A Roman Singer by F. Marion Crawford

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"Oh, you need not use so much learning with me," said Nino. "I assure
you that I will be neither dilatory nor ambiguous. In fact, I will go
at once, without even dusting my boots, and I will say, Give me your
daughter, if you can; and if you cannot, I will still hope to marry
her. He will probably say 'No,' and then I will carry her off. It
appears to me that is simple enough."

"Take my advice, Nino. Carry her off first, and ask permission
afterwards. It is much better. The real master up there is Benoni, I
fancy, and not the count. Benoni is a gentleman who will give you much
trouble. If you go now to see Hedwig's father, Benoni will be present
at the interview." Nino was silent, and sat stretching his legs before
him, his head on his breast. "Benoni," I continued, "has made up his
mind to succeed. He has probably taken this fancy into his head out of
pure wickedness. Perhaps he is bored, and really wants a wife. But I
believe he is a man who delights in cruelty, and would as lief break
the contessina's heart by getting rid of you as by marrying her." I
saw that he was not listening.

"I have an idea," he said at last. "You are not very wise, Messer
Cornelio, and you counsel me to be prudent and to be rash in the same
breath."

"You make very pretty compliments, Sor Nino," I answered, tartly. He
put out his hand deprecatingly.

"You are as wise as any man can be who is not in love," he said,
looking at me with his great eyes. "But love is the best counsellor."

"What is your idea?" I asked, somewhat pacified.

"You say they ride together every day. Yes--very good. The contessina
will not ride to-day, partly because she will be worn out with fatigue
from last night's interview, and partly because she will make an
effort to discover whether I have arrived to-day or not. You can count
on that."

"I imagine so."

"Very well," he continued; "in that case, one or two things will
happen: either the count will go out alone, or they will all stay at
home."

"Why will Benoni not go out with the count?"

"Because Benoni will hope to see Hedwig alone if he stays at home, and
the count will be very glad to give him the opportunity."

"I think you are right, Nino. You are not so stupid as I thought."

"In war," continued the boy, "a general gains a great advantage by
separating his adversary's forces. If the count goes out alone, I will
present myself to him in the road, and tell him what I want."

"Now you are foolish again. You should, on the contrary, enter the
house when the count is away, and take the signorina with you then and
there. Before he could return you would be miles on the road to Rome."

"In the first place, I tell you once and for all, Sor Cornelio," he
said, slowly, "that such an action would be dishonourable, and I will
not do anything of the kind. Moreover, you forget that, if I followed
your advice, I should find Benoni at home,--the very man from whom you
think I have everything to fear. No; I must give the count one fair
chance." I was silent, for I saw he was determined, and yet I would
not let him think I was satisfied.

The idea of losing an advantage by giving an enemy any sort of warning
before the attack seemed to me novel in the extreme; but I comprehended
that Nino saw in his scheme a satisfaction to his conscience, and
smelled in it a musty odour of forgotten knight-errantry that he had
probably learned to love in his theatrical experiences. I had certainly
not expected that Nino Cardegna, the peasant child, would turn out to
be the pink of chivalry and the mirror of honour. But I could not help
admiring his courage, and wondering if it would not play him false at
the perilous moment. I did not half know him then, though he had been
with me for so many years. But I was very anxious to ascertain from
him what he meant to do, for I feared that his bold action would make
trouble, and I had visions of the count and Benoni together taking
sudden and summary vengeance on myself.

"Nino," I said, "I have made great sacrifices to help you in finding
these people,"--I would not tell him I had sold my vineyard to make
preparations for a longer journey, though he has since found it
out,--"but if you are going to do anything rash I will get on my
little ass and ride a few miles from the village until it is over."
Nino laughed aloud.

"My dear professor," he said, "do not be afraid. I will give you
plenty of time to get out of the way. Meanwhile, the contessina is
certain to send the confidential servant of whom you speak to give me
instructions. If I am not here, you ought to be, in order to receive
the message. Now listen to me."

I prepared to be attentive and to hear his scheme. I was by no means
expecting the plan he proposed.

"The count may take it into his head to ride at a different hour, if
he rides alone," he began. "I will therefore have my mule saddled now,
and will station my man--a countryman from Subiaco and good for any
devilry--in some place where he can watch the entrance to the house,
or the castle, or whatever you call this place. So soon as he sees the
count come out he will call me. As a man can ride in only one of two
directions in this valley, I shall have no trouble whatever in meeting
the old gentleman, even if I cannot overtake him with my mule."

"Have you any arms, Nino?"

"No. I do not want weapons to face an old man in broad daylight; and
he is too much of a soldier to attack me if I am defenceless. If the
servant comes after I am gone, you must remember every detail of what
he says, and you must also arrange a little matter with him. Here is
money, as much as will keep any Roman servant quiet. The man will be
rich before we have done with him. I will write a letter which he must
deliver; but he must also know what he has to do.

"At twelve o'clock to-night the contessina must positively be at the
door of the staircase by which you entered yesterday. _Positively_--do
you understand? She will then choose for herself between what she is
suffering now and flight with me. If she chooses to fly, my mules and
my countryman will be ready. The servant who admits me had better make
the best of his way to Rome, with the money he has got. There will be
difficulties in the way of getting the contessina to the staircase,
especially as the count will be in a towering passion with me, and
will not sleep much. But he will not have the smallest idea that I
shall act so suddenly, and he will fancy that when once his daughter
is safe within the walls for the night she will not think of escaping.
I do not believe he even knows of the existence of this staircase. At
all events, it appears, from your success in bribing the first man you
met, that the servants are devoted to her interests and their own and
not at all to those of her father."

"I cannot conceive, Nino," said I, "why you do not put this bold plan
into execution without seeing the count first, and making the whole
thing so dangerous. If he takes alarm in the night he will catch you
fast enough on his good horses before you are at Trevi."

"I am determined to act as I propose," said Nino, "because it is a
thousand times more honourable, and because I am certain that the
contessina would not have me act otherwise. She will also see for
herself that flight is best; for I am sure the count will make a scene
of some kind when he comes home from meeting me. If she knows she can
escape to-night she will not suffer from what he has to say; but she
will understand that without the prospect of freedom she would suffer
very much."

"Where did you learn to understand women, my boy?" I asked.

"I do not understand women in general," he answered, "but I
understand very well the only woman who exists for me personally. I
know that she is the soul of honour, and that at the same time she has
enough common sense to perceive the circumstances of the situation."

"But how will you make sure of not being overtaken?" I objected,
making a last feeble stand against his plan.

"That is simple enough. My countryman from Subiaco knows every inch of
these hills. He says that the pass above Fillettino is impracticable
for any animals save men, mules, and donkeys. A horse would roll down
at every turn. My mules are the best of their kind, and there are none
like them here. By sunrise I shall be over the Serra and well on the
way to Ceprano, or whatever place I may choose for joining the
railroad."

"And I? Will you leave me here to be murdered by that Prussian devil?"
I asked, in some alarm.

"Why, no, padre mio. If you like, you can start for Rome at sunset, or
as soon as I return from meeting the count; or you can get on your
donkey and go up the pass, where we shall overtake you. Nobody will
harm you, in your disguise, and your donkey is even more surefooted
than my mules. It will be a bright night, too, for the moon is full."

"Well, well, Nino," said I at last, "I suppose you will have your own
way, as you always do in the world. And if it must be so, I will go up
the pass alone, for I am not afraid at all. It would be against all
the proprieties that you should be riding through a wild country alone
at night with the young lady you intend to marry; and if I go with you
there will be nothing to be said, for I am a very proper person, and
hold a responsible position in Rome. But for charity's sake, do not
undertake anything of this kind again--"

"Again?" exclaimed Nino, in surprise. "Do you expect me to spend my
life in getting married,--not to say in eloping?"

"Well, I trust that you will have enough of it this time."

"I cannot conceive that when a man has once married the woman he loves
he should ever look at another," said Nino, gravely.

"You are a most blessed fellow," I exclaimed.

Nino found my writing materials, which consisted of a bad steel pen,
some coarse ruled paper, and a wretched little saucer of ink, and
began writing an epistle to the contessina. I watched him as he wrote,
and I smoked a little to pass the time. As I looked at him I came to
the conclusion that to-day, at least, he was handsome. His thick hair
curled about his head, and his white skin was as pale and clear as
milk. I thought that his complexion had grown less dark than it used
to be, perhaps from being so much in the theatre at night. That takes
the dark blood out of the cheeks. But any woman would have looked
twice at him. Besides, there was, as there is now, a certain
marvellous neatness and spotlessness about his dress; but for his
dusty boots you would not have guessed he had been travelling. Poor
Nino. When he had not a penny in the world but what he earned by
copying music, he used to spend it all with the washerwoman, so that
Mariuccia was often horrified, and I reproved him for the
extravagance.

At last he finished writing, and put his letter into the only envelope
there was left. He gave it to me, and said he would go out and order
his mules to be ready.

"I may be gone all day," he said, "and I may return in a few hours. I
cannot tell. In any case, wait for me, and give the letter and all
instructions to the man, if he comes." Then he thanked me once more
very affectionately, and having embraced me he went out.

I watched him from the window, and he looked up and waved his hand. I
remember it very distinctly--just how he looked. His face was paler
than ever, his lips were close set, though they smiled, and his eyes
were sad. He is an incomprehensible boy--he always was.

I was left alone, with plenty of time for meditation, and I assure you
my reflections were not pleasant. O love, love, what madness you drive
us into, by day and night! Surely it is better to be a sober professor
of philosophy than to be in love, ever so wildly, or sorrowfully, or
happily. I do not wonder that a parcel of idiots have tried to prove
that Dante loved philosophy and called it Beatrice. He would have been
a sober professor, if that were true, and a happier man. But I am sure
it is not true, for I was once in love myself.

CHAPTER XVII

It fell out as Nino had anticipated, and when he told me all the
details, some time afterwards, it struck me that he had shown an
uncommon degree of intelligence in predicting that the old count would
ride alone that day. He had, indeed, so made his arrangements that
even if the whole party had come out together nothing worse would have
occurred than a postponement of the interview he sought. But he was
destined to get what he wanted that very day, namely, an opportunity
of speaking with Von Lira alone.

It was twelve o'clock when he left me, and the mid-day bell was
ringing from the church, while the people bustled about getting their
food. Every old woman had a piece of corn cake, and the ragged
children got what they could, gathering the crumbs in their mothers'
aprons. A few rough fellows who were not away at work in the valley
munched the maize bread with a leek and a bit of salt fish, and some
of them had oil on it. Our mountain people eat scarcely anything else,
unless it be a little meat on holidays, or an egg when the hens are
laying. But they laugh and chatter over the coarse fare, and drink a
little wine when they can get it. Just now, however, was the season
for fasting, being the end of Holy Week, and the people made a virtue
of necessity, and kept their eggs and their wine for Easter.

When Nino went out he found his countryman, and explained to him what
he was to do. The man saddled one of the mules and put himself on the
watch, while Nino sat by the fire in the quaint old inn and ate some
bread. It was the end of March when these things happened, and a
little fire was grateful, though one could do very well without it. He
spread his hands to the flame of the sticks, as he sat on the wooden
settle by the old hearth, and he slowly gnawed his corn cake, as
though a week before he had not been a great man in Paris, dining
sumptuously with famous people. He was not thinking of that. He was
looking in the flame for a fair face that he saw continually before
him, day and night. He expected to wait a long time,--some hours,
perhaps.

Twenty minutes had not elapsed, however, before his man came
breathless through the door, calling to him to come at once; for the
solitary rider had gone out, as was expected, and at a pace that would
soon take him out of sight. Nino threw his corn bread to a hungry dog
that yelped as it hit him, and then fastened on it like a beast of
prey.

In the twinkling of an eye he and his man were out of the inn. As
they ran to the place where the mule was tied to an old ring in the
crumbling wall of a half-ruined house near to the ascent to the
castle, the man told Nino that the fine gentleman had ridden toward
Trevi, down the valley, Nino mounted, and hastened in the same
direction.

As he rode he reflected that it would be wiser to meet the count on
his return, and pass him after the interview, as though going away
from Fillettino. It would be a little harder for the mule; but such
an animal, used to bearing enormous burdens for twelve hours at a
stretch, could well carry Nino only a few miles of good road before
sunset, and yet be fresh again by midnight. One of those great sleek
mules, if good-tempered, will tire three horses, and never feel the
worse for it. He therefore let the beast go her own pace along the
road to Trevi, winding by the brink of the rushing torrent: sometimes
beneath great overhanging cliffs, sometimes through bits of cultivated
land, where the valley widens; and now and then passing under some
beech-trees, still naked and skeleton-like in the bright March air.

But Nino rode many miles, as he thought, without meeting the count,
dangling his feet out of the stirrups, and humming snatches of song to
himself to pass the time. He looked at his watch,--a beautiful gold
one, given him by a very great personage in Paris,--and it was
half-past two o'clock. Then, to avoid tiring his mule, he got off and
sat by a tree, at a place where he could see far along the road. But
three o'clock came, and a quarter past, and he began to fear that the
count had gone all the way to Trevi. Indeed, Trevi could not be very
far off, he thought. So he mounted again, and paced down the valley.
He says that in all that time he never thought once of what he should
say to the count when he met him, having determined in his mind once
and for all what was to be asked; to which the only answer must be
"yes" or "no."

At last, before he reached the turn in the valley, and just as the sun
was passing down behind the high mountains on the left, beyond the
stream, he saw the man he had come out to meet, not a hundred yards
away, riding toward him on his great horse, at a foot pace. It was the
count, and he seemed lost in thought, for his head was bent on his
breast, and the reins hung carelessly loose from his hand. He did not
raise his eyes until he was close to Nino, who took off his hat and
pulled up short.

The old count was evidently very much surprised, for he suddenly
straightened himself in his saddle, with a sort of jerk, and glared
savagely at Nino; his wooden features appearing to lose colour, and
his long moustache standing out and bristling. He also reined in his
horse, and the pair sat on their beasts, not five yards apart, eying
each other like a pair of duelists. Nino was the first to speak, for
he was prepared.

"Good day, Signor Conte," he said, as calmly as he could. "You have
not forgotten me, I am sure." Lira looked more and more amazed as he
observed the cool courtesy with which he was accosted. But his polite
manner did not desert him even then, for he raised his hat.

"Good-day," he said, briefly, and made his horse move on. He was too
proud to put the animal to a brisker pace than a walk, lest he should
seem to avoid an enemy. But Nino turned his mule at the same time.

"Pardon the liberty, sir," he said, "but I would take advantage of
this opportunity to have a few words with you."

"It is a liberty, as you say, sir," replied Lira, stiffly, and looking
straight before him. "But since you have met me, say what you have to
say quickly." He talked in the same curious constructions as formerly,
but I will spare you the grammatical vagaries.

"Some time has elapsed," continued Nino, "since our unfortunate
encounter. I have been in Paris, where I have had more than common
success in my profession. From being a very poor teacher of Italian to
the signorina, your daughter, I am become an exceedingly prosperous
artist. My character is blameless and free from all stain, in spite
of the sad business in which we were both concerned, and of which you
knew the truth from the dead lady's own lips."

"What then?" growled Lira, who had listened grimly, and was fast
losing his temper. "What then? Do you suppose, Signor Cardegna, that
I am still interested in your comings and goings?"

"The sequel to what I have told you, sir," answered Nino, bowing
again, and looking very grave, "is that I once more most respectfully
and honestly ask you to give me the hand of your daughter, the
Signorina Hedwig von Lira."

The hot blood flushed the old soldier's hard features to the roots of
his gray hair, and his voice trembled as he answered:

"Do you intend to insult me, sir? If so, this quiet road is a
favourable spot for settling the question. It shall never be said that
an officer in the service of his majesty the King and Emperor refused
to fight with anyone,--with his tailor, if need be." He reined his
horse from Nino's side, and eyed him fiercely.

"Signor Conte," answered Nino, calmly, "nothing could be further from
my thoughts than to insult you, or to treat you in any way with
disrespect. And I will not acknowledge that anything you can say can
convey an insult to myself." Lira smiled in a sardonic fashion. "But,"
added Nino, "if it would give you any pleasure to fight, and if you
have weapons, I shall be happy to oblige you. It is a quiet spot, as
you say, and it shall never be said that an Italian artist refused to
fight a German soldier."

"I have two pistols in my holsters," said Lira, with a smile. "The
roads are not safe, and I always carry them."

"Then, sir, be good enough to select one and to give me the other,
and we will at once proceed to business."

The count's manner changed. He looked grave.

"I have the pistols, Signor Cardegna, but I do not desire to use them.
Your readiness satisfies me that you are in earnest, and we will
therefore not fight for amusement. I need not defend myself from any
charge of unwillingness, I believe," he added, proudly.

"In that case, sir," said Nino, "and since we have convinced each
other that we are serious and desire to be courteous, let us converse
calmly."

"Have you anything more to say?" asked the count, once more allowing
his horse to pace along the dusty road, while Nino's mule walked by
his side.

"I have this to say, Signor Conte," answered Nino: "that I shall not
desist from desiring the honour of marrying your daughter, if you
refuse me a hundred times. I wish to put it to you whether with youth,
some talent,--I speak modestly,--and the prospect of a plentiful
income, I am not as well qualified to aspire to the alliance as Baron
Benoni, who has old age, much talent, an enormous fortune, and the
benefit of the Jewish faith into the bargain."

The count winced palpably at the mention of Benoni's religion. No
people are more insanely prejudiced against the Hebrew race than the
Germans. They indeed maintain that they have greater cause than
others, but it always appears to me that they are unreasonable about
it. Benoni chanced to be a Jew, but his peculiarities would have been
the same had he been a Christian or an American. There is only one
Ahasuerus Benoni in the world.

"There is no question of Baron Benoni here," said the count severely,
but hurriedly. "Your observations are beside the mark. The objections
to the alliance, as you call it, are that you are a man of the
people,--I do not desire to offend you,--a plebeian, in fact; you are
also a man of uncertain fortune, like all singers: and lastly, you are
an artist. I trust you will consider these points as a sufficient
reason for my declining the honour you propose."

"I will only say," returned Nino, "that I venture to consider your
reasons insufficient, though I do not question your decision. Baron
Benoni was ennobled for a loan made to a Government in difficulties;
he was, by his own account, a shoemaker by early occupation, and a
strolling musician--a great artist if you like--by the profession he
adopted."

"I never heard these facts," said Lira, "and I suspect that you have
been misinformed. But I do not wish to continue the discussion of the
subject."

Nino says that after the incident of the pistols the interview passed
without the slightest approach to ill-temper on either side. They both
felt that if they disagreed they were prepared to settle their
difficulties then and there, without any further ado.

"Then, sir, before we part, permit me to call your attention to a
matter which must be of importance to you," said Nino. "I refer to the
happiness of the Signorina di Lira. In spite of your refusal of my
offer, you will understand that the welfare of that lady must always
be to me of the greatest importance."

Lira bowed his head stiffly, and seemed inclined to speak, but changed
his mind, and held his tongue, to see what Nino would say.

"You will comprehend, I am sure," continued the latter, "that in the
course of those months, during which I was so far honoured as to be
of service to the contessina, I had opportunities of observing her
remarkably gifted intelligence. I am now credibly informed that she is
suffering from ill health. I have not seen her, nor made any attempt
to see her, as you might have supposed, but I have an acquaintance in
Fillettino who has seen her pass his door daily. Allow me to remark
that a mind of such rare qualities must grow sick if driven to feed
upon itself in solitude. I would respectfully suggest that some gayer
residence than Fillettino would be a sovereign remedy for her
illness."

"Your tone and manner," replied the count, "forbid my resenting your
interference. I have no reason to doubt your affection for my
daughter, but I must request you to abandon all idea of changing my
designs. If I choose to bring my daughter to a true sense of her
position by somewhat rigorous methods, it is because I am aware that
the frailty of reputation surpasses the frailty of woman. I will say
this to your credit, sir, that if she has not disgraced herself, it
has been in some measure because you wisely forbore from pressing your
suit while you were received as an instructor beneath my roof. I am
only doing my duty in trying to make her understand that her good name
has been seriously exposed, and that the best reparation she can make
lies in following my wishes, and accepting the honourable and
advantageous marriage I have provided for her. I trust that this
explanation, which I am happy to say has been conducted with the
strictest propriety, will be final, and that you will at once desist
from any further attempts toward persuading me to consent to a union
that I disapprove."

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