■

 
 AMONG ALIENS
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/amongaliensnovel01trol
 
 AMONG ALIENS 
 
 <Z* iIot>d 
 
 FRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THAT UNFORTUNATE MARRIAGE,' 'A CHARMING FELLOW, ' AUNT MARGARET'S 
 
 TROUBLE,' ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 SPENCER BLACKETT 
 
 ST. BRIDE STREET, LUDGATE CIRCUS, E.C. 
 1890 
 [All rights reserved]
 
 NO 
 
 8 2.3 
 
 ^ 
 
 <i 
 
 THIS STORY 
 
 IS 
 
 JUfecttonatdt) ^fcicateb 
 
 TO 
 
 M. S. T.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. AFTER SUNSET - - 1 
 
 II. ON THE HEIGHTS - - - -22 
 
 III. MAtTRESSE FEMME - - - - 40 
 
 IV. PIETY - - - - , 57 
 V. POLICY - - . 78 
 
 VI. A TUG-OF-WAR - - - 92 
 
 VII. ART AND NATURE - - - - 111 
 
 VIII. A POISONED SHAFT - - - - 137 
 
 IX. SERPENT AND DOVE - - - 156 
 
 X. A DUEL - 173 
 
 XL THE RAW MATERIAL - - - 191 
 
 XII. ' A WORM I' THE BUD ' 216
 
 A.MONG ALIENS. 
 
 ^>o^c 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 It seemed to have grown dark suddenly. I 
 had had my eyes fixed on the glory of the 
 sunset. The glow of crimson and purple 
 and gold had died away behind the black 
 dome of St. Peter's, and was succeeded by a 
 long streak of orange colour, clear, intense, 
 and solemn. One star glittered steel-bright 
 above it, and the edges of the distant horizon 
 were dim and vaporous. The profoundly 
 vol. i. 1
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 pathetic beauty of those winter sunsets 
 from the Pincian always moved me like a 
 poem or a strain of solemn music. Every 
 common street sound seemed to jar importu- 
 nately with the serenity of the wondrous 
 sky and the mournful stillness of the land- 
 scape beneath it. I had a feeling that the 
 world ought to pause in its noisy whirl and 
 be silent before that sunset. The air seemed 
 to be vibrating: with memories of the awful 
 past, and that orange streak in the west to 
 be intense with a mysterious meaning. 
 
 I had gazed at it until my eyes were 
 dazzled, and when I turned them downward 
 to the earth, I found that it was dark. It 
 had been raining but an hour ago, and the 
 pools of water all along the straight line of 
 the Via Condotti, where the street lamps 
 glittered in two converging rows, reflected, 
 here and there, the lingering lights in the
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 sky, whilst the houses on either hand were 
 in blackest shadow. 
 
 ' It is late !' I exclaimed to myself, as I 
 drew my shawl closer against the chill 
 evening air. ' I must make haste home, or 
 Lucy will be uneasy.' 
 
 ' Home ' was not far distant. We lived in 
 a street running steeply uphill from the Via 
 Sistina, in a little lodging on the topmost 
 *tory. That was all the better in Rome, 
 they said ; one was out of the malaria. I 
 did not much concern mvself with fears of 
 the malaria (though, indeed, for Lucy's sake, 
 it was well to take what precautions we 
 could ; Lucy was not so hardy as I), but the 
 topmost story suited us in various ways. 
 In the first place it suited our purses, which 
 were slender. Then we had, from one win- 
 dow of our sitting-room, a glimpse across 
 the housetops of the distant Campagna, and 
 
 I — 2
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 nearly an hour more daylight than our 
 neighbours on the lower floors. I climbed 
 quickly up the long steep stairs, and opened 
 our door with my key. Contrary to my ex- 
 pectation there was no light in the room 
 which served us for drawing-room, study, 
 boudoir, and dining-room, all in one. Lucy 
 had not yet come home, then. A few logs 
 smouldered in the open stove, as I had left 
 them, and the lamp stood ready on the table. 
 I struck a liofht and fastened the shutters, 
 and blew at the smouldering wood until 
 it blazed cheerfully. It made the shabby 
 room look so pleasant and homelike, that I 
 said aloud, although I was quite alone, 
 ' How I wish Lucy would come home and 
 enjoy it !' 
 
 Then I sat down to finish a little study 
 in black and white that I had been making 
 from a plaster cast. I had my work all
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 ready laid out on the table before me, and 
 began to draw. In those days I never 
 knew how time went when once I had my 
 pencil in my hand ; and, indeed, it is much 
 the same with me now. I went on working 
 until I was roused by a violent gust of wind 
 which made the windows rattle. Windows 
 rattle easily in Rome, where the panes of 
 glass are generally loosely fixed into the 
 wooden frames, and where woodwork, as a 
 rule, is made in a crazy, clumsy fashion. 
 But this was a really strong blast of wind. 
 I heard it howl and moan as it swept round 
 the corner of our street. Some drops of 
 rain, too, struck against the glass. The 
 thought that Lucy was out in such wild 
 weather, whilst I was warm indoors, made 
 me shudder sympathetically. I looked at 
 my watch, and was startled to find that it 
 marked a quarter-past six o'clock. I had
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 been drawing for more than an hour, and 
 Lucy had not yet returned ! She ought to 
 have been at home lonef asfo. The Palazzo 
 Corleoni, where she went to give lessons in 
 English, was down in the more central part 
 of Rome, near the great church of the Gesii. 
 But that was no distance for a ty-ood 
 walker with young, active limbs, like Lucy. 
 Besides, she had never been so late before. 
 I was uneasy. It was in vain that I held 
 my crayon firmly and continued to stare at 
 my plaster model. The lines would not 
 come rightly. My head was anxious and 
 preoccupied, and refused to guide my blun- 
 dering hand. I threw down the bit of 
 black chalk impatiently. 
 
 At that moment the crack-voiced bell 
 began to tinkle, and I ran to open the door, 
 and there stood Lucy with her little gauze 
 veil clinging to her face with moisture, and
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 drops of rain glistening on her cloak. I un- 
 clasped the cloak from her shoulders as she 
 stood, and shook it, and then drew her into 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 ' What a nice fire you have !' she said in 
 her fresh, clear voice. ' I'm a little late, am 
 I not, Catherine ?' 
 
 A lump came up into my throat, and I 
 felt angry at the same time. It hurt me to 
 find her so easy and unconcerned, and 
 talking so carelessly of being ' a little late,' 
 when I had been suffering real pangs of 
 anxiety about her. Yes ; I had been 
 frightened ; and I only knew how oppres- 
 sive the vague thronging fears had been, 
 when I saw her standing safe before me. 
 
 ' A little late,' I answered drily ; and bade 
 her sit down by the fire and unlace her 
 wet boots at once, whilst I went back to my 
 drawing. But the pencil would not obey
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 me even now. I felt the tremor of one 
 who is suddenly made aware of a horrible 
 danger escaped. What if Lucy had not 
 come home safe ! The thought made my 
 heart sick. I conjured up all sorts of catas- 
 trophes which might have befallen her, 
 furtively watching her from my place as she 
 sat in the shine of the fire. Her hair had 
 2fot loose, and fell in wavy curlv locks on 
 to one shoulder ; and there were raindrops 
 glistening on its clear soft brown. She had 
 very pretty hair : hair of that rare kind 
 which looks picturesque in disorder. Her 
 cheeks and her delicate little nose were pink 
 with the cold, and her pretty small hands 
 were red and numbed, as she sat fumbling 
 with chill fingers at the damp bootlace. She 
 seemed almost the same little Lucy who 
 used to come to me for help in her struggles 
 with rebellious buttons and complicated
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 
 
 strings, in our nursery-days. And all at once 
 she lifted up her blue eyes with the very 
 same innocent helpless look I remembered 
 in them when she was three years old, and 
 said, ' I'm afraid I can't undo it, Catherine. 
 My fingers are so cold.' 
 
 I knelt down before her and unfastened 
 the damp boots, and drew them off, and her 
 stockings too, and rubbed her feet with a 
 dry towel. 
 
 ' Thank you, Catherine dear,' she said ; 
 ' but it is a shame that you should do that. 
 I can manage now by myself.' 
 
 Then finding that I went on chafing her 
 cold little feet, without making her any 
 answer, she said timidly : ' You ain't vexed 
 with me about anything are you, Catty 
 dear V 
 
 ' I am vexed with myself for having been 
 so foolish as to be frightened,' said I, speak-
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ing very curtly, and keeping my head bent 
 down. 
 
 ' Frightened ! Why ? About me ?' 
 
 ' You are not usually an hour late ; and 
 when one is alone one gets nervous and 
 fanciful. I suppose.' 
 
 ' An hour late ! Oh, you must be mis- 
 taken, Catherine. They did keep me a 
 little, but not so long as that. It's im- 
 possible.' 
 
 I held up my watch, and she looked at it 
 in amazement. ' Oh, my poor Catherine !' 
 she exclaimed, putting her arms round my 
 neck, and her soft cheek against mine ; 
 ' how sorry I am ! I know how frightened 
 I should be if you did not come home 
 punctually; — only you are always punctual.' 
 
 T kissed her without letting her find out 
 that there were tears in my eyes. I could not 
 give any good reason to myself for their
 
 AFTER SUNSET. n 
 
 being there. But I had felt an unusual 
 sense of melancholy and apprehension on 
 me all the evening. The very sunset had 
 seemed more intensely sad than usual ; and 
 to me its beauty is always sad. But such 
 waves of emotion, if they cannot be altogether 
 resisted, are best borne in silence. I hold 
 my breath and keep still, and the tide flows 
 over me and passes away. 
 
 Lucy brightened up immediately when I 
 kissed her. Her affectionate nature could 
 not endure that there should be a cloud 
 between us. And, indeed, there had never 
 come a cloud that a word could not dispel. 
 
 ' And did you work late at the studio ?' 
 she asked. ' And w r as old Sisfnor Sandro 
 very cross ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; and no.' 
 
 ' No ? / believe he is always cross ! He 
 would frighten me to death. But you have
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 more courage. Oh, how beautifully you 
 are finishing this chalk study !' 
 
 And so she chatted on whilst I filled the 
 little tin tea-kettle with water, and set it on 
 the fire to boil, and got the tea-things ready. 
 We allowed ourselves the luxury of tea of 
 an evening. It reminded us of England, 
 and that, perhaps, was the chief reason why 
 I liked it. 
 
 ' And now, Lucy,' said I, when we were 
 seated at the table, ' now that you are 
 thawed you must tell me what made you so 
 late. It must not happen again, my child. 
 I don't like your being out in the streets so 
 late alone.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid, Catherine.' 
 ' That is not the whole question.' 
 ' And besides, you often are out by your- 
 self later than this. Don't you remember 
 when I had the sore throat, how vou went
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 13 
 
 all the way to the chemist's close to the 
 Popolo, and it was nearly ten o'clock, and 
 you said ' 
 
 ' That's very different, Lucy.' 
 
 < Why ?' 
 
 ' Because a young girl alone in the 
 
 streets might be molested, or at least 
 annoyed.' 
 
 ' And what are you, then, Catty ? An 
 old woman ? One would think you were 
 eighty to hear you talk ! But, after all, 
 you are only six years older than I am.' 
 
 ' Never mind all that now, Lucy. We 
 will finish that discussion another time. You 
 have not answered my question as to how it 
 came to pass that you are so late.' 
 
 I Oh, they kept me at the Palazzo Corleoni. 
 I mean they asked me to stay a little while.' 
 
 I I think the Princess ought to know 
 butter. I am sure you well earn your poor
 
 i4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 little pay in an hour. It is too bad to ask 
 for more work out of you, Lucy.' 
 
 ' Oh, it wasn't the Princess. Besides, I 
 don't grudge a little extra time, dear.' 
 
 ' Not the Princess ? Who was it, then V 
 
 1 It was Donna Laura and her brother.' 
 
 < What had he to do with it ?' 
 
 ' Oh, he came in with a copy of a letter 
 that he wanted translated into English, and 
 Donna Laura said would I help her, just to 
 oblige her brother ? And I said yes.' 
 
 ' What was the letter about ?' 
 
 ' Merely a business letter, about sending 
 a horse he has bought — Don Vittorio has 
 bought — from England. I didn't mind 
 doing it at all, Catherine dear.' 
 
 I did not like the proceeding a t all ; and 
 I said so. They were not above asking 
 a favour, these great people, although their 
 supercilious manner was incessantly remind-
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 15 
 
 ing us that between the noble and princely 
 House of Corleoni and two obscure English 
 girls, who were trying to earn a living, there 
 was a great gulf fixed. Be it so. For my 
 part I felt no yearning to bridge over the 
 gulf, having my own opinion as to which side 
 of it was the preferable one. But I did not 
 approve of these new advances on the part 
 of Donna Laura's brother. I could not help 
 suspecting that he might have managed to 
 get his letter translated without having 
 recourse to his sister's English teacher, had 
 he chosen to do so. I sat thinking-, and, I 
 suppose, frowning over my thoughts, for 
 Lucy said, ' I am sorry you are displeased, 
 dear. And you look so stern that I am 
 almost afraid to give you Donna Laura's 
 message.' 
 
 ' A message for me ? More innovations !' 
 ' She sent you her compliments, and
 
 16 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 asked if you would be so very kind as to go 
 to the Palazzo with me next Wednesday to 
 look at some drawings of hers. And I — I 
 think she wants you to do some for her.' 
 
 1 1 should like to send word back that 
 I only work for love or money, and therefore 
 am obliged to refuse my services to Donna 
 Laura de' Principi Bastiani-CorleomV 
 ' Oh, you wouldn't do that, Catherine V 
 ' No. But I should enjoy it. However, 
 I cannot afford such luxuries as that. What 
 is it all about ? Do you know ? If so, give 
 me a full account, Lucy mine.' 
 
 ' Well — if you won't mind my rambling a 
 little — because when my head is very full 
 of different things, they never will come out 
 
 exactly in order ' 
 
 ' No, no. Ramble away, pussy dear.' 
 Then she told me that there was to be a 
 grand bazaar or fancy fair, in aid of a pious
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 17 
 
 institution in which the ladies of the Roman 
 aristocracy were interested. It was to be a 
 very grand bazaar indeed. The Pope ap- 
 proved it, and had promised a silver vase as 
 his contribution, which was to be raffled for. 
 Cardinals and Monsignori smiled benevo- 
 lently on the project. All the noble ladies 
 — all those, that is to say, whose families 
 held to the ancient regime, and were good 
 Papalini — were working for it, and nobody 
 who had even looked at the outside of the 
 Quirinal since the year 1870 was to be 
 allowed to have a hand in it on any pretence 
 whatever. Among the chief promoters of 
 it was the Princess Bastiani-Corleoni. She 
 was to hold a stall with her eldest daughter 
 Donna Laura. Donna Laura had some 
 little reputation as an amateur artist, and 
 her contributions to the stock-in-trade were 
 to consist of water-colour sketches, painted 
 vol. 1. 2
 
 18 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 fans and screens, and objects of that sort. 
 T was wanted to assist in doing some of 
 these things, and should, of course, be paid 
 for my work. The ' of course ' was Lucy's. 
 I did not feel sure that Donna Laura 
 intended to pay me. But I was firmly 
 resolved that I would make no pencil-stroke 
 without payment. I mused a little over 
 the proposition. 
 
 1 You will come, won't you, Catherine ? 
 For my sake ! It would be so disagreeable 
 for me to have to tell them that you refused.' 
 
 ' I will tell you what I'll do, Lucy ; I 
 will consult Signor Sandro, and if he says 
 " Go," I will go.' 
 
 ' Signor Sandro is sure to advise you not 
 to Qfo. I know he is.' 
 
 ' Why, pray ?' 
 
 1 Because he's so crabbed and cross. And 
 besides, he is a Red Republican, and he was
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 19 
 
 exiled in the '48, and — and — I know he 
 won't let you go.' 
 
 I was a little surprised at Lucy's political 
 information. But I let the subject drop 
 then, and our talk drifted away to other 
 things ; — drifted to our childish days, as it 
 so often did ; to the pretty home in a suburb 
 of a great English town where we had been 
 born and bred ; to the time when my father 
 brought home a second wife, Lucy's mother, 
 a gentle, soft creature whom my brother and 
 I were determined to hate before we saw 
 her, and whom we adored and petted and 
 ruled over before she had been a week in 
 the house : to Lucy's self as a tiiry blue-eyed 
 baby, with the patientest, most plaintive 
 little face, whom I held in my arms when 
 I was little more than a baby myself. Her 
 mother died when my half-sister was barely 
 a twelvemonth old, and Lucy loved to hear 
 
 2—2
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 me talk of the sweet, dead mother whom she 
 had no remembrance of. And now our 
 father was dead too, and our only brother in 
 South America fighting his way up in the 
 world, and we two — it seemed strange, even 
 after a twelvemonth, as we spoke of it — 
 were in Rome. 
 
 And then we talked of the future : how 
 I was to paint a great picture which should 
 take the world by storm, and be hung on the 
 line at the Academy by unanimous accla- 
 mation of all the Hanoina Committee the 
 moment it was seen : and how I was to 
 build the most artistic house that ever had 
 been conceived, and fill it with beautiful old 
 furniture and tapestry and china : and how 
 my studio was to be besieged by eager 
 buyers : and how I was never to accept a 
 commission ' even for hundreds of pounds,' 
 as Lucy said (her ideas of the value of
 
 AFTER SUNSET. 21 
 
 money were very rudimentary in those days ; 
 and I believe a hundred pounds stood in her 
 mind as an algebraic x, or symbol of an 
 unknown quantity), unless I thoroughly 
 liked the subject and felt it to be worthy of 
 artistic treatment. 
 
 Generally, Lucy's part in these prophetic 
 visions was to marry somebody ' very nice,' 
 and have a charming house near mine — not 
 too artistic ; for Lucy had private objections 
 to certain dull blues, and dingy greens, and 
 tattered hangings which she had heard 
 painters incomprehensibly admire — and 
 several lovely children whose portraits I 
 was to paint. But to-night — I thought of 
 it after she had gone to bed — she said no 
 word as to her own future.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 
 
 Sionor Sandro did not dissuade me from 
 going to the Palazzo Corleoni. He smiled 
 a little grimly when he heard of the works 
 of art in preparation for the bazaar. 
 
 ' I suppose you are to do the work, and 
 the Principessina is to take all the praise,' 
 said he. 
 
 ' I care nothing about the praise, master ; 
 but I cannot afford to work without pay. I 
 might be studying, doing something to 
 improve myself, instead of daubing banalities 
 on pasteboard screens. And if I give up
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 23 
 
 my time to Donna Laura, I must have some 
 equivalent.' 
 
 ' You don't consider " the honour " to be 
 an equivalent V asked Signor Sandro, looking 
 over his maulstick at me with his gray 
 bushy eyebrows drawn together. 
 
 ' Not in the least. I think I understand 
 pretty well what that honour is worth.' 
 
 1 1 think you do, Caterina !' returned my 
 master. And he took a pinch of snuff with 
 a long-drawn sniff of satisfaction. 
 
 ' I don't much like the Corleonis,' said I. 
 ' They impose on Lucy. They pay her 
 very poorly, and get more work out of her 
 than is just. She is such a soft-hearted, 
 grateful little creature that a kind word will 
 make her do anything.' 
 
 Signor Sandro shrugged his shoulders. 
 ' If you make yourself a sheep, the wolf will 
 eat you,' he answered drily. He was a
 
 24 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 good man ; but he was not quite free from 
 the national tendency to confound soft- 
 heartedness with thick -headedness. He was 
 theoretically intolerant, and contemptuous 
 of people who allowed themselves to be 
 imposed upon. But in practice he was the 
 gentlest of beings ; and little children tyran- 
 nized over him confidently. 
 
 We went on working in silence for a 
 while, and then he said, ' No ; I see no 
 reason wiry you should not go and earn a 
 few francs at Palazzo Corleoni. The Prin- 
 cess is not a bad woman — bigoted and 
 prejudiced, but not a bad woman. I remem- 
 ber her very handsome, too, thirty years 
 ago. They tell me she has taken to devo- 
 tion in these days, but still ' — with a quaint 
 apologetic inflection of voice, and with per- 
 fect seriousness — ' still I don't think she's a 
 bad woman.'
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 25 
 
 So I consented to go to the Palazzo Cor- 
 leoni on the next Wednesday. I had been 
 there once or twice before, to settle Lucy's 
 eno-ao-ement as English teacher. It is a 
 splendid edifice, with a noble courtyard and 
 staircase, all on the vast scale seen only in 
 Rome. But it is chill and gloomy despite 
 its grandeur. If one had to paint it, one 
 would spread crimson cloth over the marble 
 steps, and populate them with figures in 
 picturesque mediaeval costume, to give some 
 idea of warmth and life. The withered old 
 porter at the entrance, in his silver-laced 
 livery and cocked hat, looked misanthropi- 
 cally out on to the street from under the 
 cavernous archway. All the inmates of 
 Palazzo Corleoni looked misanthropic when 
 their eyes were turned towards the street. 
 That was the tone of their party, the proper 
 thing to do. The outer world was changed
 
 26 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 and abominable since the year 1870, and 
 not to be contemplated without disgust. 
 Even the great tortoiseshell cat, licking her 
 whiskers in the midst of one small patch of 
 sunshine in the courtyard, had a Tartuffian 
 air of victimhood. 
 
 The Prince and Princess Bastiani-Corleoni 
 did not occupy the whole of their huge 
 palace, nor half, nor a quarter of it. The 
 first floor was let to a foreign cardinal of 
 great wealth, and the third to a rich Ameri- 
 can family, who paid highly for the privilege 
 of putting the address of the Palazzo Cor- 
 leoni on their visiting-cards. The Prince and 
 Princess themselves inhabited a suite of rooms 
 in the second story. This suite of rooms, 
 however, ran along the whole front and one 
 wing of the palace, and had as many cubic 
 feet of space in it as would have furnished 
 forth two or three London mansions. The
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 27 
 
 Corleonis were not very rich in proportion 
 to their rank, but they contrived to keep up 
 a wonderful show of outward grandeur. 
 
 Lucy and I toiled up the long marble 
 staircase to the second story ; and, in 
 answer to her modest little ring, were 
 admitted into a large and lofty entrance hall, 
 with great swinging leathern doors, such as 
 you see in Continental churches. Gloom, 
 cold, and ennui seemed to inhabit that 
 entrance-hall. The marble pavement shot 
 out icy gleams, here and there, in the sub- 
 dued light. A vast carved settee of time- 
 blackened walnut- wood nearly filled one side 
 of the hall, and on the other was an antique 
 marble chimney-piece rising half-way to the 
 vaulted roof; but the hearth beneath it was 
 walled up, and a brazier full of wood ashes 
 set in the middle of the floor, mocked numbed 
 fingers and chill feet with a miserable pre-
 
 2 8 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 tence of warmth. Beyond the leather door 
 at the further end of this vestibule there 
 was an antechamber, carpeted and curtained, 
 and therefore less inhuman in its aspect than 
 the outer hall, but still bearing the impress 
 of a formal rigidity devoid of all that ox>es 
 to make up home. After that came a long 
 suite of reception-rooms, which the beneficent 
 sun himself had touched with some o-enial 
 kindness, and whose atmosphere, therefore, 
 a little thawed one's spirits frozen by that 
 terrible north-west passage through the hall 
 and antechamber. But as for ' home,' these 
 rooms, too, proclaimed their ignorance of 
 that blessed word, in every fold of their stiff 
 velvet draperies, in every glittering ray from 
 their gilded picture-frames, in every line of 
 their satin chairs and couches disposed at 
 right angles with each other, and their 
 ormolu tables unacquainted with books, and
 
 OX THE HEIGHTS. 29 
 
 adorned chiefly with the tawdry, faded ; 
 bonnieres levied last New Year's Day by 
 more or less voluntary contribution from the 
 Princess's bachelor acquaintance. A grand 
 pianoforte, left open in one corner of a 
 huge, tasteless, gorgeous saloon, seemed 
 to show its teeth at us. The whole atmo- 
 sphere of the place depressed and chilled 
 me, and I said as much to Lucy as we 
 marched side by side through the rooms 
 in the wake of the servant who was t<> 
 announce us. 
 
 1 Oh !' said she with a little look 1 >f sur- 
 prise and disappointment, ' I always think 
 this suite is so splendid. And it is never 
 very cold here. Catherine, so that must be 
 your fancy. The sun shines on this side of 
 the house all day long.'" 
 
 4 Then it is the moral climate that does 
 not aoTee with me."
 
 3° 
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ' 'Sh, dear ! Here we are at the school- 
 room.' 
 
 We entered a room somewhat smaller than 
 the others, but still of ample size, looking on 
 to the courtyard. It had a few squares of 
 common drugget disposed here and there 
 on the brick floor, a horrible blue and yellow 
 paper on the walls, and at one end a glazed 
 book-case filled with school-books. On a 
 large square table in the middle of the room 
 stood a common office inkstand and a pounce- 
 box, whose contents were spilt about over 
 the green baize table-cover. There were also 
 two or three exercise books, a dictionary, 
 and a litter of papers. Such was the ' still 
 life ' of the picture. 
 
 Two little girls — with long growing limbs 
 like young colts, sallow faces and soft dark 
 eyes — sat at the table engaged with their 
 lessons. In the embrasure of one of the
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 31 
 
 windows was set an easel, and in front of 
 the easel stood Donna Laura Corleoni, the 
 eldest daughter of the house. She was a 
 handsome girl, with a fine rich tint in her 
 cheeks like the tone of a damask rose, glossy 
 dark hair, white teeth, and a pair of rather 
 small, but very vivacious, black eyes. Her 
 figure was singularly upright, and the car- 
 riage of her head in particular so erect, as to 
 give her the air of perpetually looking over 
 an invisible stiff cravat at one, which injured 
 the grace of her appearance in my eyes. 
 
 She came forward and greeted us, speak- 
 ing English with considerable fluency and 
 perfect self-confidence. Her manner was not 
 unpleasant, except for an odd strain in it 
 which I find it difficult to describe, but 
 which I felt distinctly: she spoke to me and 
 looked at me with an undisguised frank air 
 of examination, as who should say, ' Now let
 
 32 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 me see what you are like !' but with no more 
 apparent conception that she herself was 
 exposed to an answering examination, than 
 one might feel in contemplating some strange 
 animal. 
 
 ' These are my drawings, you see,' she 
 said. ' But there is not time for me to 
 finish all before the bazaar. I have still 
 three screens and a box in carton which need 
 to be painted, and these we must have by 
 the end of the month. It is so important 
 that mamma's stall be well filled, you know.' 
 
 I could not perceive that it was of any 
 importance to me whether the Princess's 
 stall were full or empty ; so I merely bowed 
 my head and said nothing. Donna Laura 
 looked at me with her quick black eyes as if 
 she expected me to speak ; but, finding that 
 I remained silent, she went on : ' Well, you 
 see what is to do, Meess Wilson. And for
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 33 
 
 my own sketches, if you have some advice 
 to give ' 
 
 This was rather an awkward question. 
 There was ability in the young lady's work : 
 a certain decision and sense of effect. In- 
 deed, there was so much proof of ability, 
 that the temptation passed through my mind 
 to give her the sincerest advice I could, 
 which would have been to throw all these 
 things on the fire, lock up her colour-box 
 for six months, and begin to study drawing 
 seriously. But of course such an utterance 
 on my part was out of the question. I 
 limited myself to that portion of the matter 
 which immediately concerned me, and 
 answered, ' I do not know whether you will 
 think it worth while to employ me to paint 
 these screens, Donna Laura. My time is 
 of some value, and perhaps, as it is for a 
 charity, you might prefer to get some friend 
 
 vol. 1. 3
 
 34 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 to assist you who has leisure to do this sort 
 of thing gratis.' 
 
 Lucy coloured and looked nervous at this 
 plain speaking ; but Donna Laura displayed 
 no such sensitiveness. 
 
 She replied : ' Oh, we would like that they 
 should be very well done ; because mamma's 
 stall will be one of the best. You will talk 
 with mamma by-and-by about the price. 
 Now tell me, would you line this with red 
 silk or blue silk V 
 
 I drew nearer to the light, and was bend- 
 ing down my head to consider the point 
 when I heard the door open and someone 
 come into the room. Thinking it might be 
 the Princess, I turned round to look, and 
 saw Don Vittorio Corleoni. 
 
 I knew him well enough by sight. He 
 was to be seen on the Pincian every after- 
 noon at the fashionable hour in the fashion-
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 35 
 
 able season ; and once or twice in the spring 
 when I was making a study near the tomb 
 of Cecilia Metella, I had seen him pass by 
 on horseback. He rode well, and I had re- 
 marked him and his horse as a handsome 
 pair of animals. He did not look quite so 
 well off his horse as on it, for his legs — 
 pitilessly displayed by the tight - fitting, 
 fashionable trousers that he wore — appeared 
 weak and 'weedy,' like the limbs of a rickety 
 child. But his face was undoubtedly very 
 handsome. He had sharply-cut features, a 
 clear pale skin, hair and whiskers arranged 
 after the English fashion, and of that rich 
 blonde hue which one sees in Venetian 
 pictures, and a pair of eyes like sapphires. 
 A very handsome face, in truth, but one 
 which I disliked and mistrusted with an 
 irresistible repulsion. The leading charac- 
 teristic which stamped it was, I should say, 
 
 3 — 2
 
 36 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 a cruel, thin-lipped sort of sensuality. The 
 forehead was rather weak, but not dull. 
 What those sapphire-blue eyes did see, they 
 saw clearly, microscopically — accurately per- 
 ceptive of the animalculse in a glass of water, 
 hopelessly blind to the stars. Let no one 
 appeal to that face for sympathy with the 
 higher sentiments ! — it did not believe in 
 their existence. But, still, inasmuch as a 
 sane human creature can scarcely exist with- 
 out some grain of imagination, I discovered 
 later that even Don Vittorio Corleoni 
 possessed a small modicum of that faculty, 
 and he expended it all on one object : the 
 greatness and prosperity of the princely 
 House of Bastiani- Corleoni. That was his 
 ideal in life. Everything else that he 
 recognised could be touched or tasted. 
 
 Donna Laura asked her brother what he 
 wanted, with her brisk, martinet air, which
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 37 
 
 contrasted oddly with his feline quietude of 
 manner and soft drawling voice. What did 
 he want ? He wanted a letter deciphered 
 and translated : another from the horse- 
 dealer in Yorkshire. Could Laura do it ? 
 If not, perhaps Meess Lucy would be kind 
 enough ? 
 
 1 Meess Lucy ' held out her hand for the 
 letter with alacrity. ' Oh, I shall be very 
 glad. It is no trouble at all,' she murmured 
 shyly. There was a tremulous smile on her 
 lips, and a light in her innocent eyes, which 
 gave me a dull pain at the heart. 
 
 ' This is Meess Lucy's sister, Meess Wil- 
 son,' said Donna Laura, speaking in Italian, 
 and indicating me to her brother with a 
 wave of the hand. 
 
 Don Vittorio drew his heels close together, 
 and made me a grave formal bow. I was 
 conscious that my salutation in return was
 
 38 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 stiff and awkward. I was altogether ill at 
 ease. After one cool glance of inspection 
 Don Vittorio withdrew his attention from 
 me altogether ; that is to say, he withdrew 
 his eyes from me. But I felt that he 
 observed me furtively. From that moment 
 whenever we two met, we watched one 
 another mistrustfully. 
 
 ' You must not interrupt us, Vittorio/ 
 said Donna Laura. ' We are very busy, 
 Meess Wilson and I. And you know how 
 important it is that mamma's stall should 
 be splendid. I cannot attend to you now. 
 Meess Wilson and I are going to mamma to 
 speak of business. Come, Meess Wilson. 
 Make haste with your letter, Vittorio. You 
 know you waste the children's English hour 
 with all this tiresome affair of your horse. 
 And mamma would not be pleased if she 
 knew it.'
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS. 39 
 
 Donna Laura walked off, motioning me 
 to follow her. I had no choice but to do 
 so. ' I shall come back here before I go 
 away, Lucy,' I said quickly. Lucy did not 
 hear me. She had her head bent down over 
 Don Vittorio's letter, whilst that patrician 
 o-entleman stood very near the school-table, 
 stroking his youngest sister's hair, and gazing 
 admiringly at Lucy's delicate little hand as 
 it lay on the green cloth under his eyes.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MA IT R ESSE FEMME. 
 
 The Princess drove a hard bargain. I think 
 we should not have come to terms at all, 
 but for my desire to frequent that unin- 
 viting schoolroom in the Palazzo Corleoni 
 and see for myself how things went there. 
 But when the Princess said it was one of 
 the conditions of the arrangement that I 
 should come and work in her house, and not 
 carry away any of the objects which were 
 to be painted, the temptation was too strong 
 for me, and I accepted very miserable pay 
 rather than give the thing up. I could
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 41 
 
 think of no better course of conduct to 
 pursue than quietly and carefully to watch 
 over Lucy, and endeavour to judge of her 
 feeling towards Don Vittorio, without yield- 
 ing to any rash impulse of anger or sus- 
 picion. 
 
 For suspicion, in truth, I had no tangible 
 grounds ; nothing that I could have told to 
 a third person without the risk of my words 
 either being disregarded, or having an ex- 
 aggerated importance attached to them. 
 And this latter was a result which I should 
 most earnestly endeavour to avoid. The 
 only person in whom I could confide any 
 trouble or perplexity which assailed me — 
 the only friend, indeed, I had in Rome — was 
 my master, Alessandro Santi ; and I would 
 have trusted his judgment on most subjects 
 as fully as I trusted the goodness of his in- 
 tentions towards mv sister and mvself. But
 
 42 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 on this subject — no ; I knew enough of 
 Italian modes of thought to be sure that 
 Signor Sandro would put but one inter- 
 pretation on Don Vittorio's visits to the 
 schoolroom. But this was not all. Signor 
 Sandro would infallibly assume that those 
 visits implied to Lucy's mind all, or nearly 
 all, that they implied to his own. My 
 shrewd old master much approved of the 
 superior freedom granted to English girls as 
 compared with the restraints placed upon 
 Italian girls, although his notions about it 
 were very imperfect ; but he drew several 
 erroneous inferences from that which he did 
 know. One of these inferences was that an 
 English girl, accustomed to mingle freely in 
 society instead of being shut up in a convent, 
 and brought out thence to be married, must 
 necessarily have a copious knowledge of the 
 world — a phrase which I have generally
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 43 
 
 found to be a euphemism for ' knowledge of 
 the evil things in the world.' The mixture 
 of simplicity, fearlessness, and romance in a 
 character like Lucv's was bevond his com- 
 prehension. He could have conceived a 
 nun - taught Roman schoolgirl falling an 
 innocent victim to Don Vittorio's fascina- 
 tions, but not a bright, capable, English girl 
 who trotted about the streets of Rome un- 
 attended, and read the newspapers ; whereas 
 the convent-bred imagination would in all 
 probability have taken the alarm first. To 
 it men in general were wolves, and young 
 girls only to be saved from them by im- 
 plicit obedience to their experienced pastors, 
 spiritual and temporal. How could a mind 
 so taught weave a web of romantic fancies 
 about such a one as Don Vittorio Alfonso 
 de' Prmcipi Corleoni ? — a gossamer, fairy- 
 like, moonlit tissue of girlish dreams and
 
 44 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 vague tenderness, no more like conscious 
 passion than the cool glitter of Hesperus is 
 like the fires of Etna ! 
 
 Yet some such dream it was that I feared 
 for Lucy. Or rather I feared the awaken- 
 ing from it that must come. The worship 
 of ' some bright particular star ' is often a 
 not unsweet prelude in a young girl's heart 
 to the deeper music of real love. But 
 suddenly to find that your star is but a 
 coarse flame fed by foul tallow — to feel the 
 wings of your spirit scorched and withered 
 in its glare and stench — that is a hideous 
 experience which I was resolved to spare 
 my Lucy at almost any cost and by almost 
 any effort. 
 
 But then, after all, it might be that I 
 was mistaken and over-anxious. I kept this 
 alternative before my mind as a possibility, 
 and for awhile all my observations seemed
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 45 
 
 to tend towards raising it to a proba- 
 bility. 
 
 I went daily to the Palazzo Corleoni to 
 work for Donna Laura, and to help her in 
 her work. I found that we were not to 
 paint in the schoolroom, but in a small 
 cabinet near to the Princess's boudoir, so 
 that she could easily come in and inspect 
 our progress, which she did very often. 
 But although I was thus not constantly 
 with Lucy, I was within reach of her, and 
 frequently had an opportunity of going into 
 the schoolroom ; for the two younger girls 
 had undertaken, as their contribution to the 
 bazaar, to colour and gild some initial letters 
 on cardboard, copied from an old illuminated 
 missal, and this performance I was asked to 
 superintend. This had not been in the 
 bond when the Princess engaged me, but I 
 was only too willing to make frequent visits
 
 46 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 to the schoolroom where the little girls were 
 at work, so long as Lucy was there also. 
 My presence there was never unwelcome, 
 because, as Donna Laura candidly observed, 
 the children improved in talking English at 
 the same time that they worked at their 
 illuminations, both Lucy and I being strictly 
 enjoined never to converse with them but in 
 our own language. 
 
 During all this time I never once found 
 Don Vittorio in the schoolroom. But I saw 
 him occasionally, nevertheless. He would 
 lounge in of a morning to look at our 
 drawings, and to criticise his sister's with 
 fraternal severity. About mine he said 
 nothing, and appeared scarcely to see them. 
 Only once, in an access, as it seemed, of ill- 
 temper, he remarked to Donna Laura that 
 she was a fool to allow her performances to be 
 exhibited in juxtaposition with mine. Donna
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 47 
 
 Laura answered very good-humouredly that 
 she had no pretensions to be an artist like 
 Meess Wilson, who was a favourite pupil of 
 Professor Santi. 
 
 The Princess chanced to overhear these two 
 speeches as she was coming into the paint- 
 ing-room. She chanced to overhear a great 
 many of the speeches made in her house, 
 and I was often struck by the familiar know- 
 ledge she displayed of things said and done 
 out of her presence. On this occasion she 
 gave Don Vittorio a little lecture, saying 
 that Laura had no need to be ashamed of 
 her work, no matter how poor it might be 
 from an artistic point of view, for that her 
 pious motive in doing it rendered it worth 
 something in the eyes of all good persons ; 
 and that, moreover, since the Holy Father 
 himself expressly approved the object of the 
 bazaar, she thought it would be becoming in
 
 48 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 everybody to avoid all spirit of levity in 
 thinking or speaking of it. 
 
 The Princess's manner was very smooth, 
 but I thought I detected a steely hardness 
 underneath the velvet. The expression of 
 her haughty features and dark stern eyes 
 was not in harmony with the pious humility 
 of her words. In short, she seemed to me 
 to be like an able actress determined on 
 playing a part for which nature had not 
 fitted her. In observing her Signor Sandro's 
 words recurred to me : ' They tell me she 
 has taken to devotion in these days.' Her 
 devotion, however, did not interfere with her 
 mundane affairs. She governed her house- 
 hold with a strict rule and the most minute 
 knowledge of details. I do not believe that 
 her cook or her steward could have suc- 
 ceeded in cheating her out of a farthing. 
 If they did peculate, after the manner of
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 49 
 
 their kind, she knew it, and knew the 
 precise extent of their peculations. But if it 
 suited her to apjDear blind to them, she 
 would shut her eyes at the proper moment 
 without the smallest scruple, and with as 
 little compunction would she accuse aud 
 expose the culprit the moment his misdeeds 
 went beyond the limit she had mentally 
 assigned to them as tolerable. I think she 
 carried out this method in dealing with her 
 children. For example, Don Vittorio (who 
 was her favourite) had a great deal of 
 apparent freedom and independence ; but I 
 was persuaded from the first that the 
 Princess kept a certain power in her own 
 hands, and that however long her son's tether 
 might be, still he was tethered. As to the 
 Prince Bastiani-Corleoni, he was, for me, 
 as invisible a potentate as the Mikado of 
 Japan. I heard from others that he was 
 vol. 1. 4
 
 5o AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 a mild-mannered gentleman of handsome 
 presence and orthodox principles, whose chief 
 occupation in life was to audit and pass the 
 accounts prepared for him by his wife in 
 her vigilant management of their estate, 
 and whose chief pastime was shooting 
 over the domain he possessed in a distant 
 part of the Maremma, where the wild birds 
 throve and the peasants languished in the 
 malaria. 
 
 After the little reproof to Don Vittorio 
 which I have mentioned, the Princess turned 
 to me and said, ' Ah, you are a pupil of 
 Sandro Santi ?' (She had known this fact 
 perfectly, long ago.) ' He is a very clever 
 painter, and, I am told, even a better 
 master.' 
 
 ' He is a rabid " Red," ' observed Don 
 Vittorio in a tone of cold contempt. i When 
 we had a government he was banished as
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 51 
 
 dangerous. I suppose now he is considered 
 a shining light — or, at least, no worse than 
 the rest.' 
 
 I took no more heed of this speech than 
 if I had been stone deaf, but went on 
 painting steadily, conscious all the time that 
 the Princess was watching me as steadily. 
 She made a pause before speaking, as though 
 she thought it possible that I might take up 
 the glove thus openly thrown down by her 
 son ; but when she finally spoke she did so 
 in the tone of one answering on an instant 
 impulse : 
 
 1 Oh, my son !' she said, ' do not let us 
 forget Christian charity in our judgment 
 even of those who are misguided enough to 
 rebel against their sovereign and father. 
 What you speak of happened long ago. 
 Perhaps years have brought better counsel 
 to Santi. He is getting old now, and very 
 
 4 — 2 
 
 5«*" M •»**
 
 52 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 likely repents the errors of his youth. Let 
 us hope so.' 
 
 I had an instinctive feeling that she 
 expected this speech to call forth some rejjly 
 from me. But I took no more heed of it 
 than of Don Vittorio's, painting on steadily, 
 with the Princess watching me steadily, as 
 before. 
 
 For the first week she did not talk much 
 to me during her visits to the painting- 
 room. I think she was observing me, and 
 trying to read my character. After a while 
 she began to converse with me, always 
 putting direct questions, and not betraying 
 any annoyance (although I think she felt 
 some) at the laconic brevity of my answers. 
 In this fashion, and by a methodically 
 regular process, she catechized me about 
 my history, and learned the little there was 
 to know — as, for instance, that I had studied
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 53 
 
 drawing in England before my father's death ; 
 that my father had been an architect ; that 
 I had a small yearly income between me and 
 destitution ; that Lucy inherited a sum of 
 two thousand pounds from her mother ; 
 that I hoped to follow the profession of a 
 painter, and had come to Rome with the 
 view of qualifying myself to do so ; and 
 that I had had an introduction to Santi 
 from my old Italian teacher, who knew him 
 years ago. I was amused to find afterwards 
 that she had previously cross-questioned 
 Lucy in precisely the same manner, and had 
 evidently examined me with the intention of 
 comparing and sifting our statements. 
 
 The effect produced on Lucy by this sort 
 of catechism w r as very different from that 
 which it made on me. She accepted the 
 Princess's questioning as a proof of kindly 
 interest in us. And it was true that that
 
 54 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 haughty dame treated Lucy with much 
 more sweetness of manner than she thought 
 it worth while to bestow on me. She had 
 managed to soothe Lucy's natural timidity 
 and to conquer her shyness, and that once 
 done, it was not difficult to win some affection 
 from her. There never was a nature which 
 responded more immediately to the least 
 show of kindness than my sister's. And 
 the facility with which she fell under the 
 influence of those around her was a weak- 
 ness in her character which I was sure the 
 Princess Corleoni had not failed to perceive. 
 And then the query presented itself to my 
 mind, What motive could the Princess have 
 for influencing and attracting Lucy ? 
 
 I puzzled over this riddle, turning and 
 twisting it this way and that, and never 
 coming to a satisfactory solution. A year 
 or two ago I should simply have accepted
 
 MAITRESSE FEMME. 55 
 
 the Princess's kind, caressing manner to my 
 sister as the most natural thing in the world, 
 which needed no explanation. Lucy was 
 used to being petted and spoken softly to 
 from a little child. But my year's residence 
 in Rome had made me suspicious of such 
 behaviour on the part of such a woman 
 as the haughty Princess Olympia, Some- 
 times, however, I went back to my old 
 simple way of looking at things. Why 
 should not the Princess be kind to Lucy 
 solely because she liked the girl's soft ways 
 and sweet looks \ Then again I rejected 
 this idea, and told myself that a thousand 
 minute circumstances tended to show that 
 the Princess was carrying out a line of 
 conduct dictated by calculation rather than 
 feeling. Once or twice the wild notion 
 darted into my mind that the Princess 
 perceived Don Vittorio's admiration for
 
 56 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Lucy, and was inclined to yield to her sons 
 wishes in the matter ; she harped a good 
 deal on Lucy's little fortune, and one day 
 used the phrase, ' a nice dot' or dowry, in 
 speaking of it. But of course such a notion 
 was wild, and not to be entertained in sober 
 seriousness. Poor Lucy's money could not 
 possibly offer any temptations to such people 
 as the Corleonis ; the interest of it would 
 not pay Don Vittorio's tailor for half a year. 
 Besides, she was a girl of no family, giving 
 lessons for pay, a foreigner, and — worse than 
 all — a heretic ! No — no ; the thinsf was 
 too outrageously absurd and improbable, and 
 could only have flitted into a brain weary 
 and perplexed with unavailing ponderings on 
 one subject. 
 
 Before the day of the great bazaar arrived, 
 however, I had got hold of a clue to the 
 enigma.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PIETY. 
 
 When I look back on that period of my 
 employment in the Palazzo Corleoni, it 
 seems to have extended over a long time ; 
 and yet the dates in a little diary, or 
 memorandum-book, which I kept then show 
 that barely three weeks elapsed from the 
 first day to the last of my engagement. 
 But the time seemed long to me then, and 
 seems long in the retrospect, because several 
 incidents of oTeat interest in my life were 
 crowded into it. 
 
 I did not neglect the object which had
 
 58 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 chiefly induced me at first to go to the 
 Palazzo Corleoni — namely, to see for myself 
 what terms Don Vittorio was on with my 
 sister, whether he visited the schoolroom 
 daily, and to watch his behaviour towards 
 Lucy with jealous scrutiny. But it was not 
 possible, of course, that I should devote 
 myself wholly to that object. Having 
 undertaken to make certain drawings, I was 
 bound to execute them to the best of my 
 ability, and honestly to fulfil my part of the 
 bargain by helping and counselling Donna 
 Laura. And besides, as I have said, I was 
 not free to be in my sister's company when- 
 soever it pleased me to seek it. Still, I 
 flattered myself that my opportunities for 
 observation were sufficient to assure me that 
 Don Vittorio took no special pains to see 
 Lucy. And I began to think that I had 
 altogether over-estimated the danger to her
 
 PIETY. 59 
 
 peace of mind from the attention bestowed 
 on her by those handsome, inscrutable, 
 sapphire-tinted eyes. I had refrained from 
 hinting my fears and surmises to Lucy. If 
 she were fancy free it was not for me to 
 trouble the innocent serenity of her mind. 
 If she were indulging in any girlish romance, 
 open interference and opposition might put 
 her into an attitude of antagonism towards 
 me, which would weaken my influence over 
 her, and diminish my means of standing 
 between her and sorrow. 
 
 She talked to me freely enough, when 
 we were at home of an evening, about the 
 Corleonis — about the Princess especially, 
 whose virtues and piety she descanted on at 
 length. And sometimes she would use a 
 phraseology in speaking of them which 
 instantly struck on my ear as being foreign 
 to Lucy's usual way of talking, and which I
 
 60 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 was convinced she had caught and uncon- 
 sciously imitated from somebody. Possibly 
 it was from the Princess herself, I thought, 
 who habitually used a certain pietistic jargon 
 peculiar to her Church. Every Church has 
 its own, I suppose. At least, I knew that 
 such was the case with more than one 
 dissenting sect in my native town, and now 
 I found that the orthodox and strictly 
 Catholic Romans had plenty of sentences 
 and turns of speech ready cut and dried 
 for use in discoursing 1 on religious matters. 
 Some of these were almost as purely 
 technical as Signor Sandro's studio talk, 
 and always suggested to my mind something 
 unpleasantly mechanical and prosaic. Lucy, 
 however, did not feel them to be so. She 
 was less critical — perhaps less hard — than 
 I. Then, too, the Princess's partiality 
 flattered her — simple-hearted child that she
 
 PIETY. 6 1 
 
 was ! And certainly that partiality seemed 
 to increase daily. Lucy was frequently 
 invited to sit with the Princess in her 
 boudoir whilst Donna Laura and I w T ere 
 painting, and she generally was bidden to 
 remain there even during the visits of certain 
 e"xalted personages who were amongst the 
 Princess Olympia's most intimate and valued 
 guests. Such a degree of favour was never 
 extended to me — to my inward thankful- 
 ness ! And why — why, I wondered more 
 and more day by day, was it bestowed on 
 Lucy ? 
 
 One afternoon the Princess entered the 
 painting-room, where her daughter and I 
 were at work, and said with an impressive 
 air, ' Laura, his Eminence would like to see 
 some of your drawings. He is very much 
 interested and pleased to hear that you are 
 working so well for our bazaar. Bring them
 
 62 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 into the boudoir. Madame de Clavigny is 
 there, too.' 
 
 Donna Laura prepared to obey, and began 
 to divest herself of the holland blouse which 
 she wore whilst painting. The Princess 
 turned back to me as if struck by an after- 
 thought, and said, ' Would you like to bring 
 some of your drawings also, Meess "Wilson V 
 
 ' If you will excuse me, madam, I would 
 rather go on with my work. The daylight 
 hours are few and precious.' 
 
 I thought the Princess looked by no 
 means displeased at my refusal. ' As you 
 please, as you please,' she said, with a 
 gracious bend of the head. But Donna 
 Laura, with a good honest inrpulse, insisted 
 that I should come too, and display a pair 
 of hand- screens of my painting, which she 
 thought particularly well executed. ' You 
 know,' said she, ' Madame de Clavigny is
 
 PIETY. 63 
 
 very rich and very fond of buying pretty 
 things, and who knows but she may give 
 you an order for a picture ? You always 
 say you want to earn money. Don't throw 
 away a chance. I shall tell her that you 
 have done the best things and helped me 
 with mine.' 
 
 With all her blunt ness and absence of 
 suavity, I had long ago discovered that 
 Donna Laura had some kindness of heart ; 
 and her character impressed me as being 
 incomparably more lovable than that of any 
 other member of the family with whom I 
 was acquainted. 
 
 1 It is kind of you to consider my interests, 
 Donna Laura,' said I hesitatingly. At that 
 moment I caught a look of annovance on 
 the Princess's face which determined my 
 decision. I am ashamed to own that a 
 sentiment of rebellion against the Princess's
 
 64 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 velvet-gloved iron will was a stronger motive 
 for displaying my work in the boudoir than 
 any hope of selling a picture to Madame de 
 Clavigny. It was childish, perhaps, but I 
 could not help saying to myself, ' You shant 
 have your own way this time ! I'll take 
 you at your word.' So I finished my 
 answer to Donna Laura thus : ' And, as 
 you say, it would be foolish to throw away 
 a chance. I will work an extra half hour 
 for you to-morrow, if I lose a little daylight 
 now.' 
 
 I think that if Donna Laura had been 
 looking at her lady mother's face at that 
 moment she would have repented her rash 
 insistance, for a cloud on that dark brow 
 was a formidable sight to all who lived under 
 the rule of Olympia Corleoni. But the girl 
 was happily unconscious of the cloud on this 
 occasion, and in an instant it had passed
 
 PIETY. 65 
 
 away, and the Princess looked her usual 
 composed and slightly sanctimonious self. 
 
 In the boudoir — an eye-afflicting apart- 
 ment hung with damask of the colour of the 
 yolk of an egg, on which about a dozen 
 vilely-executed copies of well-known pictures 
 by old masters glared from out massive 
 gilt frames — the distinguished company was 
 seated after the fashion of distinguished 
 companies in thoroughly Italian houses — 
 that is to say, the chairs were all ranged in 
 a formal semi-circle, as if someone were 
 presently expected to ' address the meeting.' 
 The company on this occasion was very 
 distinguished — all but one member of it. 
 The undistinguished member was my little 
 Lucy. I caught sight of her curly head 
 directly I went in, just visible behind and 
 above the black velvet and sables which 
 covered the portly person of Madame de 
 
 vol. 1. 5
 
 66 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Clavigny. This lady was the wife of a 
 diplomat accredited to the Vatican, and was 
 a leading personage in the orthodox and 
 aristocratic circles of Roman society. Next 
 to her, enthroned in the most comfortable 
 armchair in the room, sat a tall, thin, 
 hatchet-faced old gentleman in black eccle- 
 siastical garb. His lean old hands, partly 
 encased in knitted woollen mittens, were 
 crossed on his knee, and his lean old legs in 
 scarlet stockings were crossed one over 
 the other, and his watery blue eyes looked 
 very mild and not a little stupid. And 
 this was his Eminence the Cardinal Zampini, 
 Archbishop of Borgofosco, and a reverend 
 pillar of the Church. Near to him, just 
 the least trifle behind him, and within easy 
 reach of his Eminence's ear, sat one who 
 looked neither mild nor stupid — a certain 
 Monsignor Chiappaforti, well known in more
 
 PIETY. 67 
 
 than one social sphere of the Eternal City. 
 Monsignore was at present in attendance on 
 the Cardinal — told off, as it were, to be 
 aide-de-camp to that aged major-general of 
 the Church Militant during the latter' s stay 
 in Rome ; for his Eminence did not reside 
 in the capital, but had temporarily deprived 
 his flock at Borgofosco of the light of his 
 countenance, having some business to trans- 
 act at the Vatican. Chiappaforti's round, 
 smooth- shaven, good-humoured face was very 
 attractive at first sight to many persons. 
 The quality I have most frequently heard 
 attributed to him was bonhomie. ' Mon- 
 signor Chiappaforti's manners have such a 
 delightful bonhomie about them !' And he 
 was undoubtedly quick-witted and well- 
 educated. He laughed a great deal — a low, 
 musical, seemingly spontaneous laugh. I 
 say ' seemingly spontaneous,' because I am 
 
 5 — 2
 
 68 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 persuaded that he was a great deal too 
 clever and sarcastic to be really ingenuously 
 amused and delighted by half the things he 
 laughed at with that air of almost infantine 
 heartiness. 
 
 The conversation was being carried on in 
 French in honour of Madame de Clavigny, 
 who could speak nothing else. His Eminence 
 did not shine particularly in the linguistic 
 line, albeit we were told that he had passed 
 many years in Belgium. But Monsignore 
 spoke French very fluently, and English, 
 and, I was told, German also, and he helped 
 out the old Cardinal whenever he boogied 
 for a word. In fact, he helped out every- 
 one who showed any tendency to boggle, 
 and altogether drove his heterogeneous team 
 into whatsoever conversational highways or 
 by-ways it pleased him to follow, with the 
 ease and skill of an accomplished whip. It
 
 PIETY. 69 
 
 must have been a hard-mouthed brute, in- 
 deed, that he could not manage, or at least 
 one very resolutely and earnestly bent on 
 going in a direction opposite to that in 
 which Monsignore would fain guide him. 
 
 On the present occasion everyone was 
 willing to talk about the same topic — the 
 forthcoming bazaar, namely. I, as a mere 
 supernumerary figure in the ycene, was able 
 to observe it all at my ease. Donna Laura, 
 after having kissed his Eminence's hand — 
 an action which, from a gfirl of her age to a 
 white-haired pastor of her Church, seemed 
 to me graceful and pretty — proceeded to 
 display her screens and fans and cardboard 
 boxes before his reverend countenance whilst 
 he sat still in his chair. Poor old gentle- 
 man ! He did his best to seem pleased, but 
 a more lack-lustre eye than that with which 
 he contemplated the various objects held up
 
 7o AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 before him one after the other it never was 
 my lot to see. ' Very pretty, very pretty. 
 Ah ! you are very clever ; yes, yes. Very 
 clever, indeed !' These phrases he repeated 
 over and over again in his mild, quavering 
 old voice. And, on the whole, I don't 
 know that he could have said anything 
 better. But Monsignore was a different sort 
 of critic. His bravas were also profuse, but 
 not so absolutely indiscriminating as those 
 of his Eminence, and he interspersed them 
 with neat little appreciative remarks on the 
 various subjects portrayed, which somehow 
 half persuaded even me that he took a lively 
 interest in the whole affair. 
 
 After a while it came to the turn of my 
 drawings to be exhibited. True to her word, 
 Donna Laura specially called Madame de 
 Clavigny's attention to them, and un- 
 grudgingly gave me full credit for all I
 
 PIETY. 71 
 
 had clone to help her. My pictures had 
 also the honour to be submitted to the gaze 
 of the Cardinal. I was sorry for him, so 
 evidently was he bored and bewildered by 
 this second tax on his complaisance and 
 patience. But here again Monsignore came 
 nobly to the rescue. He was pleased to 
 praise my drawings in the most flattering 
 terms. And after one very flowery eulogium 
 he surprised me greatly by saying, ' I am 
 all the more delighted that this good work 
 should have been done by the sister of our 
 dear Signorina Lucia.' And at the same 
 time Lucy gave him a look of the most 
 beaming gratitude. Nothing delighted her 
 more than to hear me praised. It was a 
 sure way to her favour. Her pleased look, 
 therefore, was not surprising, but it was to 
 me both surprising and puzzling to find her 
 accepting the epithet of ' our dear Signorina
 
 72 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Lucia ' from Monsignor Chiappaforti as a 
 natural and accustomed form of speech. So 
 absorbed was she in gazing on Monsignore 
 with her trusting, innocent, grateful blue 
 eyes that she did not observe my astonish- 
 ment. Monsignore, however, observed it, 
 and he at once repeated the words ' our dear 
 Signorina Lucia,' looking amiably across at 
 me. Then he bent a little closer to the 
 Cardinal's ear and whispered a few sentences 
 into it, of which sentences the sibilant words 
 ' Sandro Santi ' were all that I caught. 
 Monsignore's eyes were inscrutably cast 
 down whilst he whispered, but his Eminence 
 instantly honoured me with an attentive, 
 and not particularly benevolent, stare. 
 
 When Lucy and I were at home that 
 evening, I said to her that I had been 
 surprised to hear Monsignor Chiappaforti 
 speak of her and to her in so familiar and
 
 PIETY. 73 
 
 affectionate a strain, to which she answered 
 that he was the most kind and amiable of 
 beings, and treated her rather as if she were 
 a daughter of the house of Corleoni than as 
 a poor teacher who worked there for pay, 
 and that in all his ways and words he 
 presented an edifying and touching example 
 of Christian charity. And the Cardinal — 
 was he not a dear, venerable old man ? 
 Would I not admit that he was ? I replied 
 that, as to the Cardinal, I did not know 
 enough of him to say whether he were 
 ' dear ' or ' venerable,' but that for the 
 moment I was not concerned to discuss 
 that Prince of the Church. Lucy, however, 
 still harped on his Eminence's venerable looks. 
 1 And I noticed,' said she, ' that you 
 curtsied to him very reverently when you 
 left the room, Catherine. I was so glad to 
 see it !'
 
 74 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ' To have done otherwise would have 
 been gross ill-manners, Lucy mine ; but I 
 assure you that my curtsy was not intended 
 as a tribute to Cardinal Zampini's moral 
 worth, about which I know absolutely 
 nothing. I should have treated a Mandarin 
 with just the same respect if I had been 
 presented to him in a Pekin drawing-room 
 by a Princess of the Celestial Empire !' 
 
 ' Oh, Catherine !' 
 
 1 Oh, Lucy !' 
 
 ' I wish you wouldn't talk so, Catty 
 dear.' 
 
 ' How is it that you have scarcely ever 
 mentioned Monsignor Chiappaforti's name 
 to me, and yet have become quite a dear 
 friend of his, as it seems V 
 
 1 I fancied — it seemed to me as if you — 
 you disliked all the Princess's friends when- 
 ever I did mention them. And I think —
 
 PIETY. 75 
 
 I do think you are prejudiced against the 
 Catholic clergy, Catherine. Perhaps Signor 
 Santi puts it into your head. He is a 
 Republican, I know ; and I am afraid he 
 has no religion.' 
 
 This speech made me very grave. It 
 was something new that Lucy should pur- 
 posely avoid any topic with me. We differed 
 by temperament, and the very constitution 
 of our minds, on a hundred subjects ; but 
 we had hitherto discussed together whatever 
 came into our heads with the freest con- 
 fidence. For some time past I had felt the 
 presence of a kind of veil between my young 
 sister's mind and my own, although she was 
 as gentle and affectionate towards me as 
 ever. And a few days later I had another 
 proof of it. I chanced to see in Lucy's 
 bedroom — we occupied two tiny sleeping 
 chambers, little more than closets, one on
 
 76 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 each side of the sitting-room — a large 
 photograph of one of the well-known 
 Madonnas of Giovanni Bellini. It was 
 placed upright on the chest of drawers and 
 caught my eye at once. 
 
 ' That is a charming picture,' said I. 
 ' Where did you get it, Lucy ?' 
 
 ' The Princess gave it to me.' 
 
 ' The Princess Corleoni ? You must be 
 in favour ! I never heard of her giving 
 anything to anybody. Why didn't you show 
 it to me ?' 
 
 Lucy coloured and hesitated, but she 
 answered at length plainly enough that she 
 was afraid I might say something sarcastic , 
 or might turn her picture into ridicule. 
 
 '/turn Giovanni Bellini into ridicule 1' 
 
 ' No ; not Giovanni Bellini, Catherine, 
 but the Madonna.' 
 
 All at once a light flashed in on me at
 
 PIETY. 11 
 
 those words, which made everything clear in 
 a moment. They were trying to convert 
 her ! But why — why ? 
 
 Signor Sandro found an instant solution 
 to this question when I hinted to him my 
 suspicion (it was, indeed, far more than a 
 suspicion), and told him how unhappy it 
 made me. 
 
 ' Ah, gia t he said very quietly, ' Lucia 
 has fifty thousand lire of her own. A very 
 nice little dowry to enter a religious house 
 with.' 
 
 I lay awake for hours that night with an 
 aching heart.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 POLICY. 
 
 Signor Sandro's advice was to watch and 
 wait ; to lay secret trains for the discovery 
 and exposure of the plot against Lucy's 
 little patrimony (he refused to consider the 
 matter in any other light), and then to 
 spring a mine and blow up the plotters with 
 a theatrical and virtue-protected-and- villainy- 
 discovered kind of denouement. He grew 
 brisk and eager, was full of schemes, talked 
 of renewing half- forgotten relations with 
 this person and that person who might prove 
 useful, and, in a word, the old conspirator in
 
 POLICY. 79 
 
 him was thoroughly re-awakened. He had 
 passed the prime of his early manhood in 
 conspiracy — always from patriotic motives, 
 which approved themselves to his conscience, 
 at least — and had grown to think conspiracy 
 the proper method of fighting evil things, 
 whether in high places or low places. He 
 could not understand my point of view when 
 I told him that what chiefly pained me was 
 to find that Lucy had begun to withdraw 
 her full confidence from me. As to her be- 
 coming a Catholic, that alone did not seem 
 to me so great a misfortune. 
 
 ' Pshaw, Caterina,' said Signor Sandro, 
 ' you don't know what you are talking about. 
 They'll never rest till they get her money ; 
 and the only way to secure it, is to make her 
 enter this pet sisterhood of theirs. Don't 
 you know what their grand bazaar is really 
 for ? To get funds to buy a house and
 
 So AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 grounds for their nuns. It's illegal, you 
 say ? Oh, there are ways of evading the 
 law, never fear. They have plenty of clever 
 heads among them.' 
 
 ' It may be, master, that poor Lucy's 
 little fortune has nothing to do with the 
 zeal of the Princess and her friends. I have 
 no right to say that they are conscienceless 
 in the matter. They may be sincerely 
 anxious to secure Lucy's eternal welfare.' 
 
 ' Why are they not anxious to secure 
 your eternal welfare ? A soul is a soul, eh ? 
 And yet they have not made the slightest 
 effort at converting you !' 
 
 This was an argument which certainly had 
 some weight. For to answer that I was 
 not so sweet and interesting a person as 
 Lucy would scarcely have been a good 
 reason for the indifference of devout persons 
 as to my conversion from error !
 
 POLICY. 8 1 
 
 I was silent, and Signoi* Sandro went on 
 triumphantly, ' Ay, ay ; you get somebody 
 to leave you fifty thousand lire, and you'll 
 find Monsignor Chiappaforti's interest in the 
 state of your soul will spring up like a 
 mushroom.' Then he proceeded to enter 
 into a variety of stratagems for unmasking' 
 the real purposes of Monsignor Chiappaforti, 
 and exhibiting him before Lucy's eyes in his 
 true colours. Signor Sandro especially 
 hated Monsignore, and considered him to be 
 the originator of the scheme for Lucy's con- 
 version. The Princess he spoke of far less 
 harshly. She was not a bad woman : a 
 bigot, of course, and under the influence of 
 the priests ; but not a hard-hearted woman. 
 I wondered, as I listened to him, whether 
 any remembrance of the Princess Olympia's 
 youthful beauty, thirty years ago, availed to 
 soften my old master's judgment of her. If 
 vol. i. 6
 
 82 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 it were so, I am sure he did not know it. 
 But I had my suspicions that the Princess's 
 splendid eyes, and rich black tresses, and 
 Juno-like figure — ' the true Roman type !' 
 Signor Sandro would exclaim enthusiastically, 
 1 the true Roman type !' — were somehow ac- 
 counted to her for righteousness. 
 
 After my first talk with my old friend on 
 the subject, I lay awake for hours, as I have 
 said, revolving painful thoughts. But the 
 night brought counsel, and when I went to 
 the studio early next morning I was resolved 
 how to act. I would speak out plainly 
 and straightforwardly to Lucy, and to the 
 Princess, and to Monsignore himself, if I 
 had the chance. Plots and counterplots 
 should be thrown to the winds ; and if 
 there was to be war, I, at least, would not 
 carry it on in ambuscade. 
 
 My firmness was put to the test instantly,
 
 POLICY. S S 
 
 for Sio*nor Sandro scouted the idea of this 
 course of action, and opposed it vehemently. 
 1 You are a fool, Caterina !' said he, shaking 
 his brush at me indignantly ; ' a blundering 
 fool r 
 
 ' Thanks, master.' 
 
 1 Thanks, master,' he exclaimed, trying to 
 mimic my quiet tone in one of lively irrita- 
 tion. ' I say that if you go on as you say, 
 you'll lose your sister altogether. You 
 don't know these people — I do.' 
 
 1 But I know my sister.' 
 
 ' Ta, ta, ta ! A little white mouse ! 
 What do you think she can do against such 
 a wily old fox as Giacomo Chiappaforti ? 
 I tell you, you must match cunning with 
 cunning.' 
 
 • I can't do it, master.' 
 
 1 You ? No. You're as blunt as a bar- 
 barian ! But let me do it for you.' 
 
 6 — 2
 
 8 4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ' No, master, I must do what I think 
 right.' 
 
 ' You think ? Isn't it enough to raise 
 the bile of a stone to hear her talk ?' cried 
 Signor Sandro. And he gradually worked 
 himself up into such a violent passion that 
 he fairly danced about the studio, inveighing 
 against my obstinacy and stupidity, and 
 knocking over the mannikin on which I had 
 carefully arranged some crimson drapery the 
 day before. I let him work off his fiery 
 temper a little in these performances, and 
 then I said : ' Listen, master : I know you 
 are full of kind interest in me and Lucy. 
 I am not ungrateful ' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! Ungrateful ? What an idea { 
 Only you are as obstinate as a mule, and 
 intend to take your own way — gratefully.' 
 
 1 Please to hear me — I have heard you. 
 I don't believe in lies ; be the intention
 
 POLICY. 85 
 
 what it may, good or bad, wise or foolish, 
 I have no faith in the power of lies to help 
 anyone. Your own proverb says, " A lie 
 hath short legs." ' 
 
 Signer Sandro sat down at his easel with 
 his back to me and pretended to be absorbed 
 in painting a bit of background. I went on, 
 nothing daunted : 
 
 ' Xow, if I pretend not to see what is 
 going on with Lucy and these people at the 
 Palazzo Corleoni, I shall be lying to all 
 intents and purposes. I have lied in that 
 way already by holding my tongue about ' 
 
 I paused, and I saw Signor Sandro's head 
 turn a very little in a listening attitude, 
 'Well,' said I, 'I cannot explain to you what 
 the matter was, but I had a suspicion, and 
 I smothered it up, and waited and watched, 
 on your plan, and no good has come of it. 
 I dare say a frank word would have set it
 
 86 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 all right. Any way, I have thought about 
 the matter to the best of my ability, and 
 I have made up my mind to be absolutely 
 sincere. We despise wiles and tricks and 
 crooked ways — don't let us follow them ! I 
 never heard of but one way to shame the 
 devil, and that is to tell the truth.' 
 
 The background on which Signor Sandro 
 was at work was assuming a very extra- 
 ordinary appearance. I knew that his 
 attention was wholly given to my words, 
 although he still feigned to be painting in a 
 rapt absorption. I went close up to him 
 and laid my hand on his shoulder. ' Come, 
 master,' said I, ' forgive my plain speaking. 
 I'm a blunt barbarian, as you say, but don't 
 hate me for that.' 
 
 For an instant he remained still, stiff, and 
 mute. Then all of a sudden he put up one 
 hand to touch mine, which lay on his shoulder,
 
 POLICY. 87 
 
 and took a noisy pinch of snuff with the 
 other. ' Hate you, Caterina V he said, 
 with a little break in his voice. ' No. You 
 are a fool — remember I said so — but I don't 
 hate you for it. I don't know — I don't 
 know but I almost like you the better for 
 it ; but that's because I'm a fool, too.' 
 
 Dear, kind, noble -hearted, irascible old 
 master ! All the prejudices of early educa- 
 tion, and the unfortunate influences of a 
 youth embittered by secret struggles against 
 injustice, could not stifle the natural loyalty 
 and affection of his character. 
 
 That afternoon I spoke to Lucy plainly. 
 I told her that I fancied she was inclined to 
 be attracted by the Roman Catholic religion, 
 and that on that subject I should not then 
 argue with her ; but that it hurt me to 
 think she should conceal her mind from me. 
 
 And I beowd her to return to her old 
 
 00
 
 SS AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 frank confidence, promising, on my side, to 
 be equally unreserved with her. She looked 
 greatly startled at first — almost scared. 
 And then, with a gush of tears, she threw 
 her arms round my neck, exclaiming, < Oh, 
 Catherine, I am so glad to be able to speak 
 to you. I wanted to tell you long* ago.' 
 ' And why,' said I quickly, ' did you not V 
 She was silent, hiding her tear-stained 
 face on my shoulder. In vain I repeated 
 my question, coaxing and begging her to 
 reply. Then I spoke more severely, asking 
 if that were a specimen of the confidence 
 she had seemed so glad to give me. Upon 
 this she raised her head, and there was a 
 look of perplexity and distress on her 
 innocent young face which pained me 
 greatly. 
 
 ' Catherine,' she said, ' a promise is sacred. 
 Do not press me with questions I cannot
 
 POLICY. 89 
 
 answer. I am bound by a promise. You 
 would not wish me to break my word V 
 
 1 No,' said I. (But I am almost afraid 
 that I did wish it.) ' Only, my dear Lucy, 
 make no more such promises, I implore 
 you !' 
 
 We talked a long while after that. Lucy 
 seemed, in truth, overjoyed to be able to 
 speak of her religious feelings to me. They 
 were pure feelings : innocent, devout, and 
 loving. There was not a trace of guile, or 
 affected piety or exaggeration about any- 
 thing she said. Despite my old master's 
 hatred and mistrust of Monsignor Chiappa- 
 forti, Signor Sandro himself would have 
 been obliged to confess that the reverend 
 prelate's teaching had not, at least as yet, 
 tainted the ingenuousness of my Lucy's 
 nature. And throughout all she said there 
 was not a hint at any such purpose of
 
 go AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 securing 1 her little dowry for the sisterhood 
 a.s Signor Sandro suspected. Just before 
 we parted for the night I took her pretty 
 head between my hands, and, stroking down 
 the wavy, bright brown locks, I said : 
 
 ' But, little Lucy, they must not make a 
 nun of you, and cut off all this curly wig 
 I am so fond of 
 
 She laughed like a child. 
 
 ' Make a nun of me, Catherine ! Oh, 
 my dear, you little know how far short I 
 fall of the standard of goodness needed for 
 that holy life. Besides, I don't think such 
 an idea has entered anyone's head.' 
 
 I at once and unreservedly believed that 
 it had not entered her head, at all events. 
 My heart was greatly lightened when I lay 
 down in my bed that night, and I was more 
 than ever resolved to carry out that best of 
 all policies — honesty — in all my future deal-
 
 POLICY. 91 
 
 ings. I did not desire, truly, that Lucy 
 should become a Roman Catholic. But 
 that idea did not inspire me with any pious 
 horror. What had seemed terrible to me 
 was the thought that Lucy would be weaned 
 from her old confiding love for me. I was 
 her only friend and guardian. Our brother 
 was in another hemisphere, and we two 
 were alone in a foreign country, and all our 
 strength and comfort and safeguard lay in 
 our mutual trust and affection. To have 
 that undermined would be almost as great 
 a misfortune for us both as I could well 
 imagine. But it had not been undermined, 
 and it should not be. My mind was more 
 serene and untroubled than it had been since 
 the first dav of my entering the Palazzo 
 Corleoni.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A TUG-0F-WAR. 
 
 In the course of the past year Lucy and I 
 had paid a short visit to Tivoli, and had 
 been so enchanted with the place that we 
 both greatly desired to spend a longer time 
 there and explore the surrounding country. 
 We had made a plan — after due examination 
 of our budget and discussion of ways and 
 means — to go to Tivoli again early in the 
 spring and stay there at least three weeks. 
 I was to make the jaunt pay for itself in 
 some measure, by working at a picture 
 which had been haunting my fancy for some
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 
 
 93 
 
 time ; and Lucy had looked forward with 
 eagerness to the holiday and change of 
 scene. 
 
 For some weeks past neither of us had 
 mentioned the subject, but now I had a 
 strong additional motive, besides the ex- 
 pected pleasure of our trip, for wishing to 
 go away from Rome for a time, and to make 
 a break in that habit of almost daily inter- 
 course with the Corleonis which I knew 
 had strongly helped to bring Lucy's flexible 
 nature under the Princess's influence. I 
 proposed to my sister to make our trip to 
 Tivoli immediately after the completion of 
 my work for Donna Laura. I should have 
 finished what I had undertaken to do by 
 the end of that same week. Why should 
 we not set off at once ? 
 
 1 So soon, Catherine V said Lucy doubt- 
 fully.
 
 94 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ' Why not ? Next Saturday will be the 
 last day but one of March. It is a lovely 
 time for the country.' 
 
 ' Will it not be cold there ?' 
 
 ' I think not. You know we were there 
 last year quite at the beginning of April, 
 and the weather was delightful.' 
 
 1 It seems rather sudden. Why are you 
 in such haste to go, Catherine ?' 
 
 ' I might answer that I want to get to 
 work on my picture, that the aspect of the 
 landscape at this season is precisely what I 
 require for my background, and that I feel 
 the change of scene would be good for my 
 health. All these answers would be true in 
 themselves, but yet they would not give you 
 my strongest motive for wishing to go away 
 at once. I shall tell you the whole truth, 
 Lucy : I especially desire to take you for a 
 time out of reach of the Princess and Mod-
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 95 
 
 signor Chiappaforti and their circle. If 
 their teachings are worth anything, they 
 will stand the test of a fortnight's peaceful 
 and unbiased meditation. It shall be un- 
 biased, so far as I am concerned, for I give 
 you my word not to enter into the discussion 
 of any religious subjects whatever whilst we 
 are away.' 
 
 Nothing more was said at that time. 
 The next morning we were both employed 
 at the Palazzo Corleoni, and in the afternoon 
 Lucy timidly said to me that she did not 
 think she should be able to go to Tivoli so 
 soon as I wished. 
 
 ' Why not ?' I asked. 
 
 ' I do not think I shall be able to get a 
 holiday from my lessons to Francesca and 
 Li via.' 
 
 1 I will see to that.' 
 
 1 The Princess is very unwilling that
 
 96 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 their English studies should be inter- 
 rupted.' 
 
 ' I suppose that events sometimes happen 
 in spite of the Princess's unwillingness. I 
 wish very much — very much — that you 
 should o-o with me to Tivoli at the end of 
 March. I have honestly told you all my 
 reasons for wishing you to go. Whether 
 the Princess has with equal honesty stated 
 all her reasons for wishing you to stay, I 
 don't know. But I think you will not 
 refuse to please me, Lucy. I have not 
 often asked you to sacrifice your wishes to 
 mine.' 
 
 ' My own dear Catherine, I would do 
 anything I could to please you, indeed — 
 indeed. I will go, Catty ! I will go — if I 
 may.' 
 
 I had an uneasy suspicion that this ' if I 
 may ' did not refer solely to the Princess's
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 97 
 
 consent that Francesca and Livia should 
 have a fortnight's holiday from their English 
 lessons. Had matters gone so far that Lucy 
 was in subjection to Monsignor Chiappa- 
 forti's will as to her going or staying ? I 
 was resolved to keep the straightforward 
 path I had marked for myself, and after a 
 minute's reflection I told Lucy that I should 
 take an early opportunity of speaking to 
 Monsignore himself on the subject. 
 
 ' Shall you, Catherine ?' she said, looking 
 at me with wide-open eyes and an air half 
 of alarm, half of admiration at my boldness. 
 But she made no attempt to dissuade me. 
 
 It w r as very well to talk of taking an 
 early opportunity of speaking to Monsignore, 
 but how was I to get at him ? I was not 
 acquainted with his haunts and his habits ; 
 and nothing would be easier than for the 
 Princess Corleoni to prevent me from meeting 
 
 vol. 1. 7
 
 98 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 him in her house, if she were so minded. 
 It came into my head that Donna Laura 
 might help me ; and the inspiration proved 
 to be a good one, for she at once said that 
 she believed Monsignore came to the Palazzo 
 every afternoon about three o'clock on busi- 
 ness connected with the bazaar, and that if I 
 Avished to speak with him she would let him 
 know it, and ask him to receive me. No 
 sooner said than done. She walked straight 
 into her* mother's boudoir, and returned in a 
 few minutes saying that Monsignore was 
 alone and would be happy to see me. 
 
 I found him seated at the Princess's 
 writing-table with a bundle of letters before 
 him and several packets of tickets. There 
 were also some printed circulars respecting 
 the great bazaar, setting forth its object, 
 and giving a list of the ladies who had con- 
 sented to patronize it and hold stalls. The
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 99 
 
 reverend gentleman had apparently been 
 correcting these forms for the printer, for 
 the one which lay before him had several 
 marks on the margin of it. 
 
 i Good -morning — good -morning, Signor- 
 ina,' said he, with a very gracious bow 
 and pleasant smile. ' Here I am busy at 
 the " great work," you see. Upon my word, 
 I shall be glad when this affair is over. You 
 have no idea of the amount of my time it 
 has occupied. Let us hope that we shall do 
 some good by it after all. I am in good 
 hopes for the result. Our ladies have been 
 exemplary — exemplary in their zeal. And 
 I'm sure we have to thank you immensely 
 for Will you not take a seat V 
 
 He was very easy, very smiling, very 
 loquacious. He looked at me with an un- 
 conscious, genial air, as if he had not a 
 project in the world deeper than the selling 
 
 7—2
 
 ioo AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 of many tickets for the charitable Fancy 
 Fair, nor a suspicion that I could have any- 
 thing disagreeable to say to him. 
 
 ' Monsignore,' said I, 'I know you are 
 always busy, and I should not have intruded 
 on your time ' 
 
 ' No intrusion, Signorina,' he interrupted, 
 with a bow and the most beaming of smiles. 
 
 ' Well, I mean that I should not have 
 asked to speak with you except from a 
 strong and serious motive. And now you 
 have been so kind as to give me the oppor- 
 tunity of doing so, I will try to spare your 
 time and my own by being brief and speaking 
 to the point, without compliments. ' 
 
 1 Admirable !' he murmured, almost as if 
 he were speaking to himself. ' Ah, my dear 
 young lady, I wish more of your amiable sex 
 had your good sense and consideration. I 
 have had a long and extensive experience of
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 101 
 
 the female character — a beautiful character, 
 full of qualities which command our tender- 
 ness and respect — but I must own that the 
 feminine intellect, so far as my observation 
 goes, has a tendency to be discursive. Want 
 of concentration — eh V And Monsignore 
 laughed his child-like laugh as if he were 
 heartily amused, although, in truth, I could 
 see nothing specially humorous in what he 
 had said. 
 
 1 Monsignore, you have acquired a great 
 influence over my sister Lucy. You want 
 to convert her to Roman Catholicism ; I 
 want her not to be converted. But I am 
 no bigot, and I do not pretend to say that I 
 should break iny heart if she were received 
 into your Church to-morrow.' 
 
 Monsignore had leant back in his chair 
 when I began to speak, and with his hands 
 calmly folded on the table before him, and
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 his eyes cast down, nodded gently at each 
 sentence, as who should say, ' I am giving 
 you all my attention.' I thought the last 
 clause somewhat surprised him, however, 
 although the expression of surprise which 
 passed over his features — if, indeed, I had 
 rightly read it as such — was but mo- 
 mentary. 
 
 ' That,' said he very softly, ' is a weakness 
 inherent in heresy, which you, my dear 
 young lady, have the noble candour to 
 acknowledge, but to which many Protestants 
 are blind. Once cast yourself loose from 
 the anchor of infallible authority, and you 
 drift about in endless uncertainty. It must 
 ever be with very different feelings from 
 those which you own to, that a Catholic 
 could behold one he loved leaving the true 
 Church for any other.' 
 
 ' Monsignore, I have taken to heart your
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 103 
 
 words about the discursiveness of the female 
 intellect, and I mean to stick to the point.' 
 
 * Brava /' he murmured very blandly. 
 But the quick glance he shot at me was 
 scarcely so bland. 
 
 1 The point is this : I wish my sister 
 Lucy to accompany me on a short visit to 
 Tivoli at the end of this month ; she has 
 expressed her willingness to do so, " if she 
 may ;" and I, surmising her consent to be 
 contingent on yours, have come to ask 
 whether you mean to oppose her going, and 
 if so, why.' 
 
 ' Really, my dear young lady, you surprise 
 me ! Why should you suppose that / wish 
 to oppose your sister's going to Tivoli ? 
 Now, why f Pray tell me. I am quite 
 curious to know.' And again Monsignore 
 laughed very sweetly. 
 
 ' It is scarcely worth while, Monsignore,
 
 104 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 to waste your time in giving all the reasons 
 which induced me ' 
 
 ' Ah now, pray tell me. I assure you I 
 am quite in the dark. And as to wasting 
 my time, I have now some half-hour of 
 leisure.' 
 
 ' But I have not, Monsignore. I must 
 return to Donna Laura.' 
 
 ' Oh, come, come, Signorina ! You must 
 not balk my curiosity. Donna Laura is 
 not such a tyrant. Besides, I will give you 
 plenary absolution for robbing her of a few 
 minutes, ha, ha, ha !' 
 
 I found there was no hope of inducing 
 him to answer my question until I had first 
 answered his. So, as briefly and directly 
 as I could, I told him that I had gathered 
 from Lucy's manner that someone who 
 strongly influenced her opposed her going 
 to Tivoli ; that I did not believe this person
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 105 
 
 to be the Princess, or at least I did not 
 belie v r e the Princess to be acting without 
 superior orders in the matter ; and that I 
 had guessed the real opponent to be Mon- 
 signor Chiappaforti, and his object to be 
 that of preventing the impression he had 
 made on my sister's mind from being 
 weakened by a fortnight's absence, and by 
 the influence of an heretical sister to whom 
 she was attached. 
 
 ' Upon my word, Signorina, you are more 
 frank than flattering ! You are making me 
 out a sort of Macchiavelli — as you English 
 understand Macchiavelli. Now I should 
 have thought, Miss Wilson, that your 
 strength of mind would have been superior 
 to the vulgar prejudices in vogue amongst 
 some of your countrymen. You have been 
 tl linking of me as a sort of bugbear — the 
 type of the "Jesuit priest" whom your
 
 106 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Evangelical clergymen discourse about in 
 Exeter Hall. You surprise me — you sur- 
 prise me very much.' 
 
 I believed that I had surprised him ; but 
 I did not believe that it was my opinion of 
 himself which surprised him, nor even my 
 bluntness in expressing it. There was 
 evidently something else which puzzled him. 
 And all the while he was talking about 
 Macchiavelli and Jesuits, I felt convinced 
 that he attached no importance to what he 
 was saying, but had his mind full of some 
 other thought. 
 
 ' Well, now, Monsignore, I have answered 
 your question ; will you answer mine ? Do 
 you mean to persuade Lucy not to go to 
 Tivoli V 
 
 ' Tut, tut ! / persuade her ! Suppose, 
 
 however, I were to say " Yes." What 
 then V
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 107 
 
 1 Then I should be frightened ; because I 
 should take it as a proof that you were 
 resolved to separate Lucy from me to the 
 utmost of your power.' 
 
 ' You frightened ! The strong-minded 
 Miss Wilson frightened ! You are pleased 
 to laugh at me, my dear young lady.' 
 
 ' I am far enough from laughing, Mon- 
 signore. I should be frightened. And if I 
 were thoroughly frightened, I should run 
 away.' 
 
 I had certainly surprised him now, at any 
 rate. There was no affectation in the tone 
 of astonishment with which he re-echoed my 
 words. 
 
 ' Run away !' he exclaimed, staring at 
 me. 
 
 ' Run away. I should run away to 
 England. I should give up everything here 
 — my lessons, my career, my studies, all
 
 108 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 that I love in Rome — and I should go 
 home without hesitation, taking Lucy with 
 me. 1 
 
 Monsignore rose from his chair and came 
 towards me with an amiable and sympa- 
 thizing expression of countenance. 
 
 ' My dear child,' he said, ' do not distress 
 yourself. I see you really are in earnest.' 
 (I was then neither more nor less in earnest 
 than I had been from the beginning of our 
 interview.) ' I honour your affection for 
 your sister and your almost maternal care 
 of her. Lucia has told me how you have 
 devoted yourself to her. You cannot 
 seriously suppose that I wish to divide you 
 from your sister. Xo, no ; rather would it 
 be my fervent desire to bring you with her 
 into the safe fold. But I tell you at once 
 that I have never dissuaded Lucia from 
 accompanying you to Tivoli. Her going or
 
 A TUG-OF-WAR. 109 
 
 staying does not in the least depend upon 
 me. How should it ?' 
 
 ' Will you give me your authority to tell 
 Lucy that you do not oppose her going V 
 
 ' Certainly ! freely, gladly ! I believe it 
 would be a very good thing for her. She 
 looks a little thin and pale, don't you think 
 
 so ? If she had asked mv advice on the 
 
 ./ 
 
 subject, I should at once have said " Go !" 
 But she never said a word about it to me.' 
 
 1 If you had been so kind as to tell me so 
 sooner, Monsignore, I might have spared 
 you much useless talking.' 
 
 1 Don't think of that, don't think of that ! 
 The truth is, I could hardly at first believe 
 you serious in your little attack on me. 
 I'm not a Macchiavelli nor a Jesuit after 
 the model of Exeter Hall. Well, well, you 
 will learn to know me better one day. 
 Meanwhile, I admire your candour, I assure
 
 no AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 you. And don't distress yourself, my dear 
 child, about being separated from your 
 sister. We are not monsters, we poor 
 priests, in spite of Exeter Hall, ha, ha, ha !' 
 I hurried away as quickly as I could, and 
 went straight to the schoolroom to give 
 Lucy the news. I did not believe Chiappa- 
 forti's statement that he had never opposed 
 her visit to Tivoli. But at least he had 
 distinctly consented to it now, and that was 
 the chief thing with me. I burst into the 
 schoolroom unceremoniously. Lucy looked 
 up, startled to see me at that unaccustomed 
 hour. But she was not more startled than 
 I was when I saw Don Vittorio CorleonI 
 seated beside her at the school-table.
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 ART AND NATURE. 
 
 Don Vittorio had receded into the dim 
 background of my thoughts. I had satisfied 
 myself that whatever admiration he had felt 
 for Lucy was a mere passing fancy, and that 
 he had soon grown tired of bringing English 
 letters to the schoolroom to be translated. 
 And my mind had been too full of the 
 subject of Lucy's conversion to have room 
 for him. All the more was I startled and 
 vexed to find him seated familiarly at my 
 sister s elbow. 
 
 Lucy's face was covered with a deep,
 
 ii2 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 sudden blush. Don Vittorio rose very 
 calmly, and made me his usual formal bow, 
 with his heels drawn together. The two 
 little girls stared at me. No doubt I looked 
 anything but a pleasant-humoured visitor ; 
 although the instant before, while my hand 
 was still on the lock of the door, I had been 
 cheerful enough — and even a little triumph- 
 ant. Now my triumph was very effectually 
 damped. I briefly and drily stated my 
 object in coming to the schoolroom : namely, 
 to tell Lucy that Monsignor Chiappaforti 
 approved, and even advised, her going to 
 Tivoli. And then I stood still, in an atti- 
 tude of expectation. 
 
 That which I was waiting for soon 
 happened. Don Vittorio took his departure, 
 with another bow to me. a trifle haughtier 
 than the first one. As he turned away, 
 little Livia pulled him by the coat. ' Vit-
 
 AR T AND NA TURE. 1 1 3 
 
 torio, Vittorio !' she cried, ' don't forget to 
 ask Laura for the ultramarine ! And she 
 promised me some more gold-paper. Fran- 
 cesca has had twice as much as I.' 
 
 Livia was the youngest of the family, and 
 was supposed to enjoy the honour of being 
 her brother's favourite. He certainly per- 
 mitted her to be more familiar and exigent 
 with him than any of the others, whom he 
 kept at a cool distance. 
 
 On this occasion he carelessly stroked the 
 child's hair, and answered, ' I have something 
 else to do, you monkey, than run on errands 
 all day between you and Laura. I am 
 going out now T . I have brought you Laura's 
 message, and wasted five minutes in doing 
 so. You mustn't ask anything else of me for 
 a month.' And with that he w r ent away. 
 
 He had brought Laura's message ! Was 
 that the real reason for his presence in the 
 
 vol. 1. 8
 
 ii4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 schoolroom, or a mere excuse ? He had 
 certainly looked at me as he spoke, as who 
 should say, ' I hope you are satisfied as to 
 the reason of my being here ?' And why 
 should that not be the simple truth ? Was 
 I not growing morbid and suspicious, and 
 imbibing some of that universal mistrust 
 which poisoned the social atmosphere around 
 me, and which I had frequently proved to 
 be unfounded ? No doubt I had shown my 
 chagrin and surprise very plainly in my face, 
 like a •' blunt barbarian,' as Siffnor Sandro 
 had called me. And no doubt Don Vittorio 
 had understood my emotion — it was en- 
 tirely within the compass of his intelligence. 
 And having understood it, and being too 
 proud to offer anything like an explanation 
 to me, was it not natural that he should 
 take this indirect method of conveying to me 
 that he had no personal inclination to visit
 
 ART AND NA TURE. 1 1 5 
 
 the schoolroom, and that he considered his 
 stay there to have been five minutes 
 ' wasted'? Yes, certainly; very natural. 
 
 And yet 
 
 I was so absorbed in my own reflections 
 that I scarcely comprehended the children's 
 noisy and eager appeals to me, in their 
 imperfect English, to look at the illumina- 
 tions they had been doing, and to pronounce 
 between gold and silver for the bordering of 
 a bright scarlet letter B. I did comprehend, 
 however, that Don Vittorio had really 
 brought them a message from their elder 
 sister — something concerning the all-impor- 
 tant bazaar, of course — and further gathered 
 that Don Vittorio had good-naturedly 
 charged himself with the message, because 
 I happened to be absent at my interview 
 with Monsignore, and Donna Laura had no 
 one else at hand. Nothing could be clearer 
 
 8—2
 
 n6 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 or simpler. I was ashamed of myself for 
 not feeling quite easy. But — I could not 
 feel quite easy. 
 
 Lucy began to question me about Mon- 
 signor Chiappaforti : — What had he said to 
 me ? Was he not amiable and sweet-tem- 
 pered ? Why had I supposed he would 
 object to her going to Tivoli ? I was still 
 absent-minded, and gave her short answers. 
 When we were alone in our own lodging 
 that evening I told her that Monsignore had 
 declared that she (Lucy) had never consulted 
 him at all about our projected holiday, nor 
 had spoken to him on the subject. 
 
 1 Neither did I,' she replied at once. 
 
 < You did not f 
 
 ' Certainly not. Why should you look so 
 astounded ? Did you suppose Monsignore 
 was telling you a wilful and deliberate 
 falsehood ?'
 
 ART AND NATURE. 117 
 
 I was obliged to confess that I had 
 thought so, and to submit humbly to a 
 lecture from my younger sister on the blind- 
 ness of Protestant prejudice and the un- 
 charitableness of Protestant judgments. It 
 was impossible for me to doubt Lucy's sin- 
 cerity. I must then conclude that it was 
 not Monsignore's influence which had made 
 her so reluctant to leave Rome. 
 
 ' Then I suppose,' said I, ' it was the 
 Princess Olympia who set herself so strongly 
 against letting you go.' 
 
 ' She does not like the children's lessons to 
 be interrupted, as I told you, Catherine. 
 And — and I think, myself, that we shall 
 find it cold at Tivoli at this time of year.' 
 
 She had turned away her face from me 
 as she spoke the last sentence, and dropped 
 her voice timidly. I could not bear to see 
 her seem afraid of me. There wa^ nothing
 
 n8 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 I dreaded more than to make her shrink 
 shyly from confiding all she thought and 
 felt to me. And yet I had resolved to be 
 perfectly candid and straightforward with 
 her. My mind was painfully tossed back- 
 wards and forwards from one course of con- 
 duct to another. Monsignore had talked of 
 my ' strength of mind'; and Lucy believed 
 me to be quite terrible in my inflexible force 
 of will. If they had but known how 
 wavering and helpless I really felt ! how 
 much in need of courage and wisdom ! 
 
 We went to Tivoli at the end of that 
 week ; but, oh, how different a visit it was 
 from that to which I had so long looked 
 forward ! Lucy was — not sullen ; that 
 could not be, but — often sad. Monsignore's 
 observation on her pale looks and thinness 
 was a just one. She was looking almost 
 painfully delicate. But I expected day by
 
 ART A ND NA TURE. 1 1 9 
 
 day to see the colour tinge her cheeks again, 
 and the old gay light come into her eyes. 
 I looked in vain. The sweet country air, 
 the loveliness of the scenery, and the peace- 
 fid serenity of our outward lives, seemed to 
 be vain medicament 3 for my Lucy's melan- 
 choly. And it was not alone that she was 
 
 melancholy — she was secret, silent, strangely 
 reserved with me. I had given my word 
 not to discuss with her any question touching 
 the Catholic creed during our absence from 
 Rome, and therefore on that subject the lips 
 of both of us were sealed. But in a hundred 
 ways I felt that the old familiar confidence 
 between us was at an end. Would it ever 
 return ? Just one year ago I had been 
 looking out over the same wondrous landscape 
 that lay now beneath my eyes — just one 
 year, and how much was changed for me ! 
 I had my Art still. Signor Sandro
 
 120 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 would have grimly told me to be thankful, 
 and mind nothing else. Other persons had 
 talked to me in more high-flown terms, 
 saying that Art was sufficient to the true 
 artist ; that the goddess would accept no 
 half-hearted sacrifice ; that one must cheer- 
 fully offer up all the human part of one's 
 life to her, if need were — and the like 
 tinkling phrases. But I could never cheat 
 myself with words. All this talk, as if 
 Art were some dim, monstrous abstraction 
 served by creatures all hand and eye, and 
 ignorant, from long disuse, of human sym- 
 pathies, and weaknesses, and disgusts, and 
 disappointments, seemed to me mere rhap- 
 sodical stuff. Perhaps, if I had been a 
 genius, I might have found Art all-sufficient. 
 (Although, to be honest, I doubt it ; having 
 noticed in all the accounts of men of genius 
 with which I am acquainted that their
 
 ART AND NA TURE. 1 2 1 
 
 sensitiveness to mundane troubles — even 
 such vulgar ones as poor pay for their work, 
 or hostile criticism of it — was in nowise 
 blunted by the favour of the Muses.) At 
 all events, not being a genius, nor anything 
 near to one, I required several other things 
 besides Art to make me happy. And yet I 
 was not unthankful for those two good gifts 
 of Heaven, Imagination and Labour. Nay, 
 I had never valued them so highly as when 
 I found in them a consolation for sorrow, 
 and a refuge from care. To me they were 
 both, at this time. 
 
 I worked hard at a study for the picture 
 I had contemplated making, and for which 
 I had found an admirable model. I also 
 made several studies of landscape. One of 
 these latter was at the ruins of the Villa of 
 Quinctilius Varus, a mile or so from Tivoli. 
 I used to walk thither in the early morning
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 with no other escort than a black-eyed bare- 
 footed urchin whom I had en^a^ed to carry 
 my camp-stool and easel. Once or twice 
 Lucy had accompanied me, and we had eaten 
 our luncheon there, sitting under a gnarled 
 olive-tree, and looking over the matchless 
 panorama. But she found the walk too 
 fatiguing to make it frequently — what a 
 pang it gave me to hear her say so, and to 
 assure myself from anxious observation of 
 her languid gait and jDale face that it was 
 but too true ! — and so I spent many a morn- 
 ing there without her. She, meanwhile, 
 passed the time of my absence chiefly in the 
 Villa d'Este. There she was safe from in- 
 truders, and could wander about the grounds, 
 or sit still with her book or 1ft? f ^0ft 'in the 
 shade. The old housekeeper at the Villa 
 d'Este was a great friend of mine, and used 
 to assure me, every time I gave her a small
 
 ART AXD NATURE. 123 
 
 present of money proportioned to my humble 
 purse, that my sister was an angel, and that 
 she (the housekeeper) would not fail to look 
 after her. Let her come to the gardens as 
 often and stay as long as she would ! I do 
 not know what more the good woman could 
 have said, for ten times the money. 
 
 We had been at Tivoli about a week when 
 one morning my little model came to me in 
 a state of great excitement. She was a girl 
 of fourteen, and looked, to English eyes, 
 three or four years older ; a handsome 
 creature, with glorious eyes and rich masses 
 of coarse, blue-black hair, but with a skin 
 parched and sickly from fever, which she had 
 suffered from severely. Her home was on 
 the borders of the Pontine Marshes, in the 
 very stronghold of malaria, and she had been 
 sent to stay with a relative who lived in 
 Tivoli, in order to regain her health. I had
 
 i2 4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 heard of her from Signor Sandro, who had 
 often employed an elder sister of hers, a 
 professional model, in Rome. My little 
 Monica was not a professional model, but 
 she was just what I wanted for my picture, 
 fever-blanched skin and all. She looked 
 sad, pathetic, poetic ; but the charm vanished 
 the instant she opened her mouth to speak. 
 She had the harsh, hoarse, bawling voice 
 which belongs to so many Roman women of 
 her class, and the matter of her speech did 
 not compensate for its manner. She was 
 the most ignorant and undisciplined human 
 creature I had ever known ; but probably 
 she was not below the level of her compeers 
 in those respects. Such as her character 
 was, she revealed it as undisguisedly as any 
 wild animal. Her very lies — and she never 
 scrupled to utter one, if it suited her at the 
 moment — were of a wholly incredible and
 
 ART AND NATURE. 125 
 
 inartificial kind ; and the detection of them 
 embarrassed her not a whit, although it 
 sometimes put her in a passion ! 
 
 To me one morning came this unsophis 
 ticated young person in a violent excitement, 
 as I have said. She was even paler than 
 usual, her black brows were bent into a 
 frown, and she clenched her sunburnt fist, 
 and kept muttering to herself in a fierce 
 spasmodic way. 
 
 ' This will not do, Monica,' said I. < If 
 you are so restless, and put on that demoniac 
 look, you are not of the least use to me. 
 Sit still, and leave off frowning.' 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders impatiently, 
 but obeyed for a minute or so. Then the 
 gesticulations and mutterings and general 
 air of ferocity began again. I threw down 
 my brush. ' Very well, Monica,' I said 
 quietly, ' you are not disposed to earn your
 
 i26 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 money this morning, I see. As you please. 
 Only pray understand that I cannot afford to 
 pay you for wasting my time with your antics. . 
 I am not a rich Signora, but a poor artist.' 
 
 Monica jumped up, and kicked over the 
 stool on which she had been sitting, with a 
 violent imprecation. ' I care nothing for 
 your miserable money !' she cried. 1 1 cant 
 sit still ! My blood is boiling in my 
 veins !' 
 
 1 You are extremely silly, Monica. And 
 you don't speak the truth, either. You care 
 a great deal for my money.' 
 
 She paused in her furious tearing about 
 the room, and stared at me curiously. My 
 tone of cool indifference always had some 
 influence with her — simply, I believe, be- 
 cause it puzzled her. The violence of her 
 passion had not been affected, any more than 
 the passion of a little child is affected, whom
 
 ART AND NATURE. 
 
 yet one can divert from its wrath and its 
 screams by holding up any new object before 
 its eyes. With Monica, as with the infant, 
 there were no inner depths of the spirit to 
 be profoundly stirred ; and consequently her 
 storms of emotion were brief, and left no 
 ground-swell behind them. 
 
 ' Come,' said I, ' sit clown there whilst I 
 sketch in this background, and tell me what 
 is the matter. Perhaps you will be able to 
 be quiet when you have said your say.' 
 
 The idea seemed to please her. ' Yes, 
 yes ; I will tell you. It will take a weight 
 from my heart. Listen, Signorina !' 
 
 Monica's ' saying her say ' involved so 
 many rambling parentheses, so much violent 
 language, and general incoherence, that I 
 must condense her statement to me. It was 
 this : 
 
 Some years previously her brother — much
 
 128 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 older than she — had been sent to the 
 galleys. He had had a narrow escape of 
 being executed, indeed, for it was in the 
 ' time of the priests,' as Monica phrased it, 
 when malefactors used actually to be killed 
 and made an end of. Not that Pasquale 
 was a malefactor ! By no means. He was 
 an excellent young man, the pride of his 
 family ; but he had had the misfortune to 
 allow his feelings to get the better of him, 
 and, in a word, he had attempted to murder 
 a gentleman, and would have succeeded, but 
 that his gun missed fire. And the gentle- 
 man had never rested until Pasquale was 
 caged by the myrmidons of the law, de- 
 claring (with some reason, it should appear) 
 that his life was not safe whilst that im- 
 petuous youth was at large. 
 
 At this point of her story Monica paused, 
 expecting sympathy. I was obliged to dis-
 
 ART AND NA TURE. 1 29 
 
 appoint her, and to explain that in my 
 country we had a strong objection to assassins. 
 
 ' Assassins I s she cried indignantly ; ' but 
 Pasquale was no assassin ; it was a vendetta ! 
 A vengeance from jealousy — love jealousy.' 
 
 I could not say that this altered the case 
 so as to make Pasquale an entirely admirable 
 hero in my eyes ; but I was curious to know 
 how the gentleman (whom Monica described 
 as a grand Signore, a great nobleman, rich, 
 and proud, and splendid) could have been a 
 rival to her brother, the peasant. She ex- 
 plained the matter without circumlocution. 
 Pasquale had had a sweetheart whom he 
 meant to marry some day. The sweetheart 
 — a strikingly beautiful girl, according to 
 Monica's account — had loved, or seemed to 
 love, Pasquale, until one fine day her affec- 
 tions were captivated by the noble gentle- 
 man in question, who carried her off to 
 
 vol. 1. 9
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Rome with him, and after a short time 
 abandoned her. Pasquale, who had been 
 for some weeks deceived and hoodwinked, 
 both by his faithless innarnorata and her 
 seducer, no sooner discovered the truth than 
 he tried to kill the nobleman. What could 
 be more natural? And then Pasquale — 
 2>overetto — had been hunted for days and 
 days by the giandarwi (gendarmes), and 
 caught at last, and sent to the galleys. 
 What a pity that he had not sent a bullet into 
 the traitor's heart first ! That would have 
 been some consolation under the suffering' 
 of imprisonment ; but, as it was, Pasquale's 
 case was really too hard, and calculated to 
 awaken the deepest sympathy ! 
 
 Such was Monica's story, and such her 
 view of it. 
 
 And what, I asked, had become of 
 Pasquale ? Oh, he had escaped from the
 
 ART AND NA TURE. 1 3 1 
 
 galleys after about a year and a half. But 
 as to what he had been doing since, or where 
 he had been, Monica either could not, or 
 would not, give any information. He had 
 been ' in the Abruzzi,' she said vaguely. 
 Indeed, she believed he had crossed the sea 
 to Sicily. She did not know where Sicily 
 was, but it was a long, long way off. You 
 see, Pasquale could not come home to his 
 old place, because the accursed police would 
 put him in prison again if they caught him. 
 Poor Pasquale ! 
 
 And the girl whom he had loved ? Oh, 
 about her Monica knew nothings And the 
 fine nobleman ? Ah, he, the traitor, the 
 wretch, the miscreant, who had set on the 
 giandarmi to hunt down poor Pasquale and 
 put him in prison, he was alive, he was 
 flourishing, he was brave with sleek clothes 
 and a gold chain, and a horse that shone 
 
 9—2
 
 1 32 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 like satin ! She (Monica) had seen him that 
 very morning in Tivoli, as she crossed the 
 Piazza. She was but nine years old when poor 
 Pasquale had the misfortune to attempt his 
 murder, but she remembered his face well — 
 well. Might he die assassinated ! 
 
 ' Then it was the sight of this gentle- 
 man that put you into such a ferment V I 
 said. 
 
 Truly it was. What else ? But now she 
 had spoken, her heart was lighter. She felt 
 easier. But she did not want to see that 
 villain again. The sight of him caused her 
 to ' make bad blood.' And what could she 
 do? Pasquale was away, no one knew where. 
 She could only hope and pray that the 
 saints would pour down evils and misfortunes 
 on the head of that traitor, for he seemed to 
 be beyond the reach of earthly vengeance — 
 more was the pity !
 
 ART AND NATURE. 133 
 
 I mused over this story and the strange 
 scene of Monica's violence as I walked down, 
 a little later, to the Villa d'Este to meet 
 Lucy, and bring her home to dinner. ' What 
 a curious savage the girl is !' thought I. And 
 then I began to consider her from a pro- 
 fessional point of view, and to think of 
 making a study of her face in its unrestrained 
 fury, and calling it ' Vendetta !' It might 
 not, however, be easy to bring her passion, 
 on that score, up to the boiling point 
 again. ' And even if I could do it/ I said 
 to myself, ' the experiment would be some- 
 thing like irritating a vigorous young tiger, 
 with the view of studying him in his wrath. 
 There's no reckoning on what she might 
 do!' 
 
 Lucy met me near the gate of the gardens, 
 and to my surprise I found she was not 
 alone. She was in company with an elderly
 
 i 3 4 AMONG ALIENS, 
 
 priest, who took off his great shovel hat and 
 saluted me with much politeness. 
 
 ' This gentleman — Don Gregorio Galli,' 
 said Lucy, ' is a friend of the Princess 
 Corleoni's. When he heard that we knew 
 the Princess, he was kind enough to offer 
 to be of service to us here.' 
 
 ' In any way — in any way in my power, 
 Signorina,' said Don Gregorio. 4 You are 
 strangers in Tivoli. Pray let me know if I 
 can give you help or information of any kind. 
 And how was Monsignor Chiappaforti when 
 you left Pome ? A man of very dis- 
 tinguished talent — a shining light. Ah, 
 Pome is his true sphere ! There his abilities 
 are appreciated. At one time there was a 
 chance of my getting a parish in Pome 
 myself, but circumstances have kept me here. 
 Well, well, we must try to do our duty in 
 our humble w T ay. I shall do myself the
 
 ART AND NATURE. 135 
 
 pleasure to come and see you, Signorina ; 
 meanwhile I have the honour to salute 
 you.' 
 
 Then Don Gregorio walked off one way, 
 whilst we pursued the other. He was a 
 meagre, feeble-looking old man, with a weak, 
 self-complacent countenance. I have seldom 
 conversed with anyone so dirty, or more 
 urbane. 
 
 I was put out by his intrusion into our 
 life, although I believed he was not to blame 
 for it. I thought that I was unfairly used 
 in having to submit to Don Gregorio's visits, 
 which were made of course with the sole 
 view of Lucy's conversion, whilst, on my 
 side, I had faithfully kept my word, and 
 refrained from trying to influence my sister's 
 mind on the subject of religion. This vexed 
 me, and I spoke out what I thought of it, 
 and Lucy protested her belief that Don
 
 136 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Gregorio merely came to see us out of pure 
 benevolence and humanity, apart from all 
 thoughts of proselytizing ; and the discussion 
 drove Monica and her story out of my head 
 for the rest of that day.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 
 
 From that day we were haunted by Don 
 Gregorio. Even Lucy found his frequent 
 company oppressive, although she would 
 hardly acknowledge as much openly. As 
 for me, I daily threatened to affront him 
 past forgiveness, and so get rid of his visits, 
 and daily found it impossible to carry out 
 the threat ; so mild, long-suffering, and 
 impervious to the broadest hints did I find 
 his reverence. ' If he would but wash his 
 hands sometimes f I exclaimed in despair. 
 And indeed his divorce from soap and water
 
 138 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 was not the least of the disturbances to my 
 peace of mind occasioned by Don Gregorio's 
 presence. I wondered at first why Mon- 
 signor Chiappaforti, who was certainly a 
 shrewd, clever man, had entrusted any 
 mission of conversion to Don Gregorio Galli : 
 since even Lucy's charitable judgment could 
 not but rate him low in intelligence, and 
 even Lucy's humility must find it difficult 
 not to look down upon, instead of up to 
 him. But it soon became clear to me that 
 Don Gregorio was employed not to guide 
 my young sister, but to watch her. And 
 Monsignore had shown his usual acuteness 
 in selecting him for this task. The Signor 
 Curato's zeal was indefatigable, and his good 
 temper (or stupidity) impregnable. Go 
 where we might, do what we would, many 
 hours of the day did not pass without our 
 seeing the rusty black suit and dusty shovel
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 139 
 
 hat of Don Gregorio, and hearing his long- 
 winded complimentary speeches, the utter 
 fatuity, formality, and falseness of which 
 had an absolutely paralyzing effect on me. I 
 used to sit dumbly staring at his reverence's 
 unwashed and unshaven countenance, and 
 listening to his reverence's soul-exhausting 
 commonplaces, with the helpless sensation 
 of a sleeper oppressed by nightmare. 
 
 One refuge I had from him, or I believe 
 his persecution would have driven me from 
 Tivoli : I could get away from him to the 
 Villa of Quinctilius, and paint in peace. That 
 was rather too long an excursion for Don 
 Gregorio. Perhaps, indeed, he might even 
 have got out so far as that in pursuit of 
 Lucy ; but it was not worth his while to 
 follow me thither. Lucy, meanwhile, 
 passed her mornings safely in the gardens 
 of the Villa d'Este ; and though the old
 
 140 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 priest occasionally looked in upon her even 
 there, he seemed to be satisfied to leave her 
 for the most part in the seclusion and almost 
 solitude of the gardens. At that time of 
 year visitors were few, and if a stray party 
 of tourists did appear, it was easy to avoid 
 them. 
 
 Meanwhile, I was working earnestly, 
 sometimes at the landscape, and sometimes 
 at the study of Monica's head. That 
 volcanic young person was now in a period 
 of quiescence. She had had a slight return 
 of the intermittent fever. This had subdued 
 her, and she would now sit still for hours, in 
 a languid, restful attitude, which was the 
 very thing I wanted, so that I got on 
 famously, and began to hope that I should 
 make a fairly good thing of my picture. 
 The picture itself was not properly begun ; 
 but I meant to work at it when I returned
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 141 
 
 to Rome, under my master's eye. What I 
 was doing in Tivoli was merely to make 
 studies for it. My notion was to paint a 
 kind of personification of the wild, sad, 
 fever -stricken, mournfully beautiful Roman 
 Campagna, under the form of a female 
 peasant, and to call it ' A Child of the Soil/ 
 or some such name. For this purpose, 
 Monica seemed to me a perfect model ; 
 especially when her natural savagery was 
 only smouldering, as it were, beneath the 
 languor of laziness and malaria. Her tiger 
 flashes of ferocity (however interesting a 
 study in themselves) were not for my pre 
 sent purpose. I therefore refrained from 
 recurring to the subject of her enemy, the 
 nobleman. And she seemed to have thought 
 no more of him since the day when his 
 unexpected appearance in Tivoli had so 
 moved her. During some happy interval
 
 i 4 2 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 of release from the society of Don Gregorio, 
 I began to give a brief outline of Monica's 
 story to Lucy. But I almost regretted 
 having done so when I saw what an impres- 
 sion it made on my sister. She was even 
 uneasy at my spending hours alone with such 
 a fierce, untamed creature. 
 
 ' Her brother, you know, was a murderer 
 in intent, Catherine,' said Lucy, with a 
 shudder ; ' and I fear she would not scruple 
 to follow his example, if she were provoked.' 
 
 I tried to laugh my sister out of her 
 tremors. ' I believe I am safe from assassin- 
 ation,' said I, ' unless, indeed, I expire of 
 exhaustion after a long visit from Don 
 Gregorio.' But I was rather glad that I 
 had not mentioned the fact of Pasquale's 
 rival having actually been seen in Tivoli, 
 and that Lucy had interrupted me before I 
 had got to that point ; for she was so ner-
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 143 
 
 vous and horror-stricken at my account of 
 Monica's code of ethics that, if she had 
 known this circumstance, she would have 
 been tormented by the apprehension of some 
 scene of violence and bloodshed. Always 
 timid and gentle, she had of late become 
 nervous to excess. Her spirits and health 
 were evidently being undermined by a con- 
 stant anxiety and mental struggle. Some- 
 times, when I looked at her, I was tempted 
 to wish that she would make the final resolve, 
 and openly become a Catholic. Anything 
 would be better than this doubt and suspense. 
 Again, the project would cross my mind to 
 give up all my studies in Rome, and return 
 with Lucy to England, as I had threatened 
 Monsignore I would do. In that case, fare- 
 well to all hope of future distinction and 
 present improvement in my art. But that 
 hope — although it was dear to me — I would
 
 144 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 unhesitatingly have sacrificed, if by so doing 
 I could ensure my sister's peace of mind. 
 Yes ; I am sure, on calmly looking back to 
 that time, that I would have made the 
 sacrifice. Nor do I deem it a great boast to 
 say so. To see Lucy anxious and unhappy 
 poisoned all my life ; and no artistic glories 
 I could conceive of would have had power 
 to elate me whilst she was depressed. 
 
 I come now to a strange crisis in our lives, 
 which seemed to overtake us as suddenly as 
 an Alpine storm ; but which had, of course, 
 been gradually prepared by many circum- 
 stances working blindly together ; and by 
 some other circumstances artfully arranged 
 and combined to one end. The first shock 
 of it came in this form : 
 
 Lucy one evening received a letter sealed 
 with a large coat -of- arms. Our corres- 
 pondents were very few, and none of them,
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 145 
 
 I need scarcely say, used such aristocratic 
 signs of dignity as the ostentatious heraldic 
 device in red wax which made Lucy's letter 
 look imposing. I handed it to her with a 
 jest about her grand correspondent. She 
 took it with a smile, which grew brighter 
 when she had cast her eyes on the super- 
 scription. ' It is the Princess's writing,' 
 she said. ' Very likely there is a letter 
 inside from Francesca and Livia. They 
 were to be allowed to write to me, if they 
 could manage to achieve an epistle in 
 English. ' 
 
 She broke the seal, still smiling, and I 
 went on with some needlework that I had 
 in hand. ' Well,' said I, after some minutes' 
 silence, ' is the children's English unde- 
 cipherable ?' and at the same time I lifted 
 my eyes from my stitching. What I saw 
 forced a cry of terror from me. Lucy sat 
 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 146 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 there pale to the lips, with the open letter 
 on the table before her, and a look of such 
 frozen anguish on her white face as almost 
 made my heart stand still ! 
 
 ' My Lucy !' I cried, ' my child ! what is 
 the matter ?' 
 
 She shivered, and trembled violently from 
 head to foot, but did not speak. When I 
 grasped at the letter, she feebly tried to 
 hold it back, with a little piteous moan ; but 
 I seized it without scruple. And I read it 
 
 whilst she sat cowering and trembling in her 
 
 © © 
 
 chair, with her face hidden in her clasped 
 hands. 
 
 Oh, it was a cruel letter ! The Prin- 
 cess Olympia — for she was the writer — 
 thoroughly understood the softness and 
 sensibility of the nature she was minded to 
 wound. Not a word was lost ; not a sting 
 was mitigated by one touch of pity. The
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 147 
 
 Princess began at once by a direct accusa- 
 tion : 
 
 ' You have repaid my kindness by black 
 ingratitude/ she wrote. ■ You have tried 
 to seduce my son away from me, from his 
 duty, and from his station. Your arts 
 appear the more hateful from being cloaked 
 under an appearance of modest simplicity. 
 My innocent children have revealed to me 
 the frequent interviews which they witnessed 
 between Don Vittorio and yourself. I am 
 loath to sully their pure minds with such 
 suspicions as attach to your conduct, but it 
 will be my imperative duty to warn them 
 against you, and to forbid them to see you, 
 or communicate with you in any way. How 
 far your insolent sister has been your accom- 
 plice, I know not. She is an unscrupulous 
 and irreligious woman, the companion of 
 
 10—2
 
 i 4 8 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 revolutionary infidels, and her conduct, 
 therefore, is not surprising. But in you I 
 have been grossly deceived. The dreadful 
 suspicion assails me that your desire to be 
 instructed in our holy faith was merely a 
 part of your plan to ingratiate yourself with 
 my family for the basest purposes. But 
 this idea is so truly horrible, that I fervently 
 pray it may be erroneous. Attempt not 
 any exculpation. It would be in vain. I 
 know all. My son followed you to Tivoli. 
 He has had stolen interviews with you there 
 in the gardens of the Villa d'Este. Your 
 reputation is destroyed for ever, if I speak 
 one half of what I know and can prove 
 against you. Your sister's professional 
 career in Rome can be cut short by a word 
 from me. What decent, self-respecting 
 persons, even among the heretics, would
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 149 
 
 countenance such dangerous and wily women, 
 when once unmasked ? 
 
 ' But I would not shut the door against 
 repentance. Heaven forbid ! Repent, 
 amend, do penance in the dust ! Seek out 
 some holy guide to the true religion. 
 Implore the compassion of the Blessed 
 Virgin for the evil past, and her strength- 
 ening help for the future. It is your only 
 hope. 
 
 ' Olympia Bastiaxi Corleoni. 
 
 ' Indulge in no self-delusions. Vittorio 
 has confessed everything to me. 
 
 < 0. b. c: 
 
 This was to me so utterly unexpected, 
 that I know not whether amazement or 
 burning indignation were the or eater as I 
 read. But the amazement passed, and the
 
 i 5 o AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 indignation remained — and remains. But 
 for the moment my sole care was for Lucy. 
 All other feelings were forcibly thrust aside 
 by anxiety for her. I cannot describe the 
 strange state of prostration she had fallen 
 into. She was like one who has received a 
 stunning blow, in the literal sense of the 
 words. A sort of numbness seemed to have 
 taken possession of all her faculties. It 
 seemed a painful effort for her even to 
 articulate a word in answer to my attempts 
 to soothe and comfort her. She did not 
 lament, she did not shed a tear, but just sat 
 still in her chair, ashy pale, and shivering 
 from head to foot like a terrified bird. I 
 was terrified in my turn. This state of 
 nervous prostration was something of which 
 I had no experience, and I knew not how to 
 deal with it. I touched Lucy's hand ; it was 
 cold and listless. I spoke to her again and
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 151 
 
 again ; she merely shook her head feebly, 
 and cowered away from me in her chair with 
 a shrinking movement of the shoulders. 
 What was to be done ? She could not be 
 allowed to remain thus. 
 
 In the midst of my most painful per- 
 plexity, the landlady' of .the humble lodging 
 came into the room to announce a visit from 
 Don Gregorio. 
 
 ' Send him away/ said I ; ' my sister is ill/ 
 The woman, who, though coarse and 
 ignorant, was kindly, and, like most of her 
 countrywomen, intensely sympathetic with 
 illness, advanced to see what was the matter. 
 Her experience suggested but one cause for 
 Lucy's trembling. ' She shivers,' said the 
 Signora Anna, commonly called ' S'ora 
 Nanna ;' ' she has the fever. Oh ! it will 
 be nothing, Signorina. Don't take on. 
 Get her to bed, and cover her up warm and
 
 152 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 give her a dose of quinine. By-and-by the 
 hot fit will come on.' 
 
 The suggestion was welcome to me, 
 because, although I did not believe Lucy 
 had fever — or at least not the malaria fever 
 which the S'ora Nanna meant — yet it was 
 evident that she was ill ; and this notion of 
 the fever furnished an excuse for having her 
 nursed and kept quiet, which would be 
 accepted without question. And I could 
 not say aloud, ' My sister has been poisoned 
 by venomous words.' We must keep that 
 to ourselves for awhile. She submitted to 
 go to bed. She let me undress her and 
 cover her up with cloaks and shawls. I 
 made her a warm drink, and though she 
 piteously begged to be left quiet, she sub- 
 mitted to swallow it without much difficulty, 
 and then lay down with her face hidden in 
 the pillow, and her bright curls tossed in
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 153 
 
 disorder about it. After a little hesitation 
 I resolved to leave her for half an hour or so 
 in the hope that she might fall asleep from 
 pure exhaustion. ' Pray God that wicked 
 woman has not murdered her !' I exclaimed 
 aloud in the misery of my heart as I closed 
 the bedroom door. 
 
 In the sitting - room, standing at the 
 window and looking out into the tangled 
 wilderness of weeds and shrubs that they 
 called a garden, I found Don Gregorio. 
 The brief twilight was coming on rapidly, 
 and he loomed larofe and black in it against 
 the window-panes. My entrance into the 
 room caused him to turn round. 
 
 ' Ah, Signorina,' he began, with his usual 
 flourishing bow, ' I am so grieved to hear of 
 your dear sister's illness. I trust it is not 
 serious ; I '
 
 154 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 * You had better go away,' said I. 'I 
 cannot talk to you now — nor listen/ 
 
 ' Certainly not, Signorina. You cannot 
 be expected to listen, I am sure. I am so 
 sorry to hear of the Signorina Lucia's illness ! 
 Just at this time, too, when I am expecting 
 the great pleasure and honour of a visit 
 from Monsignor Chiappaforti. He arrives 
 to-morrow ; and he will make a point, I 
 have no doubt, of coming to see our amiable 
 invalid as soon as ' 
 
 I turned on him, being fairly at bay. 
 ' He shall not come here to torment my 
 sister,' I said. ' I will not have her troubled 
 or disturbed, for the Pope himself. Do you 
 understand me ? And now be so good as 
 to take your departure. Go away. I 
 think I speak plainly.' 
 
 My words, or my tone, or my stern, angry 
 face, or all three together, succeeded in
 
 A POISONED SHAFT. 155 
 
 piercing Don Gregorio's suave dulness for 
 once, at all events. He started, stared, 
 backed a few steps from me, and then 
 absolutely turned round and ran away, 
 shuffling down the stairs as fast as his meagre 
 old legs could carry him.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 
 
 My sister at length fell into a deep sleep, 
 and I sat down to think at my leisure. First 
 I read over again more than once the 
 Princess's letter. In spite of the passion 
 of indignation which surged up in me each 
 time my eyes rested on its hateful words, I 
 forced myself to read it attentively until I 
 had thoroughly mastered its contents. Ugh ! 
 Even to think of it now makes me hot with 
 anger, and at the time I believe it would 
 have cost me a less effort of will to hold my 
 hand against a scorching flame than it did
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 157 
 
 to compel my mind steadily to consider that 
 letter with all the judgment I could bring 
 to bear on it. 
 
 First of all, there needed but little re- 
 flection to convince me that the Princess's 
 statement respecting the ' revelations ' made 
 to her by the little girls, Francesca and 
 Livia, of Don Vittorio's interviews with 
 Lucy in the schoolroom, was a lying pretence. 
 She ignorant of what went on day after day 
 in her own house ! I believe a mouse could 
 hardly stir behind the wainscot but she 
 knew it. No ; had she wished to prevent 
 her son's visits to the schoolroom she could 
 have done so with perfect ease. Why she 
 had chosen to permit those visits, and why, 
 having permitted them, she now chose to 
 reproach Lucy with them, I did not yet 
 see. 
 
 The next point was a more startling and
 
 1 58 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 painful one. She spoke of stolen interviews 
 between her son and my sister in the gardens 
 of the Villa d'Este. This, too, I was at 
 first convinced was a falsehood, but on a 
 second and calmer perusal of the letter that 
 conviction was shaken. I could not waken 
 Lucy to question her then ; it would have 
 been too cruel. And so the doubt remained 
 in my mind, as painful and irritating as a 
 thorn in the flesh. But I must perforce 
 wait until next morning to remove it. 
 
 Thirdly, I was struck by the loophole 
 which the Princess left open to Lucy for a 
 possible reconciliation. It is true she never 
 used that word. She even declared that she 
 must forbid her children to hold any com- 
 munication with Lucy, or to see her again. 
 But I understood her phraseology well 
 enough to be sure that she intended to hold 
 out a glimmer of hope. Her words about
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 159 
 
 cutting short my career in Rome ; her 
 phrase, ' Your reputation is destroyed for 
 ever if I speak one half of what I know and 
 can prove against you,' were all conditional 
 threats. On what was their fulfilment, or 
 non-fulfilment, to be contingent ? Not on 
 the Christian charity of Donna Olympia 
 Corleoni, let the condition be what else it 
 might. Heaven help any creature in her 
 power who should depend on that hollow 
 mockery ! Her object seemed to me to be 
 first to beat down Lucy into the dust, and 
 then to raise her from it after her own good 
 w T ill and pleasure. She had reckoned on 
 Lucy's childish inexperience, on her softness 
 and timidity, on the sensitiveness of her 
 affections. She had learned accurately the 
 points of the girl's nature that could be most 
 effectually hurt. 
 
 1 But you have not quite as accurately
 
 160 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 learned to know me, Donna Olympia Bastiani 
 Corleoni !' I exclaimed to myself. 
 
 Lucy still slept, or seemed to sleep, when 
 I went to my bed beside hers in the same 
 room. The next morning I awoke with the 
 dawn, and looking over at her, saw her pale 
 face tinted with the rose-hues of sunrise, 
 and the tears stealing down her cheeks from 
 beneath her closed eyelids. I arose, and 
 wrapped some clothes loosely round me, and 
 went and seated myself on the side of her 
 bed. 
 
 ' Lucy,' I said, ' you are not sleeping. I 
 w r ant to talk to you.' 
 
 She shrank away, hiding her face in the 
 pillow without opening her eyes, and mur- 
 mured brokenly : 
 
 ' Oh, Catherine, don't be angry with me ! 
 Don't you cease to love me, or I shall die !' 
 
 ' Angry with you, my pet ! No, little
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 161 
 
 Lucy, my little sister that I have loved from 
 a tiny, tiny infant ! You cannot think that 
 I shall cease to love you. If your dear 
 dead mother could come back to earth, I 
 think even she would be content with my 
 love for you, Lucy.' 
 
 Then the poor child burst into a passion 
 of sobbing, and throwing her arms round my 
 neck, blessed and thanked me and begged 
 me to forgive her and love her still, though 
 she had been ' very, very wrong to deceive 
 me,' until my eyes filled too, and we cried 
 in each other's arms. The ebullition of her 
 pent-up feelings relieved her heart, over- 
 charged with sorrow and shame and vague 
 terrors. And presently she was able to 
 speak to me clearly and with something like 
 calmness. The gist of what she told me 
 was this : 
 
 Don Vittorio Corleoni had professed the 
 vol. 1. 11
 
 1 6? AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 most fervent love for her. The first 
 announcement of his passion had been made 
 in a little note slipped into her hand with 
 the English letter she was to translate. In 
 it he had conjured her to keep his secret for 
 the present, as he should have to encounter 
 many troubles and annoyances if it were 
 known as yet. He trusted to her honour 
 not to betray him to his mother, or to her 
 sister, or to anyone. She had returned his 
 note to him at the earliest opportunity, and 
 had told him that if he so addressed her 
 again she should be compelled to apj)eal to 
 the Princess. So far, so good. But what 
 chance had little soft-hearted, simple-minded 
 Lucy against Vittorio Corleoni ? The poor 
 child had fallen in love with the fine qualities 
 her romantic fancy attributed to that hand- 
 some, high-bred mask, those beautiful deep 
 blue eves. I have recentlv read somewhere
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 1 63 
 
 the dictum enunciated by a masculine critic 
 that ' no man but a fool can fail to perceive 
 when a woman is in love with him.' Don 
 Vittorio's folly, at all events, was not of the 
 kind which is apt to fall into mistakes from 
 diffidence of his own attractions or a too 
 exalted opinion of the claims of others. He 
 thought it the most probable thing in the 
 world that Lucy should be in love with him ; 
 any other state of things would have been 
 almost inconceivable to him. 
 
 In a word, he persuaded her to trust in 
 him, and to keep the first secret she had 
 ever had from me. It is not a new or rare 
 case. A sister, even the fondest, has small 
 chance against a lover, when they are 
 weighed by a girl of eighteen in all the en- 
 chantment of a first romance of the heart. 
 But Lucy vowed — and I believed her — that 
 her secrecy from me was to be only for a 
 
 11 — 2
 
 1 64 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 brief while ; that she never ceased to urge 
 Vittorio to confide in me, whom she could 
 trust as herself, she assured him ; and that 
 he constantly promised to tell me everything 
 soon if Lucy would but be patient and 
 prudent for a little time. He had even 
 spoken of his great respect for me and admi- 
 ration of my talents, and had hinted at the 
 great things he and Lucy might be able to 
 do for my advancement as an artist. Ah, 
 poor, credulous, unsuspecting child ! He 
 had fooled her to the top of her bent. The 
 extent of his influence over her was more 
 startlingly represented to me by the follow- 
 ing circumstance than by anything else : 
 She had kept the most absolute silence about 
 his pursuit of her, even to Monsignor 
 Chiappaforti ! That that astute gentleman 
 more than suspected it I did not doubt, 
 but at least he had not heard a hint of
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 165 
 
 it from Lucy. She had been firm and 
 staunch. 
 
 The efforts to convert her had gone on 
 in the Palazzo Corleoni simultaneously with 
 Don Vittorio's wooing, but apart from it. 
 Lucy, poor child, was eager to assure me 
 that her mind had been drawn to the Roman 
 Catholic Church before she had ever thought 
 of Vittorio as a lover. And I did not doubt 
 that she spoke the truth. Nevertheless, I 
 did not doubt also that — unconsciously, 
 perhaps, to herself — her infatuation for Don 
 Vittorio prepared her to be infatuated with 
 his faith, with his family, with his country, 
 with all that belonged to him. By a series 
 of searching questions I gathered from Lucy 
 that Don Vittorio had shown himself but 
 lukewarm on the subject of her conversion. 
 And this fact alone would have been suf- 
 ficient to convince me (even had there not
 
 1 66 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 been, alas ! a crowd of others pointing to 
 the same conclusion) that he did not mean 
 honourably by her. His wife — the wife of 
 Don Vittorio de' Principi Bastiani Corleoni 
 and the future head of the house ! — must of 
 course belong to the true Church. Heresy 
 would have meant degradation, decadence, 
 social ostracism for his wife ; but for his 
 mistress, the case was different. My blood 
 boiled in my veins as I thought of it all. 
 But no suspicion of this kind appeared to 
 have crossed Lucy's mind. Having once 
 begun her confession, she spoke freely and 
 without reservation. 
 
 ' Vittorio cannot blame me for telling you 
 now,' she said. 
 
 She even showed me the precious scrap 
 of paper in which he had first declared his 
 love — I loathe to profane that word in 
 writing of him— but although neither in
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 167 
 
 that, nor in any of his reported utterances 
 to her did the word ' marriage ' once occur, 
 she never appeared to doubt for an instant 
 that he sought her as his wife. Distantly 
 and cautiously, I ventured to hint a suspi- 
 cion ; but I need not have feared to startle 
 her. Her mind seemed incapable of taking 
 in such an idea. Her only conception of 
 my meaning was that I accused her lover of 
 possible weakness in yielding to the opposi- 
 tion of his family, and so giving her up. 
 And to this she merely replied, with a 
 trembling lip and tearful eyes : ' I know I 
 am far beneath him in every way, and I 
 would not be an obstacle in his path, or a 
 clog on him- — only I do believe that no one 
 else would make him so happy as I, because 
 no one else could love him as I love him.' 
 
 It was maddening to hear her talk so. 
 And, although I put a strong constraint on
 
 168 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 myself, being resolved to be gentle and 
 patient with her, I could not help my voice 
 taking a sterner tone as I asked the direct 
 question : ' Lucy, does the Princess speak 
 falsely when she says you have had stolen 
 interviews with her son in the gardens of 
 the Villa d'Este V 
 
 1 No ; she speaks truly — at least, as she 
 thinks, truly. I was going to tell you how 
 it was, Catherine. Yittorio came here with- 
 out my knowledge. We had had a little 
 quarrel — at least, he had been vexed at 
 my coming to Tivoli. When you thought 
 Monsignore was setting himself against the 
 visit you were mistaken. It was really 
 Vittorio. But he ought not to be blamed 
 for that. He only wanted to keep me in 
 Rome because he was fond of me, you know.' 
 1 Or of himself! Well, go on.' 
 • But then, when I was gone, he was so
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 169 
 
 miserable. He wanted to write to me, but 
 then he thought you — might ' 
 
 < Well V 
 
 ' He knew you would see the letter, and 
 perhaps question me about it, and so — he 
 resolved to ride over all the way, only on 
 the chance of being able to catch a glimpse 
 of me, even if he could not speak to me. 
 He would not have done that, Catherine, if 
 he had not loved me truly.' 
 
 1 And was it his true love which induced 
 him to follow you to the gardens of the Villa 
 when you were alone ? He must have bribed 
 the portress to let him in !' 
 
 ' Xo, no, Catherine ! Indeed not ! She 
 knew him. The Princess spent a summer 
 once at Tivoli.' 
 
 1 He then knowingly exposed you to the 
 comments of that ignorant woman, full of 
 the ideas and prejudices of her country, who
 
 170 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 of all the matter only knows that you are 
 the sister of a poor artist, a young mother- 
 less girl, who receives stolen visits from a 
 gentleman of Don Yittorio's rank and con- 
 sequence ! You see what his lady mother 
 writes ; how she views (or affects to view) 
 such imprudent behaviour ! Don Yittorio 
 knows as well as the Princess that he was 
 cruelly injuring your reputation in the eyes 
 of all his people.' 
 
 But it was all of no use. She blamed 
 herself, she was willing to humble herself to 
 the dust ; but Yittorio was noble-hearted, 
 generous, magnanimous, a mirror of chivalry ! 
 How, then, did she interpret the Princess's 
 words : ' My son has confessed everything,' 
 and the Princess's scornful reproaches follow- 
 ing thereon ? Had not Don Yittorio be- 
 trayed his love's confidence, and given her 
 up to insult and evil repute ? If he could
 
 SERPENT AND DOVE. 171 
 
 not control or mitigate the arrogant violence 
 of his mother's resentment, he could at least 
 have disowned it ! He' could have come 
 and stood by Lucy openly — he could have 
 written ! 
 
 All in vain ! I urged and urged in vain. 
 And it grieved me to the soul to think how 
 sharp the pain would be, how crushing the 
 blow, when Lucy should be convinced by 
 bitter experience that this idol she now 
 worshipped was a poor, hollow, brittle, 
 painted piece of clay. 
 
 The rest of that day passed miserably 
 enough. Lucy was really ill ; nervous, 
 languid, and unable to take food. Towards 
 four o'clock a violent headache oppressed 
 her, and I made her go to bed, and darkened 
 the windows ; for the light hurt her poor 
 eyes, inflamed with crying. Lucy had, 
 apparently, not thought of making any reply
 
 172 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 to the Princess Olympia's letter. But I had 
 thought of it. I would do nothing rashly, 
 but I had thought — not whether I should 
 answer the letter, for on that I was un- 
 shakably resolved — but how to answer it. 
 And I was still thinking, when I heard the 
 door of our sitting-room softly opened, and 
 a light footstep on the bare brick floor. 
 The step was very unlike S'ora Nanna's ox- 
 like tread. I turned my head, and saw 
 Monsignor Chiappaforti.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DUEL. 
 
 He came forward with a sweet sympathizing 
 look on his face — a look that needed but the 
 slightest modification to serve for various 
 occasions of condolence, from a broken tea- 
 cup and genteel comedy, up to a broken 
 heart and unfashionable tragedy. To which 
 category he was disposed to assign my 
 present troubles I was uncertain. I think 
 he was himself uncertain for a few seconds. 
 When he spoke it was in a moderate and 
 measured tone of sympathy, and his coun- 
 tenance was just a very little less sweet, as
 
 174 AMOAG ALIENS. 
 
 soon as he fully saw mine, than it had been 
 on his first entrance. ' This is a sad dis- 
 appointment, my dear Signorina,' he said. 
 ' I arrived here hoping to find both you and 
 our dear Lucia well and merry, and enjoying 
 your holiday, and now Don Gregorio tells 
 me that your sister is ill.' 
 
 ' Yes, Monsignore ; she is ill.' 
 
 ' Dear, dear, clear ! What is it ? A 
 touch of fever ? Have you any advice for 
 her ?' 
 
 ' I shall see that she is taken care of.' 
 
 ' I am sure you will. There can be no 
 doubt of that.' 
 
 I had risen from my seat when I saw 
 him, and remained standing, he also standing, 
 with his large ecclesiastical hat in his hand. 
 I was vividly conscious of the contrast 
 between my curt roughness of speech and 
 manner and his smooth politeness ; but I
 
 A DUEL. 175 
 
 was resolved to make no pretences, nor to 
 cry ' peace ' with my lips when there was 
 war in my heart. I did not doubt that 
 Monsignore was privy to the fact of the 
 Princess's cruel letter. Perhaps he had 
 even inspired it. Of this at least I was 
 sure, that all his feelings in the matter 
 would be ranged on her side and against us. 
 
 ' I hope my worthy friend Don Gregorio 
 Galli has been able to be of some use to you 
 here V said Monsignore, with an amiable 
 inflection of voice, which was so strongly 
 contrasted with the tone of mine as to be 
 almost ludicrous. 
 
 1 No doubt he meant well, but I cannot 
 say he has been of any use to us, Mon- 
 signore/ 
 
 < Ha, ha, ha ! No, eh ? Poor Don 
 Gregorio ! He is a good creature — a 
 worthy soul — but he has lived remote from
 
 176 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 the world and lacks savoir vivre, I dare 
 say, ha, ha, ha !' 
 
 ' Monsignor Chiappaforti, you must for- 
 give me if I speak abruptly. My sister is 
 ill. I am uneasy and troubled, and I 
 cannot now talk with you on indifferent 
 topics.' 
 
 The expression of his face changed at 
 once and completely, from smiling non- 
 chalance to steady gravity. He sat down, 
 put his hat on the table, and settling him- 
 self in his chair, said : ' Good. I under- 
 stand. Will you talk on a topic which is 
 not indifferent ? Will you talk on a topic 
 which concerns Lucia ?' 
 
 ' I cannot tell. I will not promise to 
 talk. But if you wish it, I will listen.' 
 
 Monsignore shrugged his shoulders very 
 slightly, and replied : ' That is something t 
 One must be thankful for the smallest con-
 
 A DUEL. 177 
 
 cession from so — ahem ! — admirably resolute 
 a person.' 
 
 I made no answer, but folded my hands 
 on the table before me and waited. 
 
 1 The fact is, that the Princess Corleoni 
 is displeased with Lucia ; very seriously dis- 
 pleased. This grieves me, I assure you.' 
 
 Here he paused, expecting me to speak, 
 but as I did not, he proceeded in the same 
 even, grave tone : ' Xow you love frankness, 
 and have strength of mind to bear it ; there- 
 fore I will say frankly that I think Lucia 
 has been to blame. Frankly now, do you 
 not think so yourself?' 
 
 ' Monsignore, to answer such a question 
 as that, made no part of my agreement with 
 you when I told you I would listen. How- 
 ever, before I could answer it, if I would, I 
 must know precisely what you mean in 
 asking it. To what point in my sister's 
 
 vol. 1. 12
 
 i 7 S A MO AG ALIENS. 
 
 conduct do you refer ? I take it for granted 
 that you have some special thing in your 
 mind for which you blame Lucy.' 
 
 ' Has not the Princess written to her V 
 he asked, taken a little on his guard. 
 
 ' The Princess has written to her.' 
 
 < Oh !' 
 
 He leant back in his chair, half closing 
 his eyes and nodding to himself as if he 
 were meditating my reply. In reality I 
 believe he felt himself checked by my 
 stubborn inflexibility. I think he had 
 reckoned on being able to lead me on to 
 talk, and then to guide my talking, as he 
 was accustomed to guide most persons, into 
 the direction he wished ; using either a 
 silken thread or a leathern thong, coaxing, 
 urging, or restraining, as the case- night 
 require. 
 
 But mv wrath burnt too hot within
 
 A DUEL. 179 
 
 me for such arts to avail. In truth, the 
 power of cunning — call it diplomacy, or 
 what other polite name you will — -seems to 
 me to be greatly overrated. In general, it 
 weaves only cobweb meshes which are 
 shattered at the first stirring of anv strong 
 and genuine feeling. Passion ignores and 
 overrides the ' laws of the game,' hacks 
 artful knots suddenly in two, and flings 
 a fierce sword into the nicely - balanced 
 scale. 
 
 I think Monsignor Giacomo Chiappaforti 
 scarcely made sufficient account of strong 
 and genuine feeling in his dealings with the 
 world. In the present case, instead of 
 saying to me, ' You are very indignant,' he 
 said, ' You are very cautious, Signorina.' 
 And I suppose he really credited me with 
 some deep scheme. 
 
 ' However,' he proceeded, ' my duty, and 
 
 12 — 2
 
 180 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 my strong feeling of interest in your sister, 
 alike command me to try to serve you. If 
 I am misunderstood patience !' 
 
 ' Monsignore, it is very easy to be under- 
 stood, I think. One has only to speak the 
 truth plainly.' 
 
 ' Alas ! How often is the truth rejected 
 and misinterpreted ! The head alone will 
 not suffice to receive it ; it must be accepted 
 by the heart. Intellect, my dear young 
 lady, is no all-sufficient guide of conduct. 
 But as to Lucia — you say the Princess has 
 written to her ?' 
 
 ' And you say so too, Monsignore.' 
 
 ' Ahem ! — yes ; I thought it likely, from 
 what she said to me, that she would write. 
 The Princess was much agitated. I trust 
 she did not write — ahem ! — a — a — in- 
 temperately V 
 
 1 She wrote very intemperately.'
 
 A DUEL. 181 
 
 ' Ah ! Dear, dear, dear, I feared so ! 
 But you must make allowance for the 
 feelings of a mother. The Princess is a 
 devoted mother ; — an exemplary mother. 
 When the maternal feelings are aroused, 
 women do not stop to calculate or measure 
 their words. We must have charity for the 
 imperfections of human nature.' 
 
 ' Monsignore, do you bring any message 
 from the Princess Corleoni V 
 
 The thought had suddenly struck me that 
 he had been sent to negotiate a reconciliation 
 with Lucy. 
 
 ' A message ? No ; oh no ! The Princess 
 was too — too excited, when I saw her last, 
 to think of sending a message to your sister. 
 No ; my visit to you is prompted by other 
 motives. Ahem ! You must be aware — 
 since you tell me the Princess has written, 
 and written in answer — that what has
 
 1 82 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 occurred places Lucia in a very sad and 
 painful position.' 
 
 ' Insult is certainly painful. And Lucy 
 is exceptionally sensitive.' 
 
 ' Ah ! yes ; but the matter is more serious 
 than that. The Princess Corleoni is a very 
 illustrious and influential lady. Her counte- 
 nance and friendship can do much in Rome ; 
 and — naturally — her disapproval, on the 
 other hand, carries with it a certain sort of 
 social stigma. Now Lucia, I grieve to say 
 it, has incurred her disapproval. I make 
 allowances for your English habits of 
 thought, and so forth ; but still, not even in 
 England, I believe, would it be considered 
 venial for a young woman in Lucia's position 
 to encourage the clandestine addresses of 
 her employer's son ! More particularly when 
 that employer was of a rank so immeasurably 
 superior to her own. You follow me ?'
 
 A DUEL. 183 
 
 ' You speak the language of the world, 
 Monsignore ; but at least you speak ex- 
 plicitly, and of course I understand you.' 
 
 * You have nothing to oppose to what I 
 say, Signorina ?' 
 
 ' I do not think I am called on to enter 
 into any defence of my sister to you, Mon- 
 signor Chiappaforti.' 
 
 ' You will, at all events, be called on to 
 undertake her defence to your own friends, 
 to the world you live in, to society ! Social 
 laws must be obeyed by those who wish to 
 profit by their protection.' 
 
 ' I renounce with contempt the " protec- 
 tion " of social laws which bully the weak 
 and cringe to the strong. I despise from 
 my soul the attempt to make mere compro- 
 mises with the world, the flesh, and the 
 devil, binding on my conscience as if they 
 were divine institutions.'
 
 1 84 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 My anger had flashed out in spite of me, 
 like a sudden tongue of flame from a smoul- 
 dering fire. The priest looked at me with 
 a new expression of surprise on his face, 
 mingled with sour aversion. 
 
 1 These are strange sentiments, Signorina,' 
 he said. ' I warn you that they are dangerous 
 sentiments. I gave you credit for more sober 
 sense than to be led away by such revolu- 
 tionary notions. I had hoped that you would 
 not encourage Lucia in conduct which gives 
 such pain to her benefactress, and can only 
 bring misery on herself. You, at least, must 
 be convinced that Don Vittorio Corleoni can 
 never marry your sister. It is too absurd an 
 idea to be seriously entertained for a moment. 
 The alternative, if she does not discourage 
 his pursuit, is one which T suppose you are 
 hardly prepared to accept, notwithstanding 
 your disdain for the laws of society !'
 
 A DUEL. 185 
 
 At that moment I had a glimpse, not 
 often vouchsafed to the profane vulgar, of 
 the real Giacomo Chiappaforti, instead 
 of the smooth, smiling, soft- voiced prelate, 
 whose bonhomie and infantine gaiety of 
 manner were so lauded and admired. And 
 let me give Monsignore all the benefit to be 
 obtained from the confession that, to me, the 
 reality was preferable to the sham. The 
 sham had disgusted and weaiied me with its 
 perpetual smile, its ready laugh from the 
 teeth outward, its smooth, yet resolute 
 ignoring of rough realities which were hurt- 
 ing other folks. 
 
 But now at last the real Giacomo Chiap- 
 paforti showed that he could be in ear- 
 nest on occasion. His mouth was drawn 
 into an expression of the bitterest sarcasm, 
 his eyes glittered angrily, his very voice 
 was changed, and had a hard metallic
 
 1 86 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 sound. This man was at least human enough 
 to hate, it seemed. 
 
 ' Then, Monsignore,' I said, disregarding 
 his sneer against myself, 'you judge Don 
 Vittorio Corleoni capable of dishonourably 
 pursuing an innocent, motherless girl, a 
 stranger, beneath his mother's roof? The 
 Princess judges as you judge, and yet 
 neither of you have anathemas for him ! 
 The " social laws" which Lucy is to obey 
 on pain of losing their valuable protection 
 have no protection to give her, nor any 
 terrors for the man who would injure her ! 
 The morality which is revolted by Lucy's 
 wickedness in believing a cruel lie, holds a 
 sweetly charitable estimate of the liar.' 
 
 ' Tut, tut !' exclaimed Chiappaforti, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders, and fixing his mouth 
 into a hard, cynical smile — ' tut, tut, tut ! 
 This is the kind of high-flown sentimentality
 
 A DUEL. 187 
 
 which might serve to excuse any offence, or 
 crime, or blunder ; and very often does, I 
 believe, amongst the philanthropic worship- 
 pers of revolution and irreligion. As to 
 Lucia, I am willing to give her credit for 
 innocence of intention at the beginning — 
 youthful vanity is a great temptation, and 
 hoodwinks the conscience. But the world 
 will not judge so leniently. The world will 
 say — unless the Princess can be induced to 
 keep this unfortunate matter secret — that a 
 young woman living with the liberty which 
 is permitted to girls of your nation could 
 not possibly be ignorant of the probable 
 result of encouraging Don Vittorio's love- 
 making in such a case. The world will say 
 that Lucia perhaps played for the great 
 prize of wife, but failing that, would not 
 
 disdain to content herself with ' 
 
 * Be silent, sir ! This conversation is
 
 1 88 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 worse than useless. I have nothing to say 
 to you. I recognise no right on your part 
 to intrude yourself into my private life. A 
 benevolent intention might excuse it ; but 
 you are evidently actuated by feelings which 
 are not benevolent.' 
 
 ' Young woman, I am not accustomed to 
 be so addressed.' 
 
 < Nor I.' 
 
 ' I am fulfilling my duty ' 
 
 ' If so, your duty and my duty clash. 
 This is my house, Monsignore. I request 
 you, as you are a gentleman, to leave 
 it.' 
 
 ' Before doing so, I wish to speak with 
 your sister.' 
 
 ' I shall oppose your seeing her. She is 
 too much prostrated to be equal to such an 
 interview.' 
 
 ' Do you mean to shut her up ? You
 
 A DUEL. 189 
 
 had better be careful about what you are 
 doing f 
 
 ' Oh, sir, do not condescend to threaten 
 me ! I am not to be terrified by stern 
 looks and big words. I am ashamed to 
 continue this scene ! Let it end. Since 
 you refuse to go, I will leave you.' 
 
 No sooner said than done. I passed 
 swiftly out of the room, along the corridor, 
 and up the stairs which led to our bedroom, 
 leaving Monsignore in a position of con- 
 siderable discomfiture. As I went through 
 the stone corridor, I fancied I saw some- 
 thing flitting on in front of me ; and before I 
 reached our bedroom door, I overtook Lucy, 
 trembling and panting with the haste she 
 had made. 
 
 ' Lucy !' I cried, ' what does this mean ? 
 Where have you been ? Why did you leave 
 your bed V
 
 i 9 o AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 She drew me into the room and shut the 
 door before she answered, and then, sitting 1 
 down on the side of the bed, she laid her 
 head against my breast, and said, ' I fell 
 asleep after you left me, and when I awoke 
 my headache was gone. I felt better, 
 calmer, less fevered and nervous, than I 
 have felt since I read that letter. I 
 wrapped a shawl round me and came down 
 to the sitting-room to tell you this, and to 
 give you one gleam of comfort in the midst 
 of all the trouble I cause you. When I 
 reached the door, I heard a voice speaking 
 angrily. I did not recognise it at first, it 
 was so changed. But after a few moments 
 I found it was Monsignor Chiappaforti 
 who was speaking. And then you answered 
 him. And I stood there out of sight, and 
 — and I heard it all, Catherine !'
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE RAW MATERIAL. 
 
 ' But, Catty dear,' said my sister to me the 
 next morning, when we were pacing slowly 
 together, arm in arm, out of the sunshine 
 into the shadow, and out of the shadow into 
 the sunshine, in the gardens of the Villa 
 d'Este, ' Catty dear, I cannot think that 
 Vittorio meant to deceive me.' 
 
 Lucy was still pale and weak, with heavy 
 circles round her pretty blue eyes, and her 
 gown, which had fitted her so neatly two 
 months ago, hanging loosely about her 
 meagre form ; but the blue eyes had a
 
 i 9 2 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 bright, steady look of resolution in them 
 which was new, and her slender figure no 
 longer drooped in the listless way which it 
 had so pained me to see. We had talked 
 and talked half the night through ; and for 
 the first time for many weeks I had felt that 
 Lucy was speaking her whole mind, and her 
 whole heart, which was better, to me. The 
 veil through which we had been seeing each 
 other dimly was gone. My own candid, 
 simple-minded little Lucy had come back to 
 me, and my heart was lightened of a load. 
 The very half-soft, half-stubborn way she 
 had of persisting in her own opinion about 
 that poor creature, Yittorio Corleoni, re- 
 minded me of the fair mite of a child, with 
 a wide forehead and sensitive mouth, whom 
 my brother used to call little Square-toes in 
 her nursery days ; declaring that her small 
 shoes w T ith straps to them (how small they
 
 THE RA W MATERIAL. 193 
 
 were !) had a certain air of innocent 
 obstinacy, which gave them a mysterious 
 resemblance to their owner. 
 
 ' Lucy,' said I, ' we will not discuss Don 
 Vittorio unless you choose. But if we are 
 to discuss him I must speak out my thoughts, 
 must I not ?' 
 
 1 Y — es, Catherine.' Then after a minute's 
 pause she added more firmly, ' Yes. Speak 
 out. It is best, although it may hurt a 
 little for the moment. And, Catherine, I 
 have been thinking and thinking, and trying 
 to see things sincerely ; and one thing I 
 have seen. And that is, that if what you 
 say pains me, what I say may equally pain 
 you !' 
 
 1 True, Lucy. Fairly and honestly said.' 
 
 I was pleased to hear her say this — none 
 the less pleased because I thought it augured 
 worse for the influence over her of Monsignor 
 
 vol. 1. 13
 
 i 9 4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Chiappaforti, and the special advocates of 
 his Church, than any utterance from her 
 lips which I could recall. And on this clear 
 and open footing we discussed together the 
 whole story of Don Vittorio's wooing from 
 the beginning, and of the Princess's singular 
 sweetness, followed by sudden severity, and 
 of Monsignore's part in the little drama. 
 The cool, easy, matter-of-course way in 
 which Monsignore had accepted it as certain 
 that Don Vittorio meant to deceive Lucy, 
 and betray her trust and love, had, I could 
 see, perilously shaken that dignitary's posi- 
 tion in my sister's estimation, even if it had 
 not toppled him over altogether. T well 
 knew that Monsignore would never have 
 spoken as he did speak had he known that 
 Lucy was within earshot. He might, in- 
 deed, have expressed the same meaning, but 
 in a very, very different tone. However, I
 
 THE RA W MA TERIAL. 195 
 
 did not insist on this point, thinking it best 
 to leave time, and reflection, and her own 
 conscience to do their silent work in her 
 mind. But she clung to her belief in Don 
 Vittorio's truth and honour with a tenacity 
 that made me sad. And yet I loved her 
 for it. 
 
 ' Why, Catherine, can I doubt him merely 
 
 because others do ? I should be ' She 
 
 paused, and the tears sprang to her eyes and 
 her cheeks flushed ; but she bravely finished 
 her sentence without a sob — ' I should be as 
 bad as the Princess thinks me, if I didn't 
 believe in Yittorio with all my heart.' 
 
 ' Ah, my child, don't nurse vain hopes 
 and illusions !' 
 
 ' As to hopes — no. I see now very 
 clearly that we were both foolish. Who 
 am I that he should stoop to marry me ? 
 It was a foolish dream, and I see now that 
 
 13—2
 
 196 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 it was selfish of me to think of — of being 
 his wife. He ought to marry a lady of his 
 own rank, with riches and beauty, and all 
 good gifts far above mine. And I — hope he 
 will. But I don't want him to forget me 
 altogether. I want him to think of me 
 always as wishing him well and happy, and 
 praying for God's blessing on him and his. 
 As for me, I shall never care for anyone 
 else — never, never. But I dare say that 
 some day I shall be glad to think that I 
 didn't ruin his life and separate him from his 
 own people. And he will get over this 
 trouble, and love someone else — as I never, 
 never can. But then — men are different. 
 He won't be to blame, Catherine.' 
 
 The tears were streaming down her pale 
 cheeks now, but yet her face had a look of 
 serenitv through it all. It was better for 
 her to talk freely than to keep her innocent
 
 THE RA W MA TERIAL. 1 9 7 
 
 sorrows to herself. ' And so, perhaps, Lucy 
 may be spared the rude disenchantment 
 which I feared for her ; and may be able to 
 look back in future years, when she is a 
 happy wife and mother, on this love-story 
 with a pleasant tenderness, as one remem- 
 bers the dreams of childhood.' 
 
 Thus ran my thoughts. For, you see, I 
 paid very little heed to Lucy's protestations 
 that she could never, never love anyone else. 
 She believed it. But at her age, and with 
 her character, that was as natural as that 
 she should be mistaken in so believing. 
 
 1 No,' said she, drying her eyes, as she 
 stood with her face turned towards the great 
 plain, with Rome rising from its misty 
 horizon like a phantom city ; ' no, that is 
 over for me. But human beings have 
 different ofifts and different missions, and 
 perhaps too much earthly happiness may
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 clog the wings of the spirit, especially if it 
 is but a weak, faltering spirit like mine — 
 and some of us may need sorrow and dis- 
 appointment to teach us the beauty and 
 value of a prayerful life.' 
 
 ' Well/ I answered, '"Laborare est orare" 
 you know, Lucy. And I must not lose any 
 more of the daylight, but set to work on my 
 study of that gentle damsel, Monica.' 
 
 I cannot tell why — I have never been 
 able to account for the thought coming into 
 my head precisely then, and not sooner — 
 but the fact is, that scarcely had I uttered 
 the last words about Monica, when a sudden 
 idea — almost a conviction — rushed into my 
 mind in connection with her, and sent a hot, 
 startled flush over my face. Lucy did not 
 see it, for she was still gazing out at the 
 view in an absent-minded way. We left the 
 Villa d'Este, and returned to our lodgings
 
 THE RA W MATERIAL. 199 
 
 together. I thought my sister had had 
 walking enough, and advised her to lie down 
 and rest awhile whilst I worked. She de- 
 clared that she was not tired, and that she 
 wished to do something for me, who was 
 always so industrious and ready to work 
 under difficulties ; and she proposed to finish 
 a piece of needlework that I had in hand. 
 But when we had climbed up the dark, dirty 
 stone staircase leading" to our abode, she was 
 obliged to own herself very weary, and to 
 take my advice about lying down. 
 
 ' I shall only lie still some half hour or so, 
 Catherine,' she said, ' and then come and 
 have a look at your study, if I may. I 
 should like to see Monica again, too. I 
 wonder what became of that poor girl — her 
 brother's sweetheart, you know. Poor thing! 
 to be taken away from her home and her 
 innocent country life, and the love of an
 
 200 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 honest man — and then deserted ! How sad 
 it is to think of ! I have thought of that 
 girl several times since you told me the 
 story.' 
 
 It disturbed me greatly to hear her begin 
 on this theme, after the idea which had 
 flashed into my mind in the Villa d'Este ; 
 and I had not been in presence of my model 
 two minutes before she (Monica) said 
 abruptly, staring at me loweringly with her 
 great dark eyes, ' You never told me you 
 knew him, when I was talking to you so 
 free and open the other day.' 
 
 I knew as well what was coming as if I 
 had had it printed clearly on a page before 
 my eyes. But it was necessary to preserve 
 my cool self-command with Monica, under 
 penalty of forfeiting what little influence I 
 had acquired over her. So I answered 
 quietly, ' In the first place, draw that phut
 
 THE RA W MA TERIAL. 201 
 
 more forward, and let it shade the throat — 
 so !' (I was pointing at the tresses of her 
 wonderful blue-black, coarse, thick hair.) 
 ' And in the next place, speak clearly if you 
 want me to understand you.' 
 
 She had mechanically obeyed my injunc- 
 tions as to the disposition of her hair, but 
 continued to glare at me with an expression 
 like that of a buffalo-calf — if you have never 
 chanced to see one of those savage denizens 
 of the Campagna, I may tell you that the 
 habitual expression of a young buffalo is not 
 prepossessing, being at once sullen and dis- 
 trustful ; w T hilst that of an old buffalo is in 
 general diabolic. 
 
 * Well,' resumed Monica, after a short 
 pause, ' if you don't know him your sister 
 does. I saw her on Wednesday coming out 
 of the gardens of the Villa d'Este, and I 
 said to someone I know — he wheels the
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 barrow to pick up the dead leaves in there 
 — "That's an English girl," said I, "her 
 with the hair like gold, and the face like the 
 Madonna in our church at home." And he 
 says, " Well, I should think I know that ! 
 She comes here every day to walk, and she's 
 a grand Signora !" I laughed in his face, 
 and called him pumpkin-head, and I says, 
 " She a grand Signora ? Go, you fool ! 
 She's only a poor teacher, and her sister is 
 an artist who paints for money !" Grand 
 ladies never do anything for money — do 
 they ?' 
 
 ' H'm ! I can't undertake to answer for 
 them, Monica.' 
 
 ' Well, anyhow, you and your sister are 
 not grand ladies, are you ?' 
 
 ' Certainly not. As to that there can be 
 no manner of doubt.' 
 
 ' Ha ! I told Cecco so. But he's as
 
 THE RA JV MA TERIA L 203 
 
 stubborn as our old black mule, and he stood 
 me out that she was a grand Signora because 
 the parish priest made so much fuss about 
 her, and took off his hat, and because a 
 grand Signore walked about in the gardens 
 with her, and rode away on a horse that 
 shone like a ripe chestnut. " What !" says 
 I, " a horse that shines like a chestnut ! Is 
 the man — maybe he's considered handsome, 
 with gold-brown hair on his face, and a gold 
 chain, and spurs that go clink, clink on the 
 stones ?" And when Cecco said, " Yes, that 
 was the man," I asked his name — may the 
 fiend carry him away ! — and Cecco told it 
 me, and then it all came back, like when 
 you wake up in the morning and remember 
 yesterday, and I knew that that accursed 
 Signore who sent Pasquale to the galleys 
 was Vittorio Corleoni.'
 
 2o 4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 1 Oh ! Turn your head a little more to 
 the right.' 
 
 ' Well, but say, how did your sister come 
 to know him ? And why did you say 
 nothing about knowing him when I spoke to 
 you the other day ? Are you a traitress, 
 too ? I thought you always said what was 
 true.' 
 
 It must not be supposed that this estimate 
 of my veracity was by any means wholly 
 complimentary in Monica's opinion. She 
 had never been taught to look on truthful- 
 ness as a virtue, and there might easily 
 arise occasions on which truthfulness would 
 appear to her in the light of mere imbecility, 
 and lack of resource. Still, the fact that 
 she had come to expect the truth from me 
 as a matter of course, naturally strengthened 
 my influence over her. And her ignorance 
 and credulity, where she did believe, were as
 
 THE RA W MA TERIAL. 205 
 
 boundless as her power of attributing evil 
 motives, and cherishing cunning suspicions, 
 where she doubted. 
 
 ' No, Monica, I am not a traitress, as you 
 call it. But you forget that I did not 
 know the name of the gentleman you had 
 been talking of. I believe you did not 
 know it yourself.' 
 
 1 Ay ! I had forgotten it. At least I 
 had it in my mind somehow — hid away in 
 the dark. His father has an estate over 
 yonder,' jerking her head towards the south, 
 ' where I come from. He goes there to 
 shoot. He, that Vittorio — maledictions on 
 his head ! — don't go there now. He is 
 afraid, perhaps !' Here Monica laughed, a 
 fierce, scornful, tuneless laugh, and then, with 
 a deep guttural ' Ah-h-h !' she spat on the 
 floor, and made a contemptuous gesture with 
 her quick brown hand.
 
 206 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 1 Come, come ! Sit steady,' said I au- 
 thoritatively. 
 
 ' Madonna mine, when I think of that 
 beast !' 
 
 ' Don't think of him. You have thought 
 of him enough. Think rather of some good 
 person. It will be better for you.' 
 
 This idea, being a novel one, seemed to 
 take hold of my young European savage, 
 and kept her quiet for a time. I profited 
 by the peaceful interval, and by the medita- 
 tive expression of her face, always pathetic 
 in repose, and worked away zealously. 
 
 ' I don't know who to think of,' said 
 Monica, after a while, looking up at me 
 blankly. 
 
 1 Sit still, at any rate ! I have just be- 
 gun to get the look I wanted !' 
 
 At this moment Lucy came into the 
 room, and, standing behind my easel, softly
 
 THE RA IV MATERIAL. 207 
 
 clapped her hands in approval. ' Oh, Cathe- 
 rine, how beautifully you are getting on !' 
 she cried. ' This head is the best thine: you 
 have ever done !' 
 
 1 Which would not be saying anything 
 stupendous in the way of praise, either ! 
 Still, it is, of course, satisfactory to recognise 
 some progress ; and I think this study does 
 show some improvement. But this monkey 
 is the most tiresome of sitters. If she 
 would be quiet for one half-hour it would be 
 worth a hundred francs to me.' 
 
 ' Let me talk to her, and try to keep her 
 amused. What sort of things do you find 
 to say to her ?' 
 
 ' Well, our range of topics is not large. 
 Just now I advised her to think of some 
 good person, and I believe she tried ; but 
 apparently she never knew any good per- 
 sons.'
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 1 Who came into your mind, Monica, 
 when you were trying to think of some good 
 person ?' added Lucy, in Italian. 
 
 Monica regarded her doubtfully, and 
 shook her head. ' I suppose the saints are 
 good/ she said ; ' but I don't know them, 
 and they live up in Paradise.' 
 
 ' Who taught you about the saints, 
 Monica ?' 
 
 ' Padre Bossi, our curate. He's dead. 
 He was ever so old.' 
 
 ' Well, he was good ; was he not ?' 
 
 ' No. He used to beat the boys over 
 the head when they laughed at Vespers.' 
 
 This was undoubtedly disconcerting. 
 However, after a minute or two, Lucy, who 
 had taken out her needlework, and seated 
 herself in such a position as to attract 
 Monica's head and throat into the right turn 
 for my purpose, softly resumed :
 
 THE RA W MATERIAL. 209 
 
 ' Is your mother alive, Monica V 
 
 1 Mamma ? jSTo ; mamma is dead. 
 Daddy is dead, too. My grandmother is 
 alive. She lives here in Tivoli.' 
 
 ' Poor Monica ! My mother is dead, 
 too r 
 
 The girl fixed her eye contemplatively on 
 Lucy. 
 
 * Was she pretty, your mamma V she 
 said, after a short pause. 
 
 1 Yes ; I believe she was. I do not 
 remember her. I was a little baby when 
 she died.' 
 
 ' Ha ! I can remember my mamma. She 
 was handsome, I can tell you. I am like 
 her. I am a fine girl, you know, only the 
 accursed fever has made me yellow in the 
 face.' 
 
 I don't think any home-bred English 
 person could believe with what absolute 
 
 vol. 1. 14
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 phlegmatic simplicity, and absence of blush- 
 ing or bridling, Monica pronounced the 
 dictum that she was a fine girl. 
 
 ' Tell me about your mamma, Monica/ 
 said Lucy, in her sweet, coaxing little voice. 
 
 At first Monica seemed unable to find 
 anything to tell ; but a few skilful questions 
 set her on the right track, and soon she was 
 in a full flow of talk, recalling this and 
 that circumstance of her childhood, with a 
 plaintive, thoughtful look in her magnificent 
 eyes (which look was chiefly the result of an 
 effort to remember, and had nothing to do 
 with soft emotion — but no matter ; it came 
 out adorably on canvas), and a subdued tone 
 in her harsh voice, caught by instinctive 
 imitation from Lucy's. 
 
 ' There,' said I, releasing the thumb of my 
 left hand from its durance in the hole of the 
 palette ; ' enough for this sitting. Lucy, I
 
 THE RA W MA TERIAL. 2 1 1 
 
 am ever so much obliged to you. You 
 have been as potent over this untamed 
 young animal as Orpheus over the lions and 
 tigers. Isn't she like a panther ? How- 
 ever, to-day I have really done a good 
 stroke of work.' 
 
 The sitting had been highly successful 
 and satisfactory to us all three. And 
 Monica inquired with much interest whether 
 the Signorina Lucia would be there next 
 time. ' Because,' said she confidentially to 
 me when Lucy had left the room, ' she 
 diverts me ; and I like to look at her curls. 
 They are like the Gesii Bambino's, in 
 the manger, at Christmas. Have you 
 ever seen that ? But, oh no ! I forgot. 
 You are not Christians, you two. Some 
 foreigners are Christians, though ; I've seen 
 them at Mass.' 
 
 ' Look here, Monica : if you would like 
 
 14 — 2
 
 2i2 AMONG ALIENS, 
 
 to have the Signorina Lucia here at your 
 next sitting, you must promise me to be 
 good ' 
 
 ' Oh, I'll be good ! I'll swear if you like, 
 by ' 
 
 ' No, no ; I don't wish you to swear. 
 You must promise to be good ; and you 
 must promise something else. You must 
 promise me faithfully not to speak to the 
 Signorina of Don Vittorio Corleoni.' 
 
 She broke out into a string of . oaths 
 which would have been forcible in the mouth 
 of a carter, and ended by saying disdain- 
 fully, ' / talk of him ? I spit on him ! 
 There !' and suiting the action vigorously 
 to the word. 
 
 ' The worst of it is,' said I coolly, ' that 
 you don't spit on him, but on my floor. I 
 cannot allow that sort of thing in my 
 studio.'
 
 THE RA IV MA TERIAL. 2 1 3 
 
 I had often observed that Monica, de- 
 spite her more than bucolic ruggedness and 
 roughness, was, like most of her country 
 people, vulnerable to sarcasm. Any approach 
 to being ridiculed stung her severely, when- 
 ever she perceived it. So now she turned 
 angry in a moment, contracting her black 
 eyebrows, and looking at me with fierce, 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 ' Well,' I asked, as coolly as before ; ' is it 
 a bargain V 
 
 ' Why shall I not speak of that devilish 
 beast to her?' returned Monica sullenly. 
 Then, with a quick dart of suspicion, ' Ah, 
 you like him S He is your friend, eh ? I 
 must say nothing against him, eh ? Wait ! 
 You'll see if I care for him, or Don Gregorio, 
 or any of them. Don Gregorio. may take 
 off his dirty old hat if he likes ; as for me, 
 I '
 
 2i 4 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 ' Not on my floor, Monica,' I said, very 
 quietly, holding up at the same time a warn- 
 ing finger. 
 
 For an instant she looked undecided ; but 
 then, with another quick impulse, she began 
 to laugh, showing her square, white teeth, 
 and wiping her lips with her apron. Seeing 
 her in this mood, I smiled too, and added, 
 ' Come, I don't mind telling you this much : 
 I dislike and despise Don Vittorio Corleoni 
 as much as you can. He is no friend of 
 mine, or of my sister's. His mother has 
 behaved unkindly to her, and — frankly — I 
 don't love any of the family. But, for 
 reasons which you cannot understand, I will 
 not have them talked of to my sister. If 
 you don't choose to obey me, you must not 
 come here. You know that I mean what I 
 
 say. 
 
 Monica had listened with an eager and a
 
 THE RA IV MATERIAL. 
 
 215 
 
 brightening face. It delighted her to hear 
 me say that I disliked the Corleonis. ' His 
 mother, too, eh !' she said, nodding her head 
 contemptuously. ' She was unkind, was 
 she ? They are beasts all ! An accursed 
 family ! And I hope the saints will send 
 them all to perdition !' 
 
 With which pious and original invocation 
 of the good offices of the saints, Monica 
 threw a bright tartan shawl (my gift to her) 
 over her peasant costume, and prepared to 
 depart. But before she went away she 
 gave the promise I had required of her, 
 merely making the condition that I should 
 allow her to ease her mind occasionally by 
 talking of ' that accursed one ' to me, when- 
 soever the spirit should move her.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 'A WORM i' THE BUD.' 
 
 My sister gradually recovered from the shock 
 of the Princess's letter. Nay, to say the 
 truth, she recovered from it more quickly 
 than I did. Her very humility helped her. 
 In the gentleness of her nature she bent like 
 a reed before the harsh wind ; but, like a 
 reed, she rose again when it had passed. I 
 was less inflexible. I could neither submit 
 nor forget. My soul protested and cried 
 out against the treatment Lucy had received ; 
 and even if it had not been in my character 
 to feel the injustice of this injury keenly, the
 
 'A WORM V THE BUD: 217 
 
 sight of Lucy's pale face would have been 
 sufficient to keep my indignation alive. 
 For although I have said she recovered 
 from the shock and prostration occasioned 
 by that cruel letter, yet she was very far 
 from being the sunny-tempered Lucy with 
 blush-rose cheeks whom I had brought from 
 England a year and a half ago. Poor little 
 thing ! I began to fear that, for her, the 
 blossom and sweetness of youth had been 
 rudely destroyed. That flower fades for us 
 all. It is the doom of earthly things. 
 But for the happier sort of mortals it 
 changes naturally and imperceptibly, as the 
 fresh green of spring gives place to the gold 
 and russet of July and October in their 
 appointed seasons ; and I had hoped that 
 my Lucy might be numbered among the 
 happier sort of mortals. Certainly our 
 poverty and obscurity would not have
 
 218 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 hindered her happiness, for she had been 
 as cheerful as the day until lately. Poor 
 little thing ! Well, I could but work hard 
 in the present, and hope in the future. Lucy 
 was but eighteen, after all. 
 
 One or two days passed quietly. Don 
 Gregorio did not come near us. And, in- 
 deed, I believe that I had frightened him 
 nearly out of his wits ; for when, one morning, 
 I chanced to see him talking to a farmer in 
 the street, he turned away, and darted off up 
 a by-lane in a violent hurry, leaving his in- 
 terlocutor gaping after him, utterly unable 
 to discover what it was that had put the 
 reverend gentleman to flight. Monsignor 
 Chiappaforti, however, did not retire from 
 the field and wash his hands of us after his 
 somewhat stormy interview with me. He 
 came again the very next day, but without 
 asking to see either me or Lucy. He
 
 % A WORM I' THE BUD: 219 
 
 merely left his card, with a polite message 
 of inquiry for the Signorina Lucia. Our 
 landlady, S'ora Nanna, was greatly impressed 
 by these attentions, and began, I think, to 
 consider us personages of some importance, 
 which up to that time she had evidently not 
 done, I am bound to say. 
 
 At length, one afternoon when I returned 
 from painting out of doors, I found Mon- 
 signore in our sitting-room with Lucy. He 
 saluted me courteously, and I could not help 
 admiring the tact and discrimination of his 
 behaviour towards us both. In general I 
 had thought his manner below his reputation 
 for talent ; but upon this occasion Monsignore 
 was superior to his usual self from a histrionic 
 point of view. He adapted his face, his 
 voice, and his manner to the circumstances 
 of the case. It was the more clever, inas- 
 much as Nature had not fitted him for the
 
 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 part of a feeling friend. Like one or two 
 other persons conspicuous for jollity, and 
 renowned for bonhomie, whom I have met 
 with, Monsignor Chiappaforti's smiles and 
 ready laughter always appeared to me to 
 indicate an almost absolute moral isolation 
 — a curious and painful want of sympathy. 
 I know that he did not produce this im- 
 pression on everyone. On the contrary, the 
 world said how delightfully genial Monsignore 
 was. But for my own part, rightly or 
 wrongly, I found his uniform hilarity almost 
 repulsive ; and when Monsignore's infantine 
 laugh raised answering smiles on every face 
 around, it was an odd and unpleasant sensa- 
 tion to be conscious, as I was, of a dreary 
 depression of spirits. 
 
 However, to-day he was serious, placid 
 and friendly in his tone. I know not what 
 he had been saying to Lucy before my
 
 l A WOFM V THE BUD: 221 
 
 arrival ; but after I joined them he talked 
 pleasantly enough, and avoided all subjects 
 which might have aroused emotion. He 
 talked of the places of interest in the neigh- 
 bourhood, of Hadrian's Villa, of the Villa of 
 Varus, and so forth. Perhaps his antiquarian 
 lore was not profound ; but it was certainly 
 great in comparison with our ignorance. 
 And, in spite of my dislike and distrust of 
 the man, I found myself listening with 
 interest to what he had to say. Among the 
 excursions he recommended was one to 
 Monte Gennaro — the Mons Lucretilis of 
 Horace — and to the site of the poet's villa, 
 near Licenza. On the subject of this latter 
 Monsignore grew warm. He, for his part, 
 was convinced that the ploughed field, under 
 w T hose soil the peasant proprietor will show 
 you a fragment of mosaic pavement, was the 
 veritable site of Horace's Sabine farm.
 
 222 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 Other archaeologists differed from him here, 
 it is needless to say, and differed from each 
 other ; and every one of them irrefragably 
 proved himself to be right (at least to his 
 own satisfaction) by masses of quotations 
 from all sorts of authors. 
 
 ' Ah, I wish you could see the view from 
 the top of Monte Gennaro, and then get 
 down to the farm close to Licenza !' said 
 Monsismore. ' A charming excursion ! You 
 could go on ponies. I made it on foot when 
 I was a schoolboy at Mondragone with my 
 tutor, Don Anselmo — a very learned man, a 
 great classical scholar, one of the vieille roche 
 who belonged to the days when we liacl 
 some learning and culture in Rome. We 
 did not teach boys and girls out of the 
 gutter music and algebra, to be sure ; but, 
 then, en revanche, our professors had some 
 erudition — could even speak and write their
 
 'A WORM F THE BUD? 223 
 
 own language correctly, for example, in- 
 credible as the statement may appear to you 
 nowadays !' 
 
 So Monsignore chatted on for some quarter 
 of an hour, and when he took his leave T 
 felt more charitably disposed towards him 
 than I had ever done yet. I asked Lucy 
 what he had been saying to her before I 
 came in, and she answered with a serious 
 look that he had been speaking of the conso- 
 lations of religion. 
 
 The unexpected break-up of our relations 
 with the Corleonis released us from the 
 obligation of returning to Rome at the 
 expiration of a fortnight, and I thought it 
 would be well for us to prolong our stay at 
 Tivoli for a few weeks. It was a great 
 point with me to keep Lucy away from the 
 associations of our Roman life, until she 
 should be strong enough in mind and body
 
 224 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 to bear the sight of the familiar places and 
 people without breaking down. I pro- 
 posed to her, therefore, that we should 
 remain in Tivoli until the end of April, and 
 she acquiesced in the proposition with gentle 
 listlessness. Yes ; let it be as I pleased. 
 She would willingly remain. She wanted 
 to see my picture begun, but she supposed 
 I might work at it here as well as in Rome. 
 Of her own feelings or wishes not a word 
 did she say. This listlessness it was, in 
 truth, which made me anxious on her 
 account. It was so unnatural at her age, 
 and so foreign to her former warm-hearted, 
 eager way, that I could not help fearing it 
 indicated a morbid state of bodily weakness. 
 Almost rather would I have seen her give 
 way to passionate regrets, which would have 
 worn themselves out, than accept her sorrow 
 with this uncomplaining quietude.
 
 l A WORM T THE BUD: 22 5 
 
 There was onlv one thinQf which seemed 
 to arouse her interest and take her out of 
 her sad meditations ; and that one thing, 
 strangely enough, was the company of my 
 model, Monica. Perhaps it was the fact 
 that Monica was utterly removed from parti- 
 cipation in the story of her life in Rome ; 
 perhaps Lucy, in her kindness of heart, 
 wished to exercise a o-ood influence over the 
 undisciplined creature ; perhaps the mere 
 novelty and strangeness of Monica's un- 
 civilized sayings and doings reallv amused 
 her ; in short, whatever were the cause, it is 
 certain that Lucy never looked and spoke so 
 like her old self as when she sat by, needle- 
 work in hand, whilst I painted from Monica, 
 and listening or talking to that wild 
 daughter of the Campagna. On her part, 
 Monica had some attachment for Lucy, in 
 her rough way, and a great admiration for 
 
 vol. i. 15
 
 226 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 her delicate blonde beauty. But she assumed 
 a protecting air towards my sister which was 
 very comic and curious. 
 
 ' Poveretta f she would exclaim. ' Poor 
 little thing ! Just see her fingers sewing 
 that handkerchief. Hoiv small and fine they 
 are — fine, fine ! And her curls are as 
 
 soft ! just like the Gesu Bambino. 
 
 Don't let her sew too much. She'll be 
 tired.' Or else, ' Why does not the Signo- 
 rina divert herself more ? She never goes 
 to hear the band play on Sundays. She has 
 no diversions — and she is so young ! You 
 ought not to let her be so melancholy. 
 Mamma mia ! would / sit at home like that, 
 and never enjoy a festa f 
 
 Once, by way of drawing her out, I said, 
 ' Well, but how is it that you don't mind 
 my being melancholy, as you call it, Monica ? 
 I never go to hear the band play, either/
 
 'A WORM I' THE BUD! 227 
 
 She looked at me quickly, with her head 
 on one side. ' A h si ! Per bacco, that's 
 true enough !' she replied, after a second's 
 pause. ' And you're not old. How old are 
 you ?' 
 
 1 Twenty-four.' 
 
 •' E — e — e — eh ! That's more than I 
 thought. Still, it's not so very old. But 
 — you ain't so pretty and fair as the 
 Signorina Lucia. Her skin is like the wax 
 angel in the presepio at Christmas, and her 
 curls are as soft — just like the Gesii 
 Bambino, as I always say. Poveretta ! she 
 ought to have some diversion.' 
 
 ' Well, well, Monica,' I answered one day 
 to a speech of this kind ; ' she shall have 
 some diversion. We will make a beautiful 
 excursion to Monte Gennaro, and to Licenza. 
 It will be lovely one of these fine spring 
 days. And if you're good, and sit nicely 
 
 15 — 2
 
 228 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 for me all this week, you may come, too. 
 You said you wanted to go to Licenza.' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Monica, ' so I do. I 
 want to see my aunt, granny's youngest 
 daughter, who lives there. Granny's too 
 old to go. But — will that divert the 
 Signorina ? Once I went to Licenza for my 
 cousin's wedding. We had a tambourine, 
 and we danced. That was famous ! But 
 — only just to go there in the daytime and 
 see all those big hills, and the river, and the 
 women washing on a work-day — h'm ! I 
 don't believe that will divert her !' 
 
 And Monica shook her head with a dis- 
 appointed air. Still, the promised excursion 
 was something to look forward to, and she 
 was on her best behaviour for several days, 
 to induce me to let her go. 
 
 I should not have thought of attempting 
 it, except for the hope that we might have
 
 l A WORM P THE BUD: 229 
 
 Sisfnor Sanclro with us on the occasion. He 
 had sent me one of his brief, hieroglyphical 
 communications by post, informing me that 
 he thought he should come over to Tivoli 
 for a day or so, to look at my work, and get 
 a breath of country air. If he would accom- 
 pany us, I thought the excursion might be 
 managed ; and for my own part I was very 
 anxious to make it. Lucy showed little 
 interest in the project, or, indeed, in any 
 project or incident of our daily lives. She 
 seemed to me to be like a person breath- 
 lessly waiting for an expected footstep, to 
 whom all other sounds are merely disturb- 
 ing. An eating suspense wore her spirit 
 day by day. Once, when I said some word 
 to her about the necessity of rousing her 
 mind from vain regrets, she burst into tears 
 and exclaimed : ' Oh, Catherine, if he would 
 but come and speak to me, or write, or
 
 230 AMONG ALIENS. 
 
 make one sign ! I know all is over between 
 us. I am resigned to that ; I would never 
 complain of it. But this blank silence is 
 too dreadful. I imagine to myself a 
 thousand painful things. What may he be 
 thinking of me ? Who knows what he has 
 been told ? There must be some mis- 
 apprehension in his mind, or he would 
 never leave me pining in neglect like this. 
 He couldn't be so cruel, Catherine !' 
 
 What could I say to her ? To tell her 
 that I believed Vittorio capable of almost 
 any degree of cruel selfishness would not 
 have mended matters ; on the other hand, to 
 defend him was impossible to me. I could 
 but assure her of my unchanging love, and 
 hold her poor, curly, child-like head against 
 my breast and let her cry. 
 
 Meanwhile I revolved in my own mind 
 what I would say in my letter to the 
 Princess. I was firmly determined that I
 
 l A WORM P THE BUD' 231 
 
 would write to her, and now the idea that 
 I miofht succeed in drawing forth some 
 explicit statement of Don Vittorio's inten- 
 tions sjmrred my purpose. Any certainty, 
 however painful, would now be better for 
 Lucy than her present state of agitating 
 suspense, for under it lurked — I could not 
 help seeing it — a wild hope, a vain trust, in 
 Vittorio's vows. To me, his cowardly 
 abandonment of her was as plain as if he 
 had spoken it to me in the clearest words. 
 But she could not see it as I saw. Could 
 she have done so, she would have merited 
 some part of the Princess's reproaches, 
 instead of being the most trustful and un- 
 suspecting of creatures. 
 
 END of vol. 1.
 
 •.*/fcl