one often finds here, 
 where there is faith at all.' 
 
 ' It is strange, Yincenzo !' 
 
 'It is ; I see more how strange since I have 
 studied the subject, as I really have tried to do. 
 You see that, in some incomprehensible way, the 
 most learned men believe they can reconcile the 
 Church of Rome's present claims with antiquity. 
 Padre Rinaldi does so, for instance. I know, how- 
 ever, that there is not quite as much unity among 
 them as they wish us to believe ; they differ as to 
 the amount of worship to be paid to images, and 
 modern perverts go infinitely further than those , 
 bred and born in the Roman Communion. I 
 don't pretend to comprehend how, in an infallible 
 Church, there can be differences of opinion, or 
 how men can limit their belief; but I know that 
 Leone and a few others hold that, if Protestants are 
 fully persuaded they are in the right, then they 
 are in the Catholic Church ; but most would say 
 there is no hope of salvation for a heretic/ 
 
 'Like the old beggar whom I heard saying 
 yesterday, as poor Mr. Domville's funeral passed
 
 2S2 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 by, " Why make such a fuss for a heretic, who 
 must belong to the evil one !" You don't think 
 Leone would wish to convert Irene ?' 
 
 ' Oh no, and, unlike most Romanists, he knows 
 a good deal about the Church of England ; but 
 still it is sad when husband and wife cannot worship 
 together. I wish from my heart that he belonged 
 to us.' 
 
 ' You are not one of those who think the 
 spirit everything, and the form nothing, Vin- 
 cenzo.' 
 
 1 Ko man could live here and think so,' he 
 replied, with emphasis ; ' I believe our form of 
 prayer has saved England from the unbelief of 
 the Germans.' 
 
 'It is a blessing that many would readily take 
 from us. I notice that, with all Leone's bitter 
 feeling towards the priests (Madama .Cecchi the 
 same), they both reverence the priest's office.' 
 
 ' He looks on the office as entirely holy and 
 distinct ; a bad priest cannot destroy the holiness 
 of his profession, any more than a bad Levite 
 could. You see, the reason Madama Cecchi and 
 others abhor the priests in general is, that they 
 look on them as spies. If the police want infor- 
 mation, they go to the priests, who are bound to 
 be able to give it, using the confessional as 
 their engine, and some wretched old women as 
 spies on the parish. Perhaps you don't know 
 why poor old Nanna was so unpopular ; she 
 always confessed to the parish priest, and doubt- 
 less reported to him all that went on in the 
 palace. I dreaded her more than I can tell you, 
 when we were deep in conspiracy, and hundreds 
 of lives depended on our prudence.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 283 
 
 'Nanna would surely never have betrayed or 
 injured you?' 
 
 ' I cannot tell, if superstition had come into 
 play ; and certainly in a deathbed confession she 
 would. You little know the net of espionage 
 thrown over Home !' 
 
 ' Will you tell ine what you hoped for from all 
 the risk you ran ?' 
 
 1 To counteract the Sanfedists and the Austrian 
 influence, and have a strong party ready to carry 
 out reforms when the right time came. There was 
 compensation for all our harass and peril, in 
 knowing what a gallant set of men there were 
 ready to risk everything for Italy, even when all 
 patriotism appeared to be crushed out. But now, 
 half their heads seem turned; and, while they exalt 
 Nota to the skies, they act on Cecchi's doctrine 
 — not that he is much of a leader, he is too silent 
 and undemonstrative to make much show ; but he 
 and those like him are dangerous men, and I 
 don't know that Eavelli is much better, though 
 he only preaches wild doctrines, because he is a 
 mad, headstrong fellow, who enjoys uproar and 
 danger ; not that he has any personal grudge 
 against Government ; and, somehow, the more 
 provoking and unreasonable he is, the better I 
 like him ! It would take half the day to count 
 up his freaks. I always believed that he knew, 
 from the best authority, who chalked up, on the 
 door of the Austrian Embassy's Palace, ' Fuori i 
 harbari /' 
 
 1 Leone once said he was like the wind, equally 
 unstable and equally violent,' said Mrs. Dalzell. 
 
 1 There is a spirit and fun in him, that somehow 
 one can't help being taken with,' said Vincenzo,
 
 284 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 smiling at many old recollections ; ' and yet he has 
 often thoroughly exasperated me.' 
 
 ' To return to Leone,' said Mrs. Dalzell, ' whom 
 I like more the more I see of him. I wish he and 
 Irene could marry ; I am rather an advocate for 
 early marriages.' 
 
 1 We are very happy as we are,' said Vincenzo. 
 ' I don't think a little waiting matters.' 
 
 ' Would they say the same ?' 
 
 ' Well, I am not quite so sure, and after all I 
 wish nearly as much to have Leone for a brother 
 as he can to have Irene for a wife. No one can 
 guess what he has been to me.' 
 
 ' Vincenzo,' said Mrs. Dalzell, c let me ask this 
 once — are you happy now ?' 
 
 His pale face flushed. ' Yes, signora, I am 
 happy,' he answered, in a deep, low tone, and with 
 a look that seemed to gaze far away. ' Yes, I 
 have learnt at last, that sickness may be a vocation, 
 as well as labour — and I have had so much to 
 make it easy to me.' 
 
 He had once wrung her heart by the anguish 
 that his despair had re-awakened there ; but she 
 received double recompence, as she felt that her 
 words at that time had been a prophecy. Vincenzo 
 had conquered in a battle where stronger men 
 might have sunk down and perished, and the 
 reward was a peace which none should ever take 
 away. Mrs. Dalzell bent down and kissed him, as 
 if he had been the lost son for whose sake she had 
 first loved him. That love of hers was one of the 
 things to which Vincenzo alluded when he spoke 
 of some things that had lightened his trials, but 
 truly the orphans had well repaid her for her kind- 
 ness. She knew that many of her friends,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 285 
 
 especially at Home, had commented on her conduct 
 towards them, had even blamed her ; but she was 
 accountable to no one ; she said all that was neces- 
 sary to such as had any right to question her, and 
 let the rest of the world make a nine-days' wonder 
 of the matter if it liked. One or two knew 
 that the orphan brother and sister had come into 
 her hands, when something to love was a true 
 Grodsend to her. The old saying, so fittingly ex- 
 pressed by Schiller, applied in this case as in many 
 others. 
 
 'A millstone and the human heart go ever round and round; 
 If they have nothing else to grind, themselves they must be 
 ground.' 
 
 Her friends had grown accustomed to the affair 
 and speculated no longer about it ; indeed she 
 began to derive credit from having patronized so 
 promising a cantatrice as Mademoiselle Mori : but 
 some of her acquaintance could still torment her 
 a little when an opportunity occurred, as she 
 found when, after her conversation with Vincenzo 
 was over, she walked to one of the libraries in the 
 Piazza di Spagna, to see by the arrival book whether 
 a friend had yet reached Eome. As usual, the shop 
 was nearly full of idlers, some looking at a port- 
 folio of photographs, others examining the books, 
 or speaking to the courteous librarian, others 
 looking at the list of ceremonies to see what was 
 goiug on that week. Disconnected sentences in 
 English and German crossed and re-crossed in all 
 directions ; here two Englishmen were conversing, 
 one looking up like a cock-sparrow at the other, 
 a tall, fresh-coloured Oxford giant, who dolefully 
 complained that ' Eome was so slow.'
 
 286 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Why, when I saw you last you were going to 
 set up a boat on the Tiber !' responded his little 
 friend. 
 
 ' Couldn't be done. I don't know what on 
 earth to do with myself to-day ; Travers has been 
 to the place where the pigs are killed, but he says 
 it's a beastly sight.' 
 
 ' You should do like me, try a tour in the 
 Campagna — beds uncommon hard, fare not so 
 bad — good for your constitution.' 
 
 The treble of female voices entering drowned the 
 rest. A blooming, red-haired girl was saying to 
 her companions, ' Oh, I am half dead with sight- 
 seeing ; we kept it all for Lent, for really we had 
 no energy for it when we were going to two or 
 three parties every night.' 
 
 ' Well, I am glad to have seen Rome, certainly, 
 but I shall be so thankful to go away.' 
 
 ' Off to Naples ?' floated across from another 
 group ; ' you come back for Holy Week ?' 
 
 ' Service at San Luigi, four p.m. ; write that 
 down, Louisa.' 
 
 ' Oh, mamma, I am so anxious to hear Pere 
 Yaudreuil preach ; I wonder if we could get 
 introduced to Mrs. Mayor ; she has a private chapel 
 in her house, and — ' 
 
 Mrs. Dalzell listened with amusement as she 
 looked down the pages of the arrival book undis- 
 turbed, till two of her acquaintances came in, the 
 lady with whom she had driven on the Pincian 
 Hill the first Sunday that she had noticed Yincenzo, 
 the other a gentleman whose face betrayed so sar- 
 castic a nature, that his address, ' Pray how are 
 your orphans ?' seemed a satire, simple as it was. 
 
 1 1 thought you were gone to Naples,' replied 
 Mrs. Dalzell.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 287 
 
 ' So, I leave that to people who wish to observe 
 Lent strictly. lhopeyourp?*0feyes are flourishing?' 
 
 'Very, thank you; and I hope you kept your 
 word, and went to see Mademoiselle Mori on 
 Tuesday night.' 
 
 1 1 did, and I think you are a bold woman to 
 have anything to do with so admirable an actress.' 
 
 ' Mr. Thornton maintains that no girl could 
 enter so entirely into the feelings of Adelaide with- 
 out having experienced them,' said the other lady. 
 
 1 1 hope Mr. Thornton will not whisper calumny 
 to support his theory, which is otherwise quite 
 untenable,' said Mrs. Dalzell, not quite as calmly 
 as usual. 
 
 ' I don't dispute the fact of Mademoiselle Mori 
 being a prodigy of virtue as well as talent,' said 
 Mr. Thornton. ' !No doubt actresses are very 
 different here from what they are in England — I 
 only say you are a bold woman.' 
 
 1 Mademoiselle Mori is a cantatrice,' said Mrs. 
 Dalzell, ' and you ought to know how much higher 
 her profession ranks here than that of the " prose 
 actresses." ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, it is only a part of his systematical 
 disbelief in everythiug good,' said the second lady ; 
 1 all the world knows that mademoiselle is as good 
 as she is clever. There is no society into which she 
 is not received, and I hear that her brother is such 
 an interesting person. I confess that I did trem- 
 ble for you at first, especially when I heard that 
 your Irene was to be a cantatrice ; but you were 
 wiser than we.' 
 
 1 If Mr. Thornton deserved it, I would introduce 
 him to Signor Mori and his sister,' said Mrs. Dal- 
 zell ; ' but with him not even seeing is believing 
 where goodness is concerned.'
 
 288 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Mr. Thornton made her a half-mocking bow as 
 she shook hands and left the library. ' An extra- 
 ordinary freak, certainly !' said he ; ' and yet she 
 is a sensible woman, and not romantic' 
 
 . ' Oh yes, she is indeed ; yon don't know her,' 
 said his companion, laughingly ; ' she absolutely 
 believes in truth, and honour, and gratitude — 
 obsolete virtues, which wise people like you and 
 me know no longer exist, if they ever did ; and 
 strange to say, nothing ever occurs to show her 
 what a sad delusion she is labouring under !' 
 
 ' She must find this charitable whim rather ex- 
 pensive !' 
 
 ' No, you are wrong again ; I know as a fact 
 that this brother and sister have entirely main- 
 tained themselves for some time, and Mademoiselle 
 Mori has already made her profession honoured 
 here ; if you sneered at it in Eoman society, the 
 liabitues would quote her directly against you. 
 The cantatrices have always been tolerably well 
 spoken of, and she has given a sort of credit to 
 them all ; I know from many facts that she is as 
 noble a creature as ever existed. jNow you may 
 believe me, for you know very well that I am not 
 much given to crediting goodness in any one.' 
 
 Before Mrs. Dalzell came in again, Irene re- 
 turned from rehearsal, lookiug weary and vexed. 
 Yincenzo was at the window, trimming his plants 
 and making friendly signs to Yelvet Cap over the 
 way; but he turned round as she opened the door, 
 with a face of welcome. She smiled in answer, 
 but her countenance was clouded still. 
 
 ' The rehearsal has not gone smoothly ? Madame 
 St. Simon out of humour ?' asked Vincenzo. 
 
 ' As usual. We have been rehearsing for three
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 289 
 
 hours, and I am quite tired,' said Irene, sitting 
 down wearily. ' She will not appear in the Caio, 
 half out of spite to me, half because Marchese 
 Cortona is sure to be offended by the new opera. 
 She appeared — pretended to be too ill to sing, but 
 was not too ill to set all the company quarrelling. 
 At last Signor Mattei settled that Emilia Orioli 
 takes her part, I am Valeria, Sanzio is Virginio, 
 Varchi is Caio. The disputes, the vile, mean 
 motives that degrade everything, even music ! 
 malice and jealousy and party spirit — I feel as if 
 I hated it all after such a morning as this !' 
 
 1 It is the prosaic side of your art, dear Irene.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is all vanity and vexation — all ! When 
 I think of what music should be — of what I have 
 in my mind, and how utterly mean, how despica- 
 ble my best attempts to express it are — Yincenzo, 
 I am ready never to act again ! It is here — in 
 my mind — I have glorious visions here ; but oh, 
 it is all failure when I try to give them form. 
 I despise myself, and those who applaud me — ■ 
 I can do nothing — nothing !' 
 
 1 You would do nothing worth doing assuredly, 
 if you did reach your own ideal. That ought to be 
 too high to be ever attained,' said Yincenzo. 
 
 ' And then,' continued Irene, who was visibly 
 despondent and excited, ' if I were a true artist, 
 should I care as I do for applause not worth hav- 
 ing ? I could not act without it — I should be cold, 
 uninspired — .' 
 
 ' My dear, you know nothing about it. It is 
 not the mere applause ; it is the sympathy, the 
 consciousness of power over the feelings of others, 
 that inspires you, not the plaudits of a crowd. 
 What artist does not feel the same !' And then, 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 as Irene sighed wearily, lie added, ' You, and all 
 who have stolen a spark of heavenly fire, must 
 take the penalty with it, my dear Prometheus. 
 Come, you want something to sober you — one of 
 Madame Marriotti's musical soirees' 
 
 1 Ah ! this is her evening ! that will be thorough 
 refreshment. I wonder if we shall all be there 
 to-night. Madame Marriotti has picked up an- 
 other alto, a nice middle-aged Miss Grahame ; 
 she walked home from church yesterday with 
 Mrs. Dalzell and me. I think it is pleasant to 
 know some English.' 
 
 ' Shall you go on practising that piece of Scar- 
 latti's to-night ?' 
 
 ' Most likely, and a madrigal of Felice Anerio's. 
 There certainly is some attraction about Madame 
 Marriotti, which brings all musicians to her house. 
 Yincenzino, is it quite impossible that you should 
 go there to-night ? I want you to hear us per- 
 form.' 
 
 He shook his head. ' My powers of locomotion 
 don't increase. Besides, I have had pleasure enough 
 for one day.' 
 
 ' What is it ?' 
 
 ' A visitor. A Sir Arthur Laurie, who had 
 heard of my carvings, and came to find me out — 
 and why do you think ? He has one of our 
 father's paintings, and wanted to make out if I 
 were the same Mori. I wish you had been in 
 doors that you might have heard how pleasantly 
 he told me how he was delighted with it at the 
 Hoyal Academy years ago, and bought it. He 
 always intended to look for the artist if ever he 
 came to Rome ; and having come at last, he in 
 quired after him, but nobody could give him any 
 
 :
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 291 
 
 information ; they thought he must mean me, and 
 said there was a Mori who carved, but did not 
 paint.' 
 
 ' Ah, I suppose that here papa was only one 
 amongst the hundreds of painters ; but I never 
 see any pictures like his. If we could but find 
 any of those we were forced to sell !' 
 
 1 He is remembered in England, however ; and 
 Sir Arthur said that if we ever go to England, we 
 must visit him in his house in Northumberland, 
 and see the painting.' 
 
 ' That is pleasant, dear Yincenzo — .' 
 
 1 II signor ' announced Carmela, looking in, 
 
 and leaving the visitor waiting in the ante-room. 
 
 ' Oh, Carmela, do remember to ask visitors in at 
 once — who is it ? Favorisca, signor. Ah ! Signor 
 Sanzio.' 
 
 ' Good morning,' said Yincenzo, holding out his 
 hand cordially to the chief bass singer at Irene's 
 theatre, who being an old friend, on the strength 
 of it presently observed to Irene, " So, signorina, 
 I am glad to see that brow of yours rather 
 smoother than when I had the pleasure of re- 
 hearsing with you.' 
 
 ' Oh, I am quite amiable now, signor ; but who 
 could have been calm this morning in such a storm 
 of cross purposes ? Signor Mattei in despair, 
 Madame St. Simon in open rebellion, all the rest 
 insubordinate.' 
 
 ' Mademoiselle Mori included. I have been ad- 
 vising our manager to change the opera, but ' 
 
 1 Change the opera !' cried Irene; ' let the others 
 triumph ! — not for a moment ! ' 
 
 1 You are disinterested, signorina, for I never 
 heard you in a part less suited to you. You know 
 
 v2
 
 292 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 this new thing that we are all at sixes and sevens 
 about, Signor Mori ? A folly got up for the 
 present time ; an ancient Eoman story to fit 
 modern Eoman times, liberty, fraternity, &c. Va 
 bene — I dare say your sister has told you all the 
 ins and outs. Eor my part I think the opera had 
 better keep clear of politics ; we are only running 
 ourselves into imbroglios, but that I leave to Signor 
 Mattei. However, I must say that the part of 
 Valeria is quite unworthy of your sister — she will 
 never make anything of it. 1 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Irene, with a little scorn ; ' wait 
 and see, signor.' 
 
 She sat down to the piano and commenced the 
 first solo in the forthcoming opera, one where the 
 Eoman maiden Valeria described her lover in com- 
 bat against the enemies of Eome. As Signor 
 Sanzio had said, the opera was a slight thing, got 
 up merely to please the popular taste of the day, 
 and had no chance against criticism ; but Irene 
 put so much soul into her part, that its poverty 
 and triviality disappeared; she created it, in fact; 
 she was singing her own feelings ; she too was 
 Eoman, and JNota was her hero ! 
 
 ' Ah ! you sang very differently this morning,' 
 said Signor Sanzio, shaking his head. 
 
 ' I know . I could not feel it then. Is it 
 
 not true that something can be made of Valeria?' 
 
 1 True enough, it seems ; but I am convinced 
 that this operetta is a folly — una pazzeria. There 
 is a strong party for Madame St. Simon, and she 
 will move heaven and earth to make us fail; her 
 engagement is just out, she is going to Naples, 
 and she will wind up comfortably by spiting you. 
 Besides, I know this will be made a furious party
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 293 
 
 matter ; the Oscurantisti will raise a tumult as 
 sure as I sing bass at our theatre. Parties are 
 runniug so high just now, that a feather would 
 cause a revolution.' 
 
 1 Poor music !' said Vincenzo. 
 
 1 Ay, poor music ! she gets into very indifferent 
 society sometimes ; one can't keep her in the 
 hands of Santa Cecilia and the angels. It is a 
 trade after all; we cater for the public, and we 
 must please the popular taste, though your sister 
 won't allow it.' 
 
 ' Even Madame Mariotti says something of the 
 same kind at times,' said Vincenzo ; 'but I believe 
 she looks forward to Irene's going to regions 
 where music is better understood.' 
 
 Irene smiled and shook her head ; her hopes 
 centred in Rome. 
 
 ' Vienna, or London for instance,' continued 
 Signor Sanzio. ' It would be just as well to go 
 away for awhile ; you would come back with fresh 
 prestige, and we should have felt the want of you. 
 At present there is a faction for Madame St. 
 Simon, and that implies one against you ; you have 
 more enemies than friends in the company, for all 
 the bad ones are against you, and only the good 
 for you, including myself!' 
 
 ' You have indeed been an excellent friend, 
 Signor Sanzio,' said Vincenzo ; ' Irene would not 
 now stand as she does quite free from all the 
 tracasseries of the theatre, but for you.' 
 
 1 Pooh — pooh, I only gave her the benefit of a 
 little of my five-and- thirty years' experience of the 
 stage ; she would have fought her way well enough, 
 even if I had not been there.' 
 
 'But you often held out a hand to me, when
 
 294 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 others stood by, waiting to see me fall,' said 
 Irene. 
 
 ' The only danger for you was, that you were 
 too inexperienced to know evil when you saw it ; 
 that wisdom is soon acquired. T knew it would 
 be war to the death from Madame St. Simon from 
 the night that you made so much of that trifling 
 part of Elvira, that you quite threw her into the 
 background. She had broken in the poor Bresca so 
 completely, that the girl never dreamed of doing 
 anything but second her, and doubtless it was very 
 unpleasant to find that a new rival had sprung up 
 — such a very intractable one too ! ' 
 
 ' I suspect, signor, you have no great love for 
 Madame St. Simon,' said Yincenzo. 
 
 ' Signor Mori, if you could conceive what that 
 woman has made me suffer ! I could forgive her 
 airs and caprices and jealousies — all that is allow- 
 able to her as prima donna, and as woman ; but, 
 when I hear her falsifying a great composer's 
 work to show off her voice, I feel capable of any 
 excesses ! Now, the very reason why from the 
 first I had great hopes of your sister was, that 
 she never tried to propitiate the Saint Simon, and 
 never made a point at the expense of truth ; when 
 a part was simple, she let it remain so ; she fol- 
 lows what the composer indicates ; whereas the 
 habits of most singers are such, that Kossini was 
 obliged to write all his ornaments ; but sometimes 
 the composer indicates nothing, as in this Caio, 
 and she makes far too much of Valeria, and that 
 is wrong, for the audience will believe the music 
 worth something.' 
 
 ' If ever I am prima donna assoluta? began 
 Irene.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 295 
 
 1 That is to say, if you are here next season, 
 when we are delivered from the Saint Simon •' 
 
 ' I should try very hard to make the chorus 
 a little less like mop-sticks. They ought all to 
 feel that they are priestesses of the temple, though 
 of a lower grade, and the scenery might surely be 
 less bad, and our wardrobe more classical/ 
 
 1 In vain — quite in vain, signorina. First of all, 
 the style of accessory you are imagining would 
 cost more, chorus and scenery. You can't make 
 a bramble-bush into an orange-tree by money, but 
 you must pay if you want oranges instead of black- 
 berries. A better style of singer would want 
 higher pay. Then secondly, what do the Romans 
 care for good acting or scenery in the opera ? 
 They say we want singing, not acting ; they are 
 content with a voice molto agile, with plenty of 
 jioratura in it ; that alone has made ]\Iadaine St. 
 Simon popular — she has not, and never had a 
 spark of genius.' 
 
 1 Surely it is our business to improve the public 
 taste, Signor Sanzio, not to take advantage of its 
 low tone.' 
 
 ' Dreams, dreams, signorina ; you must go to 
 England. There the opera is for the rich, here it 
 is for the people. If you can inspire us all with 
 your own ideas, manco male, but — !' 
 
 1 It is of no use arguing with you, signor ! You 
 spoke of Catarina Bresca just now — why has she 
 not been at rehearsal lately ?' 
 
 1 111, I believe. She has been dismissed for non- 
 attendance. I have not heard of her since the 
 night she failed.' 
 
 ' Poor Catarina !' said Irene, ' the public little 
 think how cruel they are. That night when she
 
 296 MADEMOISELLE MORL 
 
 was hissed, I saw her just before the call-boy 
 summoned us ; she was leaning against the wall 
 choking with tears ; I tried to learn what was the 
 matter, but she only repulsed me, and then came, 
 11 Signori e signore, si va cominciar" and I could 
 not wait. I have never seen her since.' 
 
 ' Ah, poor thing, it has been clear this long 
 while her voice was going.' 
 
 ' What do you suppose will become of her ?' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. ' What does become 
 of such as she when they cease to charm the 
 public ? I should suppose she had not a farthing 
 in the world. It is no joke to depend on one's 
 voice for a subsistence ; a cold, an illness — 'tis 
 gone ! I shall never forget the look of terror and 
 anguish with which poor Viola once said to me, 
 " I am losing my voice !" and I could not deny it. 
 Ah, poveretta, she died in a garret ; she, the 
 queen of cantatrices ! She and all the rest of us 
 live like grasshoppers — we chirp all the summer, 
 and perish in the winter!' 
 
 Yincenzo looked fondly at Irene, and thought 
 with gratitude that she was not entirely dependent 
 on her voice for a subsistence. She looked sad, 
 and said, ' I should like to know something about 
 Catarina ; where does she live ? ' 
 
 Signor Sanzio gave the address, but added, 
 1 You have done wisely to keep aloof from her, 
 poor thing, so far — for what are you seeking after 
 her now ? You know she and others have 
 done many an ill turn to " Sant' Irene !" Do 
 you know, Signor Mori, that a certain set have 
 bestowed that name on your sister ? They declare 
 she lives like an anchorite, and that if she were 
 not a heretic the Pope ought to canonize her ?'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 297 
 
 Irene blushed, as much past annoyance was thus 
 recalled to her mind. ' Did I ever seem to care 
 for their folly, signor ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my signorina, for any one who saw how 
 your lip would curve, and how loftily you carried 
 that graceful head, would have seen that in your 
 heart you did care, and little marvel ; but you are 
 no doubt too proud to bear malice.' 
 
 1 1 hope so,' said Irene, laughingly. ' A theatrical 
 life ought to harden one against little vexations, 
 or it would be intolerable.' 
 
 1 If ever you feel cast down and discouraged, as 
 I saw you when you left the theatre to-day, re- 
 member this, signorina,' said the old man, suddenly 
 changing his bantering, satirical tone for one full 
 of feeling : ' you have not lived in vain ; you have 
 done honour to our profession ; you have raised its 
 character, young as you are. You have proved 
 that a cantatrice may be admired and successful, 
 and yet bear as fair a name as any nun in a cloister. 
 Only keep on as you have begun ; I cannot say 
 more than that !' 
 
 1 Thanks, Signor Sanzio,' said Yincenzo, much 
 gratified, and Irene's eyes were glistening with 
 tears that prevented her from replying. Tempta- 
 tions, harass, trials, all seemed nothing at that 
 moment, when her heart thrilled with the conscious- 
 ness that what Signor Sanzio said was but the 
 truth. 
 
 1 There, I hear another visitor coming ; I shall 
 go,' said he, rising; but Yincenzo stopped him with, 
 * No, pray stay ; it is Nota.' 
 
 ' Signor Nota ? Ah ; I generally do have the 
 pleasure of meeting him here,' said Signor Sanzio, 
 with a smiling, penetrating look at Irene, whose
 
 298 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 engagement to Leone was generally surmised, 
 though not formally acknowledged. ' Well, signor, 
 have you headed any more deputations to his 
 Holiness lately ?' 
 
 ' jSo,' said Leone, who looked somewhat ha- 
 rassed. ' We have too much of such demonstrations. 
 Talk hinders work. Irene, I have been finding 
 out all I can of Kettuno for Mrs. Dalzell ; I don't 
 believe it is a place for you to make your 
 villeggiatura in.' 
 
 ' What ! Nettuno !' said Signor Sanzio, ' near 
 the old Porto d'Ansio ? A mere village ; the sea has 
 eaten away the rocks, till it washes under a thin 
 shell of ground ; village, and fortress, and all will be 
 swallowed some day. You are not going there?' 
 
 ' We heard it was a pretty place, with sea and 
 oak woods.' 
 
 ' Sea, yes. Forest three miles off, unless you 
 count brushwood. A wretched place ; the one 
 good thing about it is the costume.' 
 
 ' I have seen it in Carnival,' said Vincenzo; ' the 
 girls wear green ribbons in their hair, the wives 
 red, and the widows violet ; but I can't help think- 
 ing ]S"ettuno used to have a Greek costume — why 
 did they leave it off?' 
 
 ' I can't say — ask the poet.' 
 
 ' The tradition says, that they once wore a 
 kirtle of scarlet, reaching the knee/ said Leone, 
 ' till the plague swept off half the population ; and 
 after this sign that Heaven was displeased at their 
 scandalous dress, they changed it. So you don't 
 recommend Nettuno, Signor Sanzio ?' 
 
 ' No, indeed, it would be villeggiatura with a 
 vengeance. " In ogni paese e buona stanza dove 
 si leve il sole," as they say in my own Florence ;
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 299 
 
 but it is a stanza I should hire by the day, rather 
 than the week ; and it would be dear at a paul. 
 Well, what news do you bring of public affairs, 
 Signor Xota ? I see you have the Patria there ; 
 the Alba has gone mad, I verily believe ; I wish 
 Government would prohibit it.' 
 
 'Oh, you are an Oscurantisto!' said Irene, play- 
 fully ; ' that is why you are against the Caio? 
 
 1 Only too old to roll along with the times, 
 signorina. I shall go to Naples, where they are 
 going backwards, instead of forwards. Some day 
 we shall hear of a new kind of Vesuvius there. 
 Oh, what asses, what asses our rulers are here 
 and there, and what days you young rebels will 
 see yet ! Ah, you don't believe me ! Addio, then, 
 addio ; remember what I say about Valeria, 
 signorina !' 
 
 Seizing his purple umbrella, Signor Sanzio de- 
 parted, keeping on the shady side of every street 
 with his canopy over his head, and murmuring 
 something to himself which might have been sa- 
 tire, or might have been song ; the odd smile 
 upon his face seemed to hint it was the former. 
 
 "When he was gone Irene taxed Leone with 
 looking weary, and asked if it was the fault of 
 his work in the Dateria, or the newspaper which 
 he now edited, or what ? 
 
 ' This is a splendid article in reply to that atro- 
 cious paper in the Alba,' said Vincenzo, taking up 
 Leone's newspaper. ' I knew immediately that 
 you had written it.' 
 
 1 It has gone some way towards shaking my in- 
 fluence, Vincenzo. I find that a man who wishes 
 to be popular must lead the cry of the day ; once 
 try to hold the people in, and you grow unpopu-
 
 300 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 lar. We had a stormy meeting again last night ; 
 a speech of dementi's set everybody by the ears ; 
 then two or three more spoke, urging violent 
 measures and a Kepublic. I got up and talked 
 for nearly an hour, and I believe had made some 
 impression ; but that ass of a Lelio Olivetti had 
 found his way in, and must needs try his hand at 
 a speech— made a furious, blundering, double-dis- 
 tilled Papista one, and there was an uproar as if 
 all the lunatics from Santo Spirito were let loose 
 among us ! There will be an outbreak soon, un- 
 less some outlet be found for the spirit of the peo- 
 ple. If they could only enlist, and march against 
 the Austrians ! I got a hearing again, and suggested 
 a volunteer corps, and the idea took ; but I don't 
 know whether we shall be allowed to carry it out.' 
 
 ' It will come to that some day,' said Vincenzo, 
 and Irene's soft, dark eyes rested anxiously on 
 Leone, who, however, dropped the subject with 
 1 And how do you suppose the police have been 
 employed this morning r In sweeping up little 
 red caps of liberty with which unknown hands 
 had strewed the whole Corso !' 
 
 Irene laughed, and Vincenzo asked, ' "Was Ea- 
 velli at the meeting last night ?' 
 
 ' Oh, to be sure — the most outrageous there !' 
 
 Leone could not help joining in the laugh, and 
 no one thought it necessary to express their entire 
 conviction who was the author of the practical joke 
 that had so much scandalized the authorities.
 
 301 
 
 CHAPTEB XYII. 
 
 Lungi dal proprio rarao, 
 Povera foglia frale, 
 Dove vai tu ? Dal faggio 
 La dov' io nacqui mi divise il vento, 
 Vo pellegrina, e tutto l'altro ignore 
 
 Leopaedi. 
 
 ATTEXDED by her maid, Irene went to seek 
 for Catarina Bresca, whom hitherto she had 
 only seen with disdain and aversion, as one of 
 those who brought discredit on her profession. 
 Catarina took secondary parts, and had a telling 
 voice, and the beauty of youth and loveliness 
 when Irene first saw her ; but voice and beauty 
 had been fast vanishing of late. The girl was 
 grieving about something, or overworked, or — in 
 short, no one knew or cared what ; she had been 
 dismissed from the corps dra??iatique, and was 
 already nearly forgotten. 
 
 Irene reached the house whither she had been 
 directed by Signor Sanzio, and leaving her maid 
 below to wait for her, ran up the dark, creaking 
 staircase, and knocked at a door, which opening 
 gave to new a dirty, untidy room, apparently 
 serving for a whole family to live in both by day 
 and night. Two men were busy cutting cameos 
 by the window ; a group of noisy children sat on 
 the floor playing at Lupo, and half-a-dozen 
 pigeons walked familiarly about. Irene could
 
 302 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 hardly make her inquiries heard, but at last was 
 bidden to go up to another story. Here she found 
 a woman spinning, who directed her to an opposite 
 room. ' Passi ! ' was returned to her knock, and 
 she entered a small disorderly apartment, where a 
 girl lay on a bed, wrapped in a shawl of gay 
 colours and fine texture, which, though now soiled 
 and dirty, betrayed by its costliness that she had 
 known riches as well as poverty. A ray of sun- 
 shine came in through the glowing window panes, 
 and glittered on a half-made Swiss costume, the 
 gaudy hues of which contrasted strangely with the 
 squalid look of everything else. Catarina raised 
 herself up with difficulty, to see who had come 
 in, and a deeper flush came on her thin, hectic 
 cheeks. 
 
 'What! Sant' Irene!' she exclaimed, ' Sant' 
 Irene here ! Here ! She who would not have 
 touched me with the hem of her gown ! ' A fit of 
 hard and painful coughing stopped her, and shiver- 
 ing she drew her shawl closer round her. 
 
 'I thought you must be ill, Catarina; I have not 
 seen you at rehearsal all the week/ said Irene, 
 taking the girl's fevered hand in her own cool 
 fresh one. Catarina snatched it away. 
 
 1 Say it out ; you have not seen me since the 
 night I was hissed ! Ah, the stony hearts ! I had 
 not tasted food that day — I was ready to faint ; 
 and I had to go on the stage and be hissed for 
 singing false. You may know yet what it is to 
 have to act when your heart is breaking ! Oh no, 
 not you ; you have rich friends, you can afford 
 to despise such as I am.' 
 
 1 Catarina, I have known what it is to be 
 starving.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 303 
 
 'You?' 
 
 ' Yes, I and my brother ; but a kind friend 
 saved us. Will you not let me help you, as she 
 helped me ? Indeed, I want to be friends with 
 you, Catarina.' 
 
 ' What did you come here for ? ' asked Catarina, 
 scrutinizing her face. 
 
 ' Only to see if I could do anything for you.' 
 
 'You would not have spoken to me a week ago.' 
 
 Irene was silent, and the girl broke out passion- 
 ately, ' Oh, you who hold yourselves so high above 
 us poor wretches, what do you know of our temp- 
 tations, you who are kept like relics in a shrine, 
 and have kind friends and a home ! I might have 
 been a saint if I had had a home like yours. I 
 was born in a back street in Naples, and I don't 
 know who my father was ; and if people wished to 
 twit me, they cast my mother's name in my teeth ! 
 No one about us knew bad from good ; we were 
 not ashamed, for we did not know what to be 
 ashamed of; we believed the whole world was like 
 ourselves. I sang at the cafes, and Griordani took 
 me as his pupil on speculation ; and then I was at 
 the theatres there, and next I came here, and you 
 know the rest. I may as well die now, for I've 
 nothing to live by but my voice, and that's gone — 
 I've no more than — a jay,' she concluded with a 
 bitter laugh, as she uttered that word, the most 
 contemptuous, when applied to a woman, in the 
 Italian language. 
 
 1 1 must have often seemed very cruel,' said 
 Irene, remorsefully, as she recalled how she had 
 always shrunk from the unhappy girl. 
 
 1 It was no wonder,' said Catarina, too feeble to 
 sustain her vehement tone, and touched by the
 
 304 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 compassion of Irene's tearful eyes. ' You had a 
 right to despise ine, I suppose — all the world would 
 do the same, and those who led me to this would 
 be the first to do so. I have not a creature in 
 the world that cares for me. I have been a leaf 
 blown about in the wind all my life, and the sooner 
 it withers the better. If you were ill, you would 
 have a dozen friends round you. They say you are 
 half Neapolitan, is that true ? 
 
 ' My mother came from Sora.' 
 
 ' Do you remember her ?' asked the girl, study- 
 ing her face with strange, sad curiosity. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I often see her in my dreams.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you are not ashamed to name her ?' said 
 Catarina, a tear stealing down her hot cheek. 
 ' You are happy ! JNo one can taunt you with her 
 name. I always gave money as long as I had any to 
 buy masses for my mother's soul. I had some one 
 to love me while she lived ; and when people taunt 
 me about her, I give them as good as they bring, 
 for I loved her dearly. No one else ever cared 
 whether I lived or died, or I might have been 
 different from what I am.' 
 
 ' Are you really alone here all day ?' 
 
 ' Yes. The neighbours don't like to come much, 
 because they say consumption is contagious. I may 
 not have got it — no doctor has said so \ Catarina 
 interrupted herself quickly — ' They are a set of 
 cowards. There, now I suppose you will not 
 venture here again — I don't know why I suppose 
 you would. You had better not/ 
 
 Some lingering dislike of Irene, desire to retain 
 this her only visitor, and something of generous 
 fear that she might be injured by her visits to a 
 consumptive girl, mingled in this speech. Irene
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 305 
 
 assured her she had no fear, and reflected what she 
 could do for her. 
 
 ' Tell me what you want most, Catarina ?' 
 
 ' Everything ! I have nothing even to drink. 
 I woke last night dying of thirst, and could not 
 reach a drop of water. I coughed till morning, 
 and at last the woman in the room opposite heard 
 me, and came in.' 
 
 ' AVould she fetch you what you want ?' 
 
 1 Yes, I daresay she would. Oh, I have so 
 longed for an orange ! These last three nights, I 
 have dreamed of the orange trees at Sorrento, and 
 when I wake and find myself in* the dark in this 
 hole, I would throw myself out of the window, only 
 I dare not — death is so terrible. I could have 
 been so happy, if life had been a little less cruel ; 
 after all, death can hardly be worse. I am sure I 
 did not ask for much !' 
 
 Irene leant over her and kissed her, full of com- 
 passion. Catarina looked up astonished. 
 
 • Xo one has ever kissed me so kindly since my 
 mother died !' said she ; ' if all heretics be like you, 
 there can be no room for Catholics in Paradise. 
 But I shall never get there — our old priest said so 
 long ago.' 
 
 ' Dear Catarina,' said Irene, ' I have read the 
 history of our Lord Jesus Christ, and it tells how 
 many people came to Him to be cured of sickness, 
 and blindness, and deafness, but only one is men- 
 tioned as having come to Him for nothing but to 
 ask forgiveness for her sins, and that was a woman. 
 She had led so bad a life, that all the city knew of 
 it, and scorned her ; and yet, when she came to 
 Him, in the midst of a great feast, He did not send 
 her away.' 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 306 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Gro on ; did the Holy Virgin pray for her ?' 
 
 ' ]N"o, she does not seem to have been there. 
 This poor woman came through the crowd, and 
 stood weeping by Him, without even a word ; yet 
 He said that, whatever the world thought of her, 
 He forgave her, because she loved Him much.' 
 
 ' Are you sure it is true ? is it in our Bible ?' 
 
 ' Indeed it is ; ask your priest, if you like, and 
 don't forget it, Catarina !' 
 
 ' Because she loved much ! Then He loved her 
 too, for He would not let her be so wretched as to 
 love without any one loving her again. I should 
 not mind dying, if it were not for purgatory. Oh, 
 I once heard such a sermon on purgatory — it drives 
 me mad to think of it — and it must come !' said 
 the girl, shrinking down and covering her face. 
 Irene knew that she must not combat her persua- 
 sion ; it would have been useless. 
 
 ' But if Christ said to you that your sins were 
 forgiven, He could not intend you to suffer more,' 
 she°said. ' Ask Him, Catarina,' 
 
 ' I will. I can do that ! Are you going ? 
 Shall you come back ?' 
 
 1 Yes, to-morrow. I must go, I have to study 
 my part for next week.' 
 
 * You are going to take Valeria ? Oh, Irene, 
 I know Madame St. Simon has been plotting against 
 you, and her great protector Cortona will do any- 
 thing she wishes ! If they should get up a party 
 and hiss you — you don't know what it is to be 
 hissed ! I wished once that you should know, and 
 now I wonder why ! No one remembered me but 
 
 you.' 
 
 ' Thank you for letting me help you, Catarina.
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 307 
 
 Make that woman you spoke of get whatever you 
 want ; I am answerable for it. And should you 
 dislike to see Signora Olivetti ? She has the care of 
 the sick in this parish.' 
 
 Catarina had not been so brought up as to 
 shrink from obligation to strangers. The oifer 
 was gladly accepted, and Irene departed with a 
 promise of seeing Signora Olivetti, then stepping 
 across into the room of the spinner, she directed 
 her to fetch whatever her neighbour needed. 
 The woman seemed kindly disposed towards the 
 poor invalid, and drew a sad picture of her 
 wants and loneliness. ' A fortnight ago, signora, 
 she heard the family who live below me bewail- 
 ing themselves because some one had robbed 
 them, and stolen away the eldest girl's dowry, so 
 that her marriage could not take place. ~W~hen 
 the signorina heard that, down she came with five or 
 six scudi in her hand, and gave them to the girl — 
 who is now married ; and, when I asked Signorina 
 Bresca what she herself was to do — for you see 
 I knew she was poor herself — " Eh !" said she, 
 "Madonna Santa Cecilia will provide for me!" 
 Poor thing, she had not a single paul left and has 
 earned next to nothing since !' 
 
 Irene smiled and sighed as she recognised the 
 generous improvident artist-spirit. As she returned 
 kito the street, the tray of a vendor of oranges and 
 lemons caught her eye, full of freshly plucked fruit ; 
 Catarina' s desire for an orange recurred to her, 
 and she could not help buying as many as her hands 
 would hold for her. She ran upstairs again with 
 them, and poured out the fragrant golden treasures 
 on the bed. 
 
 x2
 
 308 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' Oh, Santa Vergine ! it is what I was thinking 
 of ! May she reward you, dear Irene ! ' said 
 Catarina, overjoyed, and Irene once more rejoined 
 her staid duenna below stairs, and went, escorted 
 by her, to Casa Olivetti, where she reported 
 Catarina' s case to the signora, who was one 
 of the ladies appointed by authority to look after 
 the sick and needy in that parish. There was no 
 fear now that Catarina would not be well cared 
 for, and with a lighter heart Irene returned home 
 to study Valeria. 
 
 Her pulses beat a little faster than usual — with 
 defiance however, not with fear, when she thought of 
 the Caio. She knew that Signor Mattei had been 
 strongly urged to withdraw it, and the excitement 
 and whispering at rehearsal betrayed that plots 
 and cabals were clustering thickly round the new 
 opera, which in fact had become doubly a party 
 matter ; the liberals taking it as a compliment, 
 and the anti-liberals regarding it as an insult. 
 Madame St. Simon, enraged at being set aside by 
 the manager, was bent on humiliating her young 
 rival, and all who favoured her or had a spite 
 against Irene, ranged themselves in opposition to 
 the Caio. The manager would have withdrawn it 
 at last, when he found what a violent party matter 
 it had become, had he not known that this would 
 afford an unbounded triumph to a certain theatre 
 which had been making head against him, and 
 would moreover enrage the liberal party. He did 
 all that could be done to insure success ; unusual 
 pains were taken in the getting up, and repeated 
 rehearsals drilled all the performers thoroughly 
 into their parts. All knew that the dangerous
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 309 
 
 moment would be Irene's solo with its ardent 
 apostrophe to liberty. The chances, however, were 
 strong, that her exquisite voice and finished acting 
 would carry it safely through ; and in other scenes 
 Sanzio seconded her so well in the rehearsals, that 
 Signor Mattel's courage rose high. 
 
 Great was the excitement and trepidation visible 
 among the corps dramatique on the night when the 
 Caio was to be brought out, and seldom had so 
 overflowing an audience appeared in the theatre. 
 Every box was more than full, and there was barely 
 standing-room in the pit, and heated and crushed 
 spectators exclaimed that it was bad as St. Andrea 
 when Padre Einaldi preached ! The curtain drew 
 up amid breathless expectation ; the first scene 
 was a chorus, and Irene did not appear in it ; the 
 next was a duet between her and Sanzio, and the 
 applause as she entered was vehement, but partial. 
 If she had only thought of herself, it would have 
 been very formidable to encounter the myriads of 
 curious eyes that scrutinized her from boxes and 
 pit ; but there was no shrinking or tremor in 
 Irene ; never had she looked so inspired nor so 
 lofty as when she stood, braced up by a knowledge 
 of coming peril ; and the two next scenes ended 
 amid rapturous and increasing plaudits, which 
 turned Madame St. Simon, concealed in her box, 
 yellow with jealousy and malice. But the trial point 
 came later, with the solo, which had universally 
 been fixed on as the battle ground. The address 
 to liberty alluded so plainly to the events of the 
 day, that at almost the first lines, a mingled thrill 
 of applause and discontent ran through the house. 
 A version had been prepared, greatly modified
 
 310 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 from the ultra expressions of the first draught ; 
 and this Irene had at first intended to have 
 given, but that show of discontent roused her 
 high spirit ; she accepted the challenge, rashly — 
 perhaps unjustifiably — and burst forth with all the 
 power of her rich voice into an apostrophe to 
 freedom. The denunciation of tyrants electrified 
 the audience for a moment. The next, her notes 
 were almost drowned in an uproar which shook the 
 whole theatre. Hisses, outcries, stamping, stifled 
 the applause, which was still loudly raised by all the 
 liberals present; the orchestra was totally inaudible; 
 every time the noise was lulled, it rose again wilder 
 than before; the pit was a scene of confusion inde- 
 scribable, voices and gestures let loose — a mimic 
 war. Signor Mattei appeared, and sought in vain 
 with imploring gestures to make himself heard ; the 
 chorus shrank terrified out of sight ; the contralto, 
 Emilia Orioli, was sobbing from actual alarm ; 
 Signor Sanzio stood composedly surveying the 
 tumult, and Irene, with eyes flashing light on those 
 who had insulted her, remained in the full front of 
 the stage, disdaining to retreat, and apparently 
 looking as indiffereutly on the outrageous audience 
 as the moon on all the dogs that bay at her. Sud- 
 denly, above all the uproar, a voice like a trumpet 
 called ' Shame !' and then her eyes filled with tears, 
 something seemed to choke her, she knew that 
 Leone had seen her insulted, and the cause of 
 liberty insulted in her. 
 
 So entirely hopeless was it to quell the riot, 
 that Signor Mattei ordered the curtain to fall, and 
 the company gathered behind it in the utmost 
 consternation, every one except Irene open-mouthed
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 311 
 
 with assertions, declarations, and reproaches. She 
 stood silent, her features full of scorn, making no 
 reply to the blame heaped unsparingly upon her, 
 only when Signor Sanzio said apart to her, ' I 
 told you how it would be,' she answered, ' If I 
 had stayed there all night, they should have heard 
 me at last. Signor Mattei has given them a 
 triumph.' 
 
 Signor Mattei had just settled that the curtain 
 should rise again and the prose piece begin, as if 
 the opera had been performed and ended as usual. 
 The uproar had now died out ; and, as though to 
 mark the motive of the tumult, the play was 
 received well, and the nerves of the actors ex- 
 perienced no further shocks. Irene had no more 
 to do ; and left the theatre with her maid, who was 
 waiting for her. She had not gone three steps 
 when Leone was by her side. ' My darling ! that 
 they should have dared to insult you ! they shall 
 have reason to repent this night ! Let me look 
 at you, Irene.' 
 
 She turned her face to him, now pale and tear- 
 ful. ' All say it was my own fault, Leone ; but 
 I did not feel as if they were insulting me, but 
 our cause.' 
 
 I It was the betrothed of Leone !Nota ! Oh, 
 they meant to hit more than you, and I had to 
 look on while you stood there, my own Irene ! 
 braver than all the cowards who hissed a woman 
 for praising liberty !' 
 
 I I did not care, Leone ; I was only contemptuous 
 till I heard your voice. I could not be afraid of 
 a miserable mob like that.' 
 
 1 This threatens for the future ; perhaps, Eavelli
 
 312 MADEMOISELLE MOKI. 
 
 is right, and we shall do nothing with these Pains te 
 till we fight them, and show which is the strongest. 
 The cowardly crew !' 
 
 ' I heard Kavelli's voice and dementi's, I think. 
 My farewell to this season !' 
 
 ' Tour farewell to the Eoman stage, Irene ; you 
 shall never appear there again.' 
 
 ' Don't talk of it to-night, dear Leone — I can't 
 think ; I can't judge to-night. That sea of mad- 
 men is always before my eyes. Ah, I feel now, 
 that a woman cannot step out of private life 
 without suffering for it. This will grieve Vin- 
 cenzo.' 
 
 It was Irene's first experience of the fickle- 
 ness of popular favour ; she was deeply wounded, 
 and felt keenly how bitterly Leone suffered with 
 her. It was well that the season soon ended, and 
 a change of scene gave her overwrought mind time 
 to recover its natural healthy tone. The unhappy 
 operetta was withdrawn, and for the remainder of 
 the season Madame St. Simon had it all her own 
 way. 
 
 In the meantime, Irene's leisure was divided 
 between Madame Marriotti, whose vexation at the 
 result of the Caio had brought on an attack of ill- 
 ness, and Catarina, who, the day after the failure, 
 sent to entreat Mademoiselle Mori to visit her. 
 Dispirited and worn out as Irene felt, she obeyed 
 the summons and was cheered by the effort. Cata- 
 rina' s vehement sympathy did her good, and she 
 employed herself in making arrangements for the 
 invalid's benefit during her absence. The part- 
 ing was sad, for she felt that she should never 
 see the dying girl again ; no kindness nor care
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 313 
 
 could save her, but at least her deathbed would 
 not be desolate. Catarina's last words to her 
 were, ' But for you, I should have died in the 
 street. I should have been less bad, if we had 
 met sooner. Speak kindly sometimes to Clarice 
 Monti, and tell her about me ; I think you might 
 save her, if you would.* 
 
 Irene never saw her again ; she died a few days 
 later, murmuring, in her own Neapolitan, some 
 song that she had heard as a child sung by the 
 fishermen on the blue waters that kiss the sunny 
 shores of Xaples. 
 
 The idea of going to Nettuno was given up ; 
 Madame Marriotti invited Mrs. Dalzell, Irene, 
 and Yincenzo to spend the hot months with 
 her near Florence ; and thought herself very 
 fortunate in securing them, for in many things 
 the old lady still resembled a child, she had 
 a child's love of being taken care of and con- 
 soled in any small trouble ; a solitary journey, or 
 any unusual effort, alarmed her as if she had 
 never faced public life. She had learned to rely 
 completely on Irene, whom she expected, as a 
 matter of course, to smooth everything for her, 
 and fully intended to accompany her in another 
 year to Grermany. Irene quietly said that she 
 must have time to consider this plan ; she did 
 not think it feasible, and then let the matter 
 drop. 
 
 Madame Marriotti' s villa at Florence received 
 Mrs. Dalzell, Yincenzo, and Ireue, and there 
 Irene turned her mind from theatrical affairs, and 
 rested her faculties till the recommencement of 
 the theatrical season, against which she received
 
 314 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 an offer of an engagement from the Teatro Eegio. 
 It was too good to be refused; Madame Marriotti, 
 therefore, reserved her Vienna scheme until the 
 next season, and Leone reluctantly consented to 
 Irene's reappearance at a Koman theatre.
 
 315 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 E non so, e non so, 
 Se marito prendero. 
 
 Canto Popolare. 
 
 GEMMA had not calculated the consequences 
 of making herself so agreeable to Lelio Oli- 
 vetti. She instantly felt that she had fallen into a 
 snare, when Signora Olivetti came to propose him 
 as a parti; and, as soon as she was again alone 
 with her mother, she declared, with passion, that 
 nothing should induce her to marry him ; she 
 would kill herself if it were so much as named to 
 her uncle. The poor contessa attempted no reply, 
 but speedily and secretly informed Monsignore 
 Clementi how matters stood, and he appeared in 
 awful majesty in her drawing-room, to subdue the 
 contumacious Gemma, whose conduct in refusing 
 a match so good, that (as her aunt and mother 
 both agreed) only her patron saint could have sent 
 it, was absolutely sinful in the eyes of her whole 
 family. Her redoubtable uncle did not waste 
 many words upon the sullen, anger-flushed girl 
 who stood immoveable before him, not even seem- 
 ing to hear that he addressed her, as he gave her 
 the choice of marriage or a convent. This last alter- 
 native would have divided her too hopelessly from 
 Uavelli, and at last she spoke, to declare that, if he 
 attempted to send her to a convent, she would
 
 316 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 resist till every one in the palace came to see what 
 was the cause of the uproar. There could be no 
 doubt she would keep her word, and Mousignore 
 Clementi actually changed colour at the idea of 
 such a scandal ; but he only appointed a certain 
 time in which she was to make up her mind ; and 
 then withdrew, leaving her under the ban of his 
 displeasure. 
 
 Thenceforward began the combat between Gem- 
 ma and her family, who all carefully followed out 
 a course of conduct prescribed by Monsignore 
 Clementi. There was neither remonstrance nor 
 reproach, but she was treated as a disgrace to 
 her house, and unworthy of notice. If she spoke, 
 she got no answer ; no one ever addressed her ; 
 if a visitor entered, she was dismissed ; she found 
 exactly the same manner observed to her by her 
 aunt and uncle,, as by her mother; and visits to, 
 and with, this aunt had in former days been 
 Gemma's one variety and relief. The man-servant 
 was changed ; perhaps Clementi had divined that 
 he was a go-between of Gemma and Ravelli ; she 
 saw no one but her relatives. A better plan for 
 exasperating a violent temper could hardly have 
 been devised. She burst into wild passions, im- 
 plored, threatened, and met only silence and pas- 
 sive indifference. Her mother, indeed, would 
 tremble and grow pale, but she obeyed her for- 
 midable brother-in-law's instructions to the letter, 
 and took no notice of Gemma's outbreaks. Then 
 Gemma threatened to starve herself, and did not 
 eat for a day and a half — no one seemed to per- 
 ceive it. She besought her aunt to have pity on 
 her, and was answered by reproachful shakes of 
 the head. She spent whole days in her room, but
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 317 
 
 no one called her from morning to night. Her 
 condition was becoming intolerable ; she felt that 
 there was only one way of ending it, and of seeing 
 Eavelli once more, since she was never allowed to 
 leave her apartments, and in the absence of her 
 brother and of the Mori, Luigi had no excuse for 
 frequenting the palace. 
 
 The count was at Eavenna. He had studiously 
 held aloof from the whole affair ; since it would have 
 been inconsistent with his profession of ultra-liberal 
 politics to promote his sister's marriage with a vehe- 
 ment Pajpista; nor could even such important family 
 matters bring his uncle and himself together, so 
 wide was the apparent rupture between them. He 
 thought all communication cut off between Gemma 
 and him whom she preferred, since Irene was at 
 Florence, and Eavelli was fully occupied in survey- 
 ing for a proposed railroad from Civita Yecchia. 
 
 The Olivetti family had gone for a short time 
 into the country ; but monsignore had pledged 
 himself to give a speedy and decisive answer to 
 Lelio. "When next he summoned Gemma before 
 him, she consented to the marriage. 
 
 It was nothing but a glimpse of Luigi Eavelli 
 that had brought her to this. 
 
 One evening, as she leant wearily at her window, 
 high above the street, she had seen him pass, and 
 had been seized with such a longing to hear his 
 voice, to meet him again, that she thought only 
 how to purchase a moment of his presence. She 
 knew that he and his family would be invited to 
 assist at the CapitoU,a.$ the legal ceremony is called, 
 — a part of a marriage distinct from the religious 
 ceremony, and performed at the bride's own house. 
 And thus she gave her word.
 
 318 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 Monsignore Clementi gave her his benedic- 
 tion and dismissed her, while he announced her 
 consent to the rest of the family. Gemma 
 flew back to her room, pursued by a little grey- 
 hound, a gift nominally to the countess from 
 Eavelli. She bolted her door, wrote a few lines 
 on a sheet of paper, and waited at her window. 
 A new idea struck her all at once ; she fastened 
 the note to the collar of the little dog, opened her 
 window, and waited again. It was a perilous 
 height above the street. So much the worse for 
 the greyhound; for as a figure passed in the dusk 
 which she recognised as that of Eavelli, she slid 
 the slender little creature through the bars and 
 dropped it without a moment's hesitation. It fell 
 like a feather, and the eager eyes above saw it 
 spring up, shake itself, and run after its old 
 master, who feeling two little paws strike his 
 knee, looked down and saw his former pet. He 
 was delighted at having a good reason for calling 
 in Palazzo Clementi, stooped down to stroke the 
 little creature, and perceived the note. A presen- 
 timent of evil struck him ; he opened it beneath a 
 lamp which burnt before a picture of the Virgin — 
 read — and dashed towards Palazzo Clementi. He 
 was half way up the stairs before he recollected 
 that Count Clementi was at Eavenna. He could 
 only ring and restore the greyhound, and was told 
 that the countess saw no one that evening. There 
 was nothing to be done, but wait, like Gemma, for 
 that last interview. 
 
 When relations have consented, marriage comes 
 quickly on betrothal in Eome. Almost before 
 Gemma had realized that consent had been wrung
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 319 
 
 from her the contract was prepared, and Signor 
 Lelio acknowledged as her husband elect. He 
 came immediately to Home, whither the Olivetti 
 family had now returned, and appeared almost 
 every evening in Palazzo Clementi, where he as- 
 suredly did not find Gemma as agreeable as at 
 their first meeting ; but he was blind and deaf to 
 her slights and rebuffs ; her uncle had promised 
 her to him, and he never thought of asking what 
 her own sentiments might be. Count Clementi 
 took good care that, in the midst of the family 
 favour which now shone upon Gemma, she should 
 be as closely watched as before, and entirely re- 
 jected the offer of Lelio to live in Eome, should 
 his future wife desire it. There were few things 
 that he wished more than to see her safely mar- 
 ried and gone. So closely was she watched that 
 she could never slip a note into the trunk of the 
 old orange tree, and she only went out with her 
 mother to invite the guests for the evening of the 
 Capitoli. 
 
 Signor Lelio was in a state of felicity inde- 
 scribable, when he thought of the aristocratic 
 alliance he was about to make ; he spent fabulous 
 sums on presents for his bride, and did not fail 
 to tell every one how much they cost. He ap- 
 peared first at one circolo and then another, mak- 
 ing speeches which excited mingled laughter and 
 wrath ; he was always seizing on some reluctant 
 acquaintance to pour out his tale of bliss to him. 
 Signora Olivetti knew beforehand that she must 
 listen to him for an hour at least whenever he 
 could find her ; and in short, he strutted about 
 so glorious and so elated that he furnished amuse-
 
 320 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ment in half the salons of Eome. And all the 
 time he was dogged by a black shadow of ven- 
 geance which had long sought after him, and had 
 tracked him at last, but hitherto never alone. 
 Some idea that he was watched by an enemy 
 crossed his mind, and he suggested it to his 
 cousin, Signor Olivetti, who took it as a further 
 proof of Lelio's self-importance, and laughed at 
 him, with the assurance that his life mattered 
 to nobody but himself; but Lelio felt himself a 
 person of importance ; he puffed with injured 
 dignity, and turned with his suspicions to the 
 signora, who thought of Eavelli, then was angry 
 with herself, but bade Lelio never go about alone, 
 especially at night — advice which he was delighted 
 to take, and his fears of assassination added a 
 fresh jest to the many already circulating con- 
 cerning him; though murders were not uncommon, 
 and the laughter at LehVs alarms was apt to die 
 away into stories of stabbing, of murdered men 
 found lying at their own doors staining the steps 
 with their heart's blood, of priests poniarded for 
 having refused absolution ; but these were mostly 
 rumours from the provinces, though such things 
 did happen in Eome itself. 
 
 The evening of the Capitoli came, and there was 
 a reception in the contessa's apartment ; the cus- 
 tomary rinfresco, or banquet, was offered ; for the 
 family had made a great effort to keep up appear- 
 ances on this occasion; the wedding gifts were 
 arranged conspicuously, and friends and relations 
 beo-an to pour in. Among them were all the 
 Eavelli family ; G-emma never looked towards 
 Luigi as he entered, but she saw, nevertheless, 
 that his eyes were upon her, and read wonder,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 321 
 
 reproach, and misery in his glance. Dressed in 
 white, with a white rose fastened on her boddice, 
 she stood near the future husband, accepting the 
 congratulations offered to her ; Clementi was near, 
 her uncle close by ; she was environed ; she felt 
 that one of the passionate scenes she had lately 
 wasted on them would be worse than useless now, 
 and seemed so self-possessed and calm that they 
 breathed more freely ; for Monsignore Clementi 
 himself felt a little afraid of his niece's temper, 
 and as for the contessa — she had suffered a mar- 
 tyrdom during the visits she had been obliged to 
 make with GJ-emma to invite the guests, expecting 
 every moment an outbreak. But then, as now, 
 the girl only maintained her lowering look, with- 
 out any manifestation of resistance, and she al- 
 lowed Lelio to talk to her incessantly, as cus- 
 tom permitted him on this evening ; yet her eye 
 glanced on him sometimes as if she could have 
 struck the exultant coxcomb who paraded his 
 rights so ostentatiously, and called every one's 
 attention so anxiously to the wedding presents, 
 amongst which were conspicuous the diamonds 
 presented by himself, — necklace, ring, and earrings 
 complete. Once or twice she looked from him to 
 Bavelli, as if comparing them, but he made no at- 
 tempt to approach her. The notary and his clerk 
 arrived, and there was an instantaneous hush as 
 the assembly gathered together to hear the con- 
 tract read aloud, with its stipulations concerning 
 residence, villeggiatura, and twenty scudi a month, 
 per le spille, otherwise pin-money. The bride's 
 dowry, a very small one, was handed over in gold 
 in a white pocket-handkerchief to the bridegroom, 
 who affixed his name to the contract ; the bride 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 322 MADEMOISELLE MOKI. 
 
 also signed, as did her mother. The religious 
 ceremony was not to take place till a week later. 
 This important matter being accomplished, there 
 was a general move, a tendency to collect round 
 the ices, creams, and liqueurs; Eavelli found an 
 opportunity of standing beside Gemma, who was 
 comparatively unwatched, and whispered a few im- 
 petuous words in her ear. 
 
 ' I was driven to it, but I shall never see the 
 inside of a church with him ; if you cannot make 
 some plan before this day week, I will escape 
 without you.' 
 
 Their eyes met ; he saw she meant what she 
 said. 
 
 ' Well, there is only one way — let him look to 
 it/ muttered Eavelli, and he drew back ; but his 
 eye turned on Olivetti with an expression that 
 had something deadly in it. When the party 
 broke up, Eavelli went out at the same moment 
 with Olivetti ; a moment before there had been 
 some words exchanged between them, first cour- 
 teous on the part of the latter, who, in the 
 plenitude of his happiness, was inclined to pa- 
 tronize even Eavelli, but the next instant they 
 became angry, defiant. It all passed in an instant, 
 and no one observed it but Gemma. There 
 was a general laughing offer among Lelio's ac- 
 quaintances to wait and escort him, which he 
 declined with great dignity, and departed to his 
 apartment at no great distance from the palace. 
 
 Gemma's manner was so much less sullen than 
 it had been for weeks, when she bade her family 
 good night, that her uncle praised her, and said, 
 turning to his nephew, as soon as she was gone, 
 ' Take care, she has some plan brewing to-night.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 323 
 
 1 There is no fear now,' said the count, ' but I 
 shall watch her/ 
 
 ' Never trust a woman, especially if she speaks 
 you soft, my nephew ; it is a still stream that 
 ruins the bridges, and you know "women have 
 seven spirits in their bodies/' A happy night, 
 my dear sister-in-law ; nay, nay, nay' — withdraw- 
 ing his hand as she stooped to kiss it — ' do not 
 think of it ! Adieu, nephew;' and he spoke with 
 a cordiality which would rather have surprised the 
 guests, had they still been present ; for amougst the 
 little bits of scandal which all had carried away 
 with them, was the exceeding coldness evident 
 between uncle and nephew, and much was whis- 
 pered concerning the young count's folly or 
 patriotism, according to the politics of the speakers, 
 in sacrificing his chances of fortune from his 
 uncle. 
 
 Monsignore Clementi had over-shot the mark 
 when he declared that his niece had a plan for 
 this night, but he did not guess amiss in believing 
 that there was something hidden under that con- 
 trolled demeanour, which, like the turbid river, 
 allowed nothing beneath to be seen. She leant 
 her forehead against her window hour after hour, 
 expecting nothing yet everything ; her heart beat 
 almost audibly in the silence ; a little lamp 
 burnt on the table, illuminating the crucifix 
 and a picture of the Virgin on the wall. Above 
 her pillow was a cup for holy water, and one of 
 the blessed palms, brought a few Sundays before 
 from St. Peter's ; all in the chamber seemed pure 
 and innocent, as if aught else would have been 
 misplaced in such a sanctuary. But what were the 
 thoughts that surged in Gemma's breast ? Flight, 
 
 t2
 
 324 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 disgrace, was before her, or escape by means which 
 involved cowardly crime in the one whom she 
 loved ! She only waited to choose between them. 
 If seven spirits really haunted her, they must have 
 been very evil ones ; a good angel must have 
 turned aside, and hidden his face from the look on 
 hers, as she watched the clouds fly over the moon 
 before the sirocco that swept through the streets 
 and shook every door and shutter in the old 
 palace that night. Perhaps a consciousness of 
 evil visited her mind ; for, starting suddenly up, 
 she flung her handkerchief over the picture of the 
 Madonna, and then went back to her excited yet 
 purposeless watch. 
 
 Another kept ward for long hours ; namely, 
 Clementi, who, though he had the key of the 
 outer-door in his own possession, trusted Gemma 
 so little that he wished to be secure she did not 
 leave her room that night. He had marked the 
 whisper between her and Ravelli, but the look of 
 Ravelli was not that of a man with a scheme 
 promising success. Still, as he muttered to him- 
 self, while ensconced in an arm-chair, he listened 
 warily, ' With each man be on your guard, but four 
 times as much with a friend ; as for Gremma, La 
 donna ne sa un punto piu del diavolo. There is 
 but one v^man in the world whom I could trust, 
 and she is but half a Roman !' and once more he 
 calculated his chances of winning Irene's heart, 
 and how soon he could dismiss Leone from the 
 scene. He surveyed the tangled web of the 
 present, and that still more tangled of the pro- 
 bable future, of which each new day revealed a 
 portion, and thought long on the predictions of 
 his sagacious and far-sighted uncle, one of the
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 325 
 
 few priests who did not look with horror and dis- 
 may on the aspect of public affairs, and prophesied 
 that all would turn out well for him and his col- 
 leagues. Count Clementi was, at heart, supremely 
 indifferent as to which party might eventually suc- 
 ceed, except that he looked for some pecuniary 
 advantage from his uncle's good fortune, and had 
 felt as indignant as Monsignore Clementi himself, 
 that all hopes of a cardinal's hat seemed dead with 
 Gregorio XVI. The whole family had looked for- 
 ward to debts being paid, and their fallen fortues 
 rising with this event, which, though extremely 
 costly to the new dignitary at the time, is very 
 lucrative in the end. 
 
 Convinced at last that Gemma was resigned to 
 her destiny, he gave up his vigil and went to bed, 
 whence he did not emerge till towards luncheon 
 time next day. The contessa had been so 
 wearied by the unusual excitement of the evening 
 before, that she too was unusually late, and did 
 not appear till her son and daughter were about 
 to begin their simple meal, which to-day was 
 augmented by fragments of the rinfresco. Con- 
 tessa Clementi could speak of nothing but the 
 contract and wedding presents, especially Signora 
 Olivetti's — ' a shawl, which must have cost at least 
 a hundred scudi V 
 
 1 1 told you, Gemma, she would give you some- 
 thing handsome ; and, really that emerald brooch 
 that Signora Ravelli brought you, was magnificent ; 
 those people like to give something superb, to 
 show off their wealth a little ; they are all rich — 
 it is only the real old noble families that con- 
 descend to be poor. The English, who are all 
 merchants, ^re as rich as emperors. If we had
 
 326 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 been commoners, your brother would have made 
 a fortune in some profession ; but, as we were 
 noble, I could not let him degrade himself; and 
 he could not be an ecclesiastic, for he is the last 
 of the Clementi, and Antonio has no children.' 
 
 ' Oh, Count Arrigo has taken an imjpiegoj said 
 Gremma, impatiently. 
 
 ' Oh, Count Arrigo, they are mere parvenus 
 compared to us ; I have heard that there was one 
 of our family in the time of some Roman Emperor — 
 Julius Caesar, I think it was — there is no family 
 older than ours, Gemma. I wish Signor Lelio 
 were noble ; but then you had no dowry. In my 
 time, however, girls of rank never married at all 
 unless their parents met with a husband of equal 
 rank for them; it would have been a disgrace. But 
 all that seems changed now. I can't think what 
 is to be the end of all these new ideas, and how, 
 Pietrucchio, you can take them up is incompre- 
 hensible to me.' 
 
 ' It is the only way left for me to make my 
 fortune, mamma mia,' said Clementi, with the 
 playful and caressing tone in which he usually 
 addressed his mother, and she smiled and said, 
 ' You are a good boy, Pietrucchio — where are you 
 going now ?' 
 
 ' I was thinking of looking for Olivetti ; a friend 
 of mine proposed a boar-hunt for next week, and 
 I daresay Lelio will join us, and be delighted to 
 set us all to rights.' 
 
 ' A boar-hunt ? it is not the season.' 
 
 ' There is more or less of it all the year round ; 
 I saw four boars with magnificent tusks in a shop 
 near the Pantheon yesterday, and all the people 
 were looking at them.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORT. 327 
 
 1 But if you go out I shall have nobody but 
 Gemma. Signor Lelio might come here, I think ; 
 he might wait till after marriage to be so ungallant.' 
 
 ' I will stay, mamma. Close that shutter, 
 Gemma, the sun dazzles her.' 
 
 1 Tou are always thoughtful, Pietrucchio mio ; 
 sons are more comfort than daughters. I wish 
 you would marry some rich girl, and then we could 
 all live together, and pay on our debts. It is a 
 great thing to have Gemma provided for.' 
 
 ' I wonder why daughters are born, since all 
 that their parents wish is to get rid of them,' 
 said Gemma, in a voice where acute pain and re- 
 sentment were mingled together. * Tou are happy 
 now, mamma ; it is the first time you ever were 
 pleased where I was concerned.' 
 
 ' Now, Gemma, that is one of your perverse 
 fancies ; pray, pray don't get into one of those 
 dreadful tempers ! I wish to see you well married 
 of course, since you have no vocation for the 
 convent. Pietrucchio !' said the contessa, implor- 
 ingly, as if bespeaking his protection from Gemma. 
 
 - You need not be afraid, mamma — you will not 
 be burdened with me long, any way,' said Gemma, 
 sitting down at some distance. The contessa 
 looked so nervous and shaken that Clementi, who 
 never interfered betwten her and Gemma, set him- 
 self to compose her, and introduced a subject that 
 never failed to interest her — namely, the lottery. 
 1 1 had no time to tell you yesterday, dear mother, 
 but imagine what a friend of mine has done. 
 His sisters all dreamed of the same number. The 
 eldest one night, the second on the next night, the 
 third on the following one. Of course they felt it 
 was an advertisement from Heaven ; they told
 
 328 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 their brother, who has no faith in these things. He 
 is a sad sceptic indeed, and laughed at them, but 
 promised to take the number for them. Alas ! 
 he forgot entirely, and it has just been announced 
 to be the winning number !' 
 
 1 See that !' exclaimed the contessa ; * I call that 
 a warning from Heaven to him !' 
 
 ' What do you want, Filippo ?' asked Gemma 
 of the servant, who stood at the door making signs 
 unperceived to the count. ' Come in.' 
 
 1 What is it ? Why does he not speak ? Make 
 him tell us, Pietrucchio — I must know — ' said 
 the contessa, greatly alarmed by this mysterious 
 pantomime, and Clementi said sharply, ' Come in, 
 and say whatever it is at once, stupid fellow/ 
 
 The man advanced with looks full of horror. 
 * He's dead, signor ; they have murdered him !' 
 
 1 Olivetti !' exclaimed Gemma. 
 
 ' Si, signorina, si; he has been found with a knife 
 in his heart — he is dead and cold !' 
 
 1 Asino ! hold your tongue, you will kill my 
 mother !' cried Clementi, as the contessa gasped 
 out some unintelligible words, and sank back 
 insensible. ' She's dyiug — here, scents, water — 
 Gemma, help her !' 
 
 Gemma was the only one who had not lost all 
 self-possession. Her hand indeed trembled so 
 that she could not open the scent-bottle, but she 
 remembered where it was, and fetched water 
 instantly, and her mother slowly revived, and 
 looked vacantly round as if trying to remember 
 what had caused her swoon. Clementi leant over 
 her, terrified out of his senses at the sudden 
 attack. ' There, there, you are better now, 
 darling mother ; there's nothing wrong — speak to
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 329 
 
 me — I am here. Pietrucchio is with you, mamma 
 miaV 
 
 1 Why don't you give her air ? Don't hang 
 over her in that way,' said Gemma, in tones 
 strangely harsh and forced, as she opened a window 
 wide. ' Do stand back, Pietrucchio ; she can't 
 breathe. Mamma, you can go to your room now — 
 let me help you.' 
 
 ' Pietrucchio, Pietrucchio,' whispered the con- 
 tessa, shrinking against him, while he held her 
 hand and called her by every caressing name ; 
 ' are you there ? what has happened ? who did 
 Pilippo say was killed ? Tell me.' 
 
 1 It is some lie about a murder ; one hears a 
 dozen like tales every day — I don't believe a 
 word of it, mamma fluff*' 
 
 ' Signor Conte, it is true,' cried Filippo. ' I 
 saw the poor dear signor' s valet only just now. 
 The people speak of nothing else ; the street was 
 full all the morning of crowds come to see where he 
 was found lying. He was stabbed in the Eipetta ; 
 I saw a crowd there when I was out just now 
 going to the market ; so I turned down to see, 
 and a woman cried out that it was a friend of the 
 Olivetti who had been murdered, and I went to 
 the poor signor' s lodgings and heard it was he 
 from Enrico. Signor Olivetti has gone to Eocca 
 di Passa, but they have sent to tell him. Some 
 say it was for politics, and some that an old enemy 
 had him murdered.' 
 
 During this speech the contessa gradually under- 
 stood what had happened, and clasping her hands, 
 exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin! who can have done this ? 
 Oh, Gemma, unhappy child ! it is worse than the 
 marchese.'
 
 330 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' You see it is dangerous to ask me in marriage, 
 mamma,' replied Gemma ; ' but there are the wed- 
 ding presents to comfort you.' 
 
 ' Sangue delta Madonna I ' ejaculated Filippo, 
 staring at his young mistress ; ' she will not break 
 her heart for Signor Lelio apparently ! ' 
 
 ' Let me take you to your room, dearest mother; 
 Filippo shall tell my aunt — go and tell her, Filippo,' 
 said dementi, putting his arm round his mother, 
 and almost carrying her away. Her feeble lamen- 
 tations were soon lost in the distance ; Gemma 
 remained alone, with a strange look on her face — 
 horror, revenge, triumph mixed together. Her 
 hand closed as if on an imaginary dagger, the 
 scene appeared passing before her ; she did not 
 flinch when Clementi returned and asked abruptly, 
 1 How did you know who was murdered ?' 
 
 ' It was natural I should think immediately of 
 Signor Lelio.' 
 
 ' Are you a fool, to suppose that pretext will 
 take me in ?' 
 
 ' Not at all, Pietrucchio ; I did not say I feared 
 it was he.' 
 
 ' Gemma ! you knew of this ! ' 
 
 ' No, I did not,' she answered, without shrink- 
 ing from the grasp in which he held her arm ; 
 ' No, I did not,' she repeated, and her eyes met 
 his so steadily that his belief in her complicity 
 was shaken, and he released her. She silently 
 raised her sleeve, and showed her wrist bruised by 
 his violence. He winced — no man would hurt a 
 woman in cold blood, and she took the advantage 
 he had given her. ' I know nothing about it, 
 Pietrucchio, I tell you; I cannot be sorry, but I 
 am not a murderess.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 331 
 
 ' If you were, it would be little use to find it 
 out now,' muttered Cleinenti ; ' I believe devoutly 
 that you are capable of it. Of course you wont 
 say if you suspect any one r' 
 
 ' Take care whom you suspect, Pietrucchio, if 
 ever you mean to see Irene's face again,' 
 
 1 Serpent that you are ! and idiot that I was to 
 let you worm yourself into my confidence,' said 
 Clementi, through his set teeth ; ' it will come to 
 open war between us ; but I must wait awhile I 
 suppose.' 
 
 Frequent as assassinations had become under the 
 late reigns, this murder in Home itself, and of a 
 man well connected, and inoffensive except from 
 his absurd vanity, was so startling that there was 
 a great sensation throughout the city, and unusual 
 efforts were made to discover the criminal. The 
 elder Olivetti offered large rewards ; the police 
 arrested several persons on suspicion ; but after a 
 tedious examination they were released, as nothing 
 could be proved against them. The only thing 
 that could serve as a clue was a Trasteverine knife, 
 which was found stained with blood near the 
 corpse, and confirmed at once a suspicion that had 
 speedily suggested itself to Clementi, who did not 
 after the first moment believe E-avelli the author 
 of the deed, though his suspicions were again 
 strongly roused by Gemma's evident belief in 
 Bavelli's guilt, and his own strange manner, so 
 unlike his usual one that all remarked it. But if 
 Lelio Olivetti had offended one of the unforget- 
 ting, unforgiving Trasteverini, his death was ac- 
 counted for; and Clementi having made up his 
 mind that one of the basso ceto, or populace, was 
 the criminal, was satisfied, and let the matter drop
 
 332 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 without expressing his private opinion. It suited 
 him well that the deed should be laid to the door 
 of the liberal party, who were supposed to be 
 offended by Lelio's obtrusive Austrian tendencies; 
 and absurd as the rumour was, it floated far and 
 wide, and gained credence in Roman society, always 
 eager to seize on any gossip, whether it be how 
 a priest sang mass well or ill, or that a man beat 
 his wife in the Trastevere.
 
 333 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Happy is he who loves companionship, 
 
 And lights on thee, Luigi ; 
 
 Thy locks jet black, and clustering round a face 
 
 Open as day and full of manly daring; 
 
 Thou hadst a heart, a hand for all that came — 
 
 Mishap passed o'er thee as a summer cloud. 
 
 ROQEES. 
 
 IT could be no trifle that made Luigi Eavelli's 
 gloom so lasting, and Count Clementi silently 
 sought to discover the cause, and with this object 
 allowed him several opportunities for conversation 
 with G-emma, taking care to be within earshot. 
 Xature had given him the acute eye and ear of a 
 savage ; he seemed to hear and see whatever he 
 wished at any distance, but he listened in vain, 
 and Eavelli seemed reluctant to meet G-emma. 
 He could not, however, refuse an invitation one 
 evening to return home from the Circolo with Cle- 
 menti, and the old spell presently drew him, in spite 
 of himself, to Gemma's side. Clementi was playing 
 at cards with his mother, who did not catch a sound 
 from the other two ; yet he heard G-emma speak 
 as plainly as if he had been by her side. He threw 
 new animation into his play, and said something 
 which made the contessa laugh heartily ; but his 
 ear was intent on the whisper at the other end of 
 the room, as Eavelli examined' G-emma' s work and 
 stooped to pick up her fallen silk. ' Eeally, Luigi,
 
 334 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 no one has been so much afflicted by Olivetti's 
 death as yourself ! How long do you mean to wear 
 mourning for him ? You seem quite inconsolable. 
 I think, if I can bear his loss, you might ! Now 
 do tell me, did you know anything about it ?' 
 
 She spoke very low, and glanced towards the 
 card-table. ' Come, tell me, Luigi,' she persevered, 
 reassured by the attention paid by the players to 
 their game. 
 
 ' What do you mean ?' demanded Eavelli, as low, 
 but so angrily, that a less audacious spirit than hers 
 would have retracted in haste. Not so Gemma. 
 
 ' Why ! Do you mean that he disappeared, so 
 very opportunely, by chance ?' 
 
 ' Do you mean that you take me for an assassin, 
 Gemma ?' 
 
 ' I don't take you for anything shocking ; I only 
 want to know why you go about looking as doleful 
 as a death's-head.' 
 
 ' You hold life lightly,' said Eavelli, looking 
 down on her almost with repugnance. ' You knew 
 this man, you consented to marry him ; he is 
 murdered almost at your door, and you are less 
 moved than if your canary-bird had died !' 
 
 ' I hated that man,' she answered hastily, her 
 face changing from its mocking smile into fierce 
 earnestness. ' I would have thanked anybody who 
 had poisoned him or me that night ! You need 
 not taunt me with having consented to marry him ; 
 it was only that I might see you again — you know 
 I should have fled to the world's end before he 
 called me his wife. I thought you took the only 
 means left to deliver me from him.' 
 
 'You really believed that I murdered Lelio 
 Olivetti ?' 
 
 ' I saw you exchange not very amicable words
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 335 
 
 with him, and next morning he is found dead,' 
 she answered, amazed at the manner in which he 
 repelled her accusation. ' I was miserable enough, 
 I am sure, for if any one else had noticed the 
 quarrel, they must have suspected you — how could 
 you be so rash, Luigi ?' 
 
 He turned from her with a look, as if she, whom 
 he had thought so fair, had turned into a serpent 
 before his eyes. She saw, and rising, stepped 
 before him. ' What do you mean ? What have 
 I said ? Tell me what you are thinking of.' 
 
 ' I think — why I think that I know you better 
 than I did — and so — addio, contessina.' 
 
 1 Are you mad ? What is it, Luigi ?' 
 
 He would not take the hand put out to stop 
 him, but passed impetuously by, and the contessa, 
 awakening to the fact that her daughter was almost 
 tete-a-tete with a young man, called her to come 
 nearer the light. 
 
 ' What were you telling Gemma, signor?' 
 
 I was saying adieu, Signora Contessa; I am 
 obliged to go.' 
 
 ' Already ? My salutations to your mother, 
 and Signora Olivetti, when you see her. I suppose 
 you are going there. A rivedervi, signor. Pie- 
 trucchio, I have won a paul — no, two ; what good 
 fortune ! and a grosso !' 
 
 Clementi rose to accompany his friend to the 
 door, and bid him an affectionate good night. 
 Gemma never looked up till Eavelli was at the 
 door — then she lifted her eyes and met his — 
 their expression stung her intolerably. She sat 
 reflecting on what had passed, and wondering 
 what had happened to him, and Contessa Clementi 
 pursued her game with the remark, ' Something 
 must have gone wrong with young Eavelli — he
 
 336 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 looked perfectly louleverse. Pietrucchio, it is you 
 to play.' 
 
 Eavelli had no thoughts of going to Casa 
 Olivetti that night. He wandered towards St. 
 Angelo, and leant upon the parapet of the bridge, 
 watching, without knowing that he did so, the tawny 
 water flow beneath, eddying against the piles, and 
 breaking the reflections from the lamps near into 
 long shimmering trails of light. A red star was 
 rising against the most distant houses, whose line, 
 dark and indistinct, followed the bend of the shore. 
 One or two boats passed under the bridge with a 
 couple of dark figures in each, doubtless fishermen ; 
 a light burnt afar in a window over the river, as 
 if some Hero kept watch for a Leander. Great 
 fleecy clouds almost hid the moon, which never- 
 theless at intervals came out into the clear and 
 tender blue of the sky ; the night was perfect in 
 its southern beauty, tranquil, refreshing, bringing 
 rest and calm after the labour and heat of the day. 
 Its breeze blew cool on the brow which Luigi 
 bared to it, but the fevered thoughts that rushed 
 through his mind required a mightier magic than 
 any sweet hour of the night possessed, to quiet 
 them. After long meditation, he uttered an 
 audible exclamation, and starting upright, walked 
 away without a glance at the peaceful scene around 
 him. 
 
 Luigi shunned Palazzo Clementi and Casa 
 Olivetti alike for some days, until his father en- 
 trusted him with some business to transact with 
 Signor Olivetti, which obliged him to visit the 
 latter house. He would rather have gone ten 
 miles in another direction, and wished himself 
 making measurements at Civita, Vecchia, though
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 337 
 
 under the hottest sun of the dog-days, rather than 
 at Casa Olivetti ; but it was not worth a quar- 
 rel with old Signor Eavelli, and he went. Signor 
 Olivetti was out, and he had to await his return ; 
 the salotto was unoccupied; Luigi gave himself 
 up undisturbed to thoughts of no very cheering 
 kind, and even his attitude showed his dejection. 
 The opening of the door roused him ; Imelda 
 looked in, coloured on seeing who was there, and 
 was about to withdraw with a timid ' I beg your 
 pardon;' but she had observed his melancholy, 
 and instead of going, came in, and lingered to 
 hear if he were going to say anything to her. 
 His betrothed was the last person whom Luigi 
 wished to see, but a glance at her, as she stood 
 before him with her serious, child-like grace, 
 banished his perceptible vexation, and he said, 
 1 1 am waiting for your father, but nothing is to 
 be seen of him.' 
 
 'He will very soon be at home; Cardinal Torquati 
 sent for him this morning. Mamma is taking 
 her siesta,' said Imelda, conscious that every rule 
 of etiquette bade her go, but detained by a 
 stronger feeling. Luigi made some remark about 
 the heat, to which she returned an answer with- 
 out knowing what she said ; then, taking her 
 courage by both hands, as it were, asked — ' Luigi, 
 is anything the matter ?' 
 
 ' What should be the matter ?' he answered, 
 much surprised. 
 
 She looked up at him with her soft wistful eyes, 
 as if to say that she felt that something was wrong. 
 Eavelli said, abruptly, ' Imelda, you are the last 
 person whom I should like for a confessor — you 
 would understand a sin too little to forgive it.' 
 
 VOL. I. Z
 
 338 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 ' But unless it were against me I should have 
 to sympathize, not forgive,' said Imelda, encou- 
 raged. 
 
 ' As if you could sympathize with a crime — 
 you little white dove, who wonder why crows are 
 black! — I am not thinking of a trifle, such as a 
 hasty word, but of crimes ; do you know what a 
 crime is ? murder, for instance.' 
 
 ' Oh, Luigi ! but after all it would be the per- 
 son, not the crime that I should sympathize with. 
 Surely no one could want comfort so much as a 
 man who had done such a dreadful thing as a 
 murder ? he would be so unhappy !' 
 
 ' Tou are right,' said Eavelli, absently ; but re- 
 collecting what he was saying, he thought he saw 
 her start — ' Don't be alarmed, I am not speaking 
 of myself.' 
 
 .* JNo,' said Imelda, with a little light laugh at the 
 idea that he could have supposed that she thought so. 
 
 ' Tou think it impossible for me to commit such 
 a crime ? for any one ?' 
 
 * It has been done,' said Imelda, low and 
 shrinkingly, as she glanced at her mourning dress. 
 
 ' Aye. Suppose I could tell you who did that 
 deed — or suppose you were told that I did it, 
 on the best authority ? what then ?' 
 
 He seemed quite serious ; Imelda answered, 
 wonderingly, ' I should not believe it — ' and then, 
 gaining fresh courage from feeling that she was 
 becoming his confidante, ' not if you told me so 
 yourself.' 
 
 "Was it that sympathy always had irresistible 
 charms for Luigi, or that he sought to get rid of 
 the depression so foreign to his nature by any means 
 — even by confiding in Imelda ? Probably both,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 339 
 
 for tie exclaimed, ' Imelda, Imelda, you don't know 
 what you are saying — you fancy all the world 
 as peaceful as your own home — what would you 
 think of man's life if you knew a tithe of it ? 
 Why I — now you stand by me you look at me 
 as if you belieyed me as innocent as yourself — what 
 would you say if I told you that a fortnight ago 
 there was a man whom I hated, so that I had 
 resolyed that he or I should visit Purgatory before 
 another day was out. Never mind who he was — 
 no, I may as well tell you — your cousin, Lelio. 
 If I did not murder him, I let him be murdered 
 — there is little difference. There ! you turn pale 
 and shrink away — I knew how it would be !' 
 
 1 It is so horrible to think of his death,' said 
 Imelda, shuddering, but still remaining by Ea- 
 velli's side. ' How could you have anything to do 
 with his death ? he was stabbed.' 
 
 1 Well, what reason is that ?' 
 
 1 He was assassinated,' repeated Imelda. 
 
 ' Ah ! I understand,' said Kavelli, with a look of 
 satisfaction ; ' you mean I should have tried fair 
 fight. True — you know me better than some, whom 
 I expected to trust me. Listen, I'll tell you how 
 it was. That night — when — when — he was mur- 
 dered — before we left the palazzo — he asked me to 
 walk home with him — the old story, he fancied he 
 was dogged by some one. I only wanted an ex- 
 cuse for a quarrel; I insulted him, told him he 
 was a coward : when one man says that to another 
 you know what comes of it. We had not much 
 to settle after that ; we went downstairs together, 
 settled time and place, and parted. I had not 
 gone a hundred yards when I heard a shout for 
 help — turned back — there was a minute's scuffle 
 
 z 2
 
 340 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 between two people down the street — one fell, 
 the other made off at full speed — I after him — 
 I caught him before he reached a vicolo he was 
 making for ; he had dropped his knife, so it was 
 fair fight between us ; we wrestled together — 
 I got him down at last, and saw his face ; he was 
 a Trasteverine — I knew him — it was the father 
 of the boy whom Lelio struck in Yilla Borghese. 
 You had not heard of it ? that was the motive ; 
 a Trasteverine never thiuks a blow can be wiped 
 out without blood. I knew that — and — let him 
 go. I suppose I ought to have had him executed; 
 and whether I let him escape because Lelio was 
 my enemy, or because the way he treated that lad 
 was so brutal, is more than I know. I went back 
 to your cousin — he was quite dead ; there was no- 
 thing to be done. "When I found that, I began to 
 think it might be a case of beheading me instead 
 of my Trasteverine friend, if I were seen there. 
 TSTot a creature came that way from the palace — 
 they all lived in other directions. I lingered about 
 all night till some one came by soon after dawn, 
 saw the body, and raised an outcry. That night 
 — I nearly went mad — I walked up and down 
 the side streets ; whenever I turned towards the 
 Eipetta I seemed to see in a moment that black 
 heap in the distance, and then I thought he called 
 or stirred. I went once all the way into the Piazza 
 di Spagna, but some demon drove me back to look 
 at that dead man, his face turned up towards the 
 moon — horrible ! — a look to haunt one for ever — 
 they say men always look so who die by a stab ; 
 and while I was leaning over him the wind waved 
 a corner of his cloak — I thought he had come to 
 life, and was looking at me with that ghastly
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 341 
 
 Imelda, I must be mad outright to tell all this to 
 you — poor child, what was I dreaming of?' 
 
 He passed his arm round her, and pale and 
 trembling though she was, she leant against him 
 and slid her hand into his, and he kissed it as he 
 had never yet done in all their familiar inter- 
 course. 
 
 ' If you can hear all this without renouncing 
 me, Imelda, there is some hope for me ; where 
 could you have learned to be so charitable ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you for telling me,' whispered Imelda. 
 
 1 Tell no one ! ' said Ravelli hastily, as a doubt 
 of the safety of his secret occurred to him ; ' there 
 are some who might not believe me as innocent as 
 you do.' 
 
 1 Oh no, of course I shall tell no one ; mamma 
 has always said it is wicked to betray a secret.' 
 
 1 Fidati era un huon uomo, Nontifidare e meglio' 
 said Eavelli, quoting between jest and earnest a 
 well-known proverb. 
 
 'Chi e in sospetto e in difetto? answered Imelda, 
 with more liveliness than she often ventured to 
 show before Eavelli, who laughed and said with 
 almost his usual light-heartedness, ' I suppose 
 that women can keep their own secrets, if not 
 other people's.' 
 
 1 Then this shall be my very own. ' 
 
 ' I cannot understand why you women are not 
 more shocked, Imelda. I should have expected 
 vou to look on me as a monster made manifest, 
 when I tell you I intended to shoot a man as if 
 he had been a wild beast, and that I was the cause 
 of his death, for, but for what I said, he would 
 not have gone home alone.' 
 
 ' I think that it is very sad you should have
 
 342 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 felt so,' said Imelda, ' but you cannot be answer- 
 able for the murder ; you did not believe lie really 
 bad an enemy, and I have often heard papa laugh 
 at the idea. He said it was only a proof of how 
 important poor Lelio thought himself. And you 
 have been so unhappy, Luigi ; that is all that one 
 can do when one has been wrong. I am sure any 
 priest would give you absolution directly.' 
 
 ' Yes, I have been unhappy, as you say, Imelda,' 
 replied Eavelli with a sudden return of gloom. 
 1 Heaven knows that is true. But whether I 
 should not have brought that man to justice — ' 
 
 ' I think I should have let him go,' said Imelda, 
 hesitatingly, and the idea of her doing battle with, 
 and magnanimously releasing a ruffian who had 
 well nigh mastered himself, almost moved Eavelli 
 to laughter. 
 
 Signora Olivetti's entrance arrested the con- 
 versation — the first which Imelda had ever had 
 alone with Luigi. Her mother's look of surprise 
 reminded her of how great a breach of etiquette 
 she had committed, and she blushed like a rose 
 when Signora Olivetti said, ' If Luigi were not so 
 soon to be your husband, I don't know what I 
 should say, Imelda.' 
 
 Eavelli smiled, and the prospect did not seem 
 at that moment unwelcome. It was the percep- 
 tion of this which made Signora Olivetti spare her 
 little daughter any further reproof, and cease to ques- 
 tion her as to what Eavelli had said to her when she 
 found Imelda for the first time reluctant to answer. 
 
 Eavelli stood in a peculiar position with regard 
 to Imelda ; a kind of family compact had existed 
 from her babyhood that she should be his wife, 
 and she was now nearly sixteen, quite old enough,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MOEI. 343 
 
 according to Roman notions, to be married. Sig- 
 nora Olivetti had divined the true reason of all 
 the delays, which old Signor Eavelli sought to 
 explain away, but she kept her suspicions to her- 
 self, and did not enlighten her husband ; she had 
 desired the marriage for years ; Luigi was in 
 almost every respect the husband whom she would 
 have selected for Imelda — he was manly and 
 spirited, he had never gambled or been dissipated ; 
 he was very different from the blase, effeminate, 
 graceful set of young men, to whom other mothers 
 gladly gave their daughters ; but Signora Oli- 
 vetti would rather have seen pretty Imelda in her 
 grave than have given her to a husband whom 
 she could not love and respect. "When she heard 
 of Luigi' s mad freaks, or his daring riding, and 
 his beautiful horse, all of which were renowned 
 in the races got up by the English in winter on 
 the Campagna, she only thought she liked him 
 all the better, even if he were a scapegrace, and 
 that Luigi was worth all the idle, harmless 
 youths of her acquaintance whose 'affairs of 
 the heart ' were their only employment, to the 
 scandal of their families, and the profit of no 
 one. Bitterly did she regret that she had ever 
 allowed Gemma to visit Imelda, and anxiously had 
 she sought to marry the young countess to some 
 one — no matter to whom — so she were but dis- 
 posed of ! Imelda had been the delight, the hap- 
 piness of years to her; to secure her entrance 
 into a family which would cherish her, was the 
 aim of Signora Olivetti's life. Naturally she 
 thought more of this than did her husband, who 
 desired the marriage because the Eavelli were 
 very old friends and wealthy ; but his wife knew,
 
 344 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 rom bitter experience, how wretched the life of a 
 young bride might be, unless kindly received by 
 her husband's family, under the common Eoman 
 system of bride and bridegroom living with the 
 father and mother of the latter. Before Imelda 
 was released from her swaddling-clothes, her 
 mother had looked forward to giving her the 
 meek Signora Eavelli as a mother-in-law, and 
 vowed, silently, that this child should never go 
 through what she herself had done. 
 
 Imelda was very fond of Signora Eavelli, and 
 even of the irascible old father of Luigi, who, for 
 her, had always a joke and a caress, and smoothed 
 his brow at the sight of his little daughter-in- 
 law elect. She found double favour in his sight, as 
 an heiress and the child of a very old friend, and, 
 most of all, as his own choice for Luigi ; and no one 
 could wonder at his astonished wrath, when Luigi, 
 after having known and contentedly regarded 
 this match for years as a thing fixed as fate, had 
 suddenly turned round, and absolutely refused to 
 hear of it, without assigning any reason for the 
 change. To his mother he was more communi- 
 cative, but Signora Eavelli was submissive as a 
 slave to her husband, and would have been per- 
 fectly ill at the bare idea of opposing him, even for 
 the sake of her darling Luigi. Moreover, though 
 she tried to say that she liked Gemma, to please 
 him, she could not do so. The thought of having 
 this girl for a daughter-in-law, instead of the 
 sweet little Imelda, positively terrified her ; and, 
 though she listened to his confidences with 
 the most unwearied sympathy and patience, 
 Luigi knew that she could not, and would not, 
 help him. His own strong will was, however,
 
 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 345 
 
 quite a match for his father's, despotic and im- 
 perious as the old man was. Alternately indulged 
 and checked by hiin, and invariably spoiled 
 by his mother, Luigi had not been trained to 
 submit in such a juncture ; and fiery scenes were 
 but too frequent in Casa Kavelli. But the father 
 had one strong hold over his son — without his good 
 pleasure Luigi had not a penny in the world. 
 
 The rupture with Gemma had now led to a 
 truce ; RaveHi could not think of her without 
 anger and bitterness ; he visited Casa Olivetti 
 constantly, and found amusement and interest 
 in the conversation of Imelda, now that she had 
 gained a little confidence with him. But in all 
 his fluctuations the thought of Geinma was never 
 long absent, causing feelings anything but gentle, 
 and yet always present even when he lingered by 
 Imelda' s side in the window, where they often 
 sat, under Signora Olivetti's eye, but far enough 
 off to talk unheard. Imelda took courage to tell 
 Luigi of her favourite occupations, her little hopes 
 and fears, and won him sometimes to speak of 
 himself, and those were happy evenings for both ; 
 but often his thoughts had flown to the old stormy, 
 precious interviews snatched in peril, and lasting 
 but a few moments, yet worth whole days of 
 calmer pleasures, which he and G-emma used to 
 have on the stairs of Palazzo Clementi. 
 
 And, when he left Casa Olivetti, his steps would 
 turn towards the palace, to be withdrawn in anger 
 and shame. He would go home to recite the 
 rosario devoutly with his family; go out into society 
 again, and his first glance round the room was to 
 see if Gemma were present ; and once they met 
 and spoke coldly for a moment, then parted ; both
 
 346 MADEMOISELLE MORI. 
 
 full of feelings that would have burst out in de- 
 fiance of conventionalities and witnesses, had they 
 given way to them for one instant ; and yet no 
 one saw more than a slight, indifferent greeting 
 passing between them ! 
 
 The shock occasioned by the glimpse which 
 Gemma had given of her true self, was after all 
 not strong enough effectually to detach Ravelli. He 
 met her again in the Corso, as she went to mass 
 with her aunt ; he bowed, and passed on, but he 
 thought her face looked pale and changed ; he 
 heard, accidentally, that she had been ill. An in- 
 vitation from Clementi to spend the evening with 
 him at the palazzo was irresistible, and that night 
 beheld him as much Gemma's slave as ever. 
 
 The elders of the Olivetti and Eavelli families 
 would not have taken his vacillations patiently, but 
 that the death of so near a relative as Lelio, put 
 Imelda's marriage out of the question for the 
 present. 
 
 end or VOL. I.
 
 Post Octavo. . , 
 
 HANWORTH. Originally published in ' Eraser's Magazine. 
 TTTF OLD COALPIT; or, the Adventures of Richard 
 
 T Boot^in Searth of his 'own Way. By E. J. Mat, Author of < Louts- 
 School Days.' 4s. 6d. 
 
 AGGESDEN VICARAGE; or, Bridget Storey's First Charge. 
 
 Two Vols., 9s. 
 
 TTTF NTTT BROWN MAIDS ; or, the Eirst Hosier and his 
 
 TH H ten A Family Chronicle of the Days of Queen Elizabeth. 10s. 6d. 
 
 MEG OF ELIBANK and other Tales. By the Author 
 
 of ' The >~ut-Brown Maids.' 9s. 
 
 GWEN; or, The Cousins. By Miss Goodrich. Two Volumes, 
 THe"mYRTLE AND THE HEATHER. By the same 
 
 Author. Two Volumes, 9s. 
 
 THE INTERPRETER. By G. J. Whyte Melville. 
 
 Second Edition. 10s. 6d. 
 
 DIGBY GRAND. By the same Author. Third Edition. 5s. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 'DOROTHY.' 
 
 DOROTHY. Second Edition. 4s. 6d. 
 THE MAIDEN SISTERS. 5s. 
 UNCLE RALPH. 4s. 6d. 
 STILL WATERS. Two Volumes, 9s. 
 
 DE CRESSY. 4s. 6d. 
 
 BY MISS DRURY. 
 
 MISREPRESENTATION. Two Volumes, 18s. 
 
 FRIENDS AND FORTUNE. Second Edition. 6s. 
 
 THE INN BY THE SEA-SIDE. 2s. 
 
 Losdo* : JOHN W. PARKER and SON, West Strand.
 
 ^mtjrfatefr €hx&an of % €n$w\ IQods, 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTIONS, NOTES, AND MEMOIKS, 
 
 historical, biographical, anb Critical, 
 
 BY ROBERT BELL. 
 
 In Volumes, 2s. 6d. each, bound in cloth. 
 
 ANCIENT POEMS, BALLADS, AND SONGS OE THE 
 
 PEASANTRY. 2s. 6d. 
 
 GREENE AND MARLOWE. 2s. 6d. 
 
 EARLY BALLADS ILLUSTRATIVE OE HISTORY, 
 
 TRADITIONS, AND CUSTOMS. 2s. 6d. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 2s. 6d. 
 
 CHAUCER. Eight Volumes, 20s. 
 
 BUTLER. Three Volumes, 7s. 6d. 
 
 THOMSON. Two Volumes, 5s. 
 
 DRYDEN. Three Volumes, 7s. 6d. * 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 2s. 6d. 
 
 COWPER. Three Volumes, 7s. 6d. 
 
 SURREY, MINOR CONTEMPORANEOUS POETS, 
 
 AND BUCKHURST. 2s. 6d. 
 
 SONGS EROM THE DRAMATISTS; from the first regu- 
 
 lar Comedy to the close of the 18th Century. 2s. 6d. 
 
 WYATT. 2s. 6d. 
 OLDHAM. 2s. 6d. 
 WALLER. 2s. 6d. 
 
 London : JOHN W. PARKER and SON, West Strand.