A Roman Singer by F. Marion Crawford

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"How should you be able to guess my thoughts?" he asked at last.

"People who have lived much together often read each other's minds.
What were you thinking of?" Nino sighed, and hesitated a moment before
he answered.

"I was thinking," he said, "that a musician's destiny, even the
highest, is a poor return for a woman's love."

"You see: I was thinking of you, and wondering whether, after all, you
will always be a singer."

"That is singular," he answered slowly. "I was reflecting how utterly
small my success on the stage will look to me when I have married
Hedwig von Lira."

"There is a larger stage, Nino mio, than yours."

"I know it," said he, and fell back in his chair again, dreaming.

I fancy that at any other time we might have fallen into conversation
and speculated on the good old-fashioned simile which likens life to a
comedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. But the moment was ill-chosen, and
we were both silent, being much preoccupied with the immediate future.

A little before ten I made up my mind to start. I glanced once more
round the room to see if I had left anything. Nino was still sitting
in his chair, his head bent, and his eyes staring at the floor.

"Nino," I said, "I am going now. Here is another candle, which you
will need before long, for these tallow things are very short."
Indeed, the one that burned was already guttering low in the old brass
candlestick. Nino rose and shook himself.

"My dear friend," he said, taking me by both hands, "you know that I
am grateful to you. I thank you and thank you again with all my heart.
Yes, you ought to go now, for the time is approaching. We shall join
you, if all goes well, by one o'clock."

"But, Nino, if you do not come?"

"I will come, alone, or with her. If--if I should not be with you by
two in the morning, go on alone, and get out of the way. It will be
because I am caught by that old Prussian devil. Good-bye." He embraced
me affectionately, and I went out. A quarter of an hour later I was
out of the town, picking my way, with my little donkey, over the
desolate path that leads toward the black Serra. The clatter of the
beast's hoofs over the stones kept time with the beatings of my heart,
and I pressed my thin legs close to his thinner sides for company.

When Nino was left alone,--and all this I know from him,--he sat again
in the chair and meditated; and although the time of the greatest
event in his life was very near, he was so much absorbed that he was
startled when he looked at his watch and found that it was half-past
eleven. He had barely time to make his preparations. His man was
warned, but was waiting near the inn, not knowing where he was
required, as Nino himself had not been to ascertain the position of
the lower door, fearing lest he might be seen by Benoni. He now
hastily extinguished the light and let himself out of the house
without noise. He found his countryman ready with the mules, ordered
him to come with him, and returned to the house, instructing him to
follow and wait at a short distance from the door he would enter.
Muffled in his cloak, he stood in the street awaiting the messenger
from Hedwig.

The crazy old clock of the church tolled the hour, and a man wrapped
in a nondescript garment, between a cloak and an overcoat, stole along
the moonlit street to where Nino stood, in front of my lodging.

"Temistocle!" called Nino, in a low voice, as the fellow hesitated.

"Excellency"--answered the man, and then drew back. "You are not the
Signor Grandi!" he cried, in alarm.

"It is the same thing," replied Nino. "Let us go."

"But how is this?" objected Temistocle, seeing a new development. "It
was the Signor Grandi whom I was to conduct." Nino was silent, but
there was a crisp sound in the air as he took a banknote from his
pocket-book. "Diavolo!" muttered the servant, "perhaps it may be
right, after all." Nino gave him the note.

"That is my passport," said he.

"I have doubts," answered Temistocle, taking it, nevertheless, and
examining it by the moonlight. "It has no _visa_," he added, with a
cunning leer. Nino gave him another. Then Temistocle had no more
doubts.

"I will conduct your excellency," he said. They moved away, and
Temistocle was so deaf that he did not hear the mules and the tramp of
the man who led them not ten paces behind him.

Passing round the rock they found themselves in the shadow; a fact
which Nino noted with much satisfaction, for he feared lest someone
might be keeping late hours in the castle. The mere noise of the mules
would attract no attention in a mountain town where the country people
start for their distant work at all hours of the day and night. They
came to the door. Nino called softly to the man with the mules to wait
in the shadow, and Temistocle knocked at the door. The key ground in
the lock from within, but the hands that held it seemed weak. Nino's
heart beat fast.

"Temistocle!" cried Hedwig's trembling voice.

"What is the matter, your excellency?" asked the servant through the
keyhole, not forgetting his manners.

"Oh, I cannot turn the key! What _shall_ I do?"

Nino heard, and pushed the servant aside.

"Courage, my dear lady," he said, aloud, that she might know his
voice. Hedwig appeared to make a frantic effort, and a little sound of
pain escaped her as she hurt her hands.

"Oh, what _shall_ I do!" she cried, piteously. "I locked it last
night, and now I cannot turn the key!"

Nino pressed with all his weight against the door. Fortunately it was
strong, or he would have broken it in, and it would have fallen upon
her. But it opened outward, and was heavily bound with iron. Nino
groaned.

"Has your excellency a taper?" asked Temistocle suddenly, forcing his
head between Nino's body and the door, in order to be heard.

"Yes. I put it out."

"And matches?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"Then let your excellency light the taper, and drop some of the
burning wax on the end of the key. It will be like oil." There was a
silence. The key was withdrawn, and a light appeared through the hole
where it had been. Nino instantly fastened his eye to the aperture,
hoping to catch a glimpse of Hedwig. But he could not see anything
save two white hands trying to cover the key with wax. He withdrew his
eye quickly, as the hands pushed the key through again.

Again the lock groaned,--a little sob of effort, another trial, and
the bolts flew back to their sockets. The prudent Temistocle, who did
not wish to be a witness of what followed, pretended to exert gigantic
strength in pulling the door open, and Nino, seeing him, drew back a
moment to let him pass.

"Your excellency need only knock at the upper door," he said to
Hedwig, "and I will open. I will watch, lest anyone should enter from
above."

"You may watch till the rising of the dead," thought Nino, and Hedwig
stood aside on the narrow step, while Temistocle went up. One instant
more, and Nino was at her feet, kissing the hem of her dress, and
speechless with happiness, for his tears of joy flowed fast.

Tenderly Hedwig bent to him, and laid her two hands on his bare head,
pressing down the thick and curly hair with a trembling, passionate
motion.

"Signor Cardegna, you must not kneel there,--nay, sir, I know you love
me! Would I have come to you else? Give me your hand--now--do not kiss
it so hard--no--Oh, Nino, my own dear Nino--"

What should have followed in her gentle speech is lacking, for many
and most sweet reasons. I need not tell you that the taper was
extinguished, and they stood locked in each other's arms against the
open door, with only the reflection of the moon from the houses
opposite to illuminate their meeting.

There was and is to me something divinely perfect and godlike in these
two virgin hearts, each so new to their love, and each so true and
spotless of all other. I am old to say sweet things of loving, but I
cannot help it; for though I never was as they are, I have loved much
in my time. Like our own dear Leopardi, I loved not the woman, but the
angel which is the type of all women, and whom not finding I perished
miserably as to my heart. But in my breast there is still the temple
where the angel dwelt, and the shrine is very fragrant still with the
divine scent of the heavenly roses that were about her. I think, also,
that all those who love in this world must have such a holy place of
worship in their hearts. Sometimes the kingdom of the soul and the
palace of the body are all Love's, made beautiful and rich with rare
offerings of great constancy and faith; and all the countless
creations of transcendent genius, and all the vast aspirations of
far-reaching power, go up in reverent order to do homage at Love's
altar, before they come forth, like giants, to make the great world
tremble and reel in its giddy grooves.

And with another it is different. The world is not his; he is the
world's, and all his petty doings have its gaudy stencil blotched upon
them. Yet haply even he has a heart, and somewhere in its fruitless
fallows stands a poor ruin, that never was of much dignity at its
best,--poor and broken, and half choked with weeds and briers; but
even thus the weeds are fragrant herbs, and the briers are wild roses,
of few and misshapen petals, but sweet, nevertheless. For this ruin
was once a shrine too, that his mean hands and sterile soul did try
most ineffectually to build up as a shelter for all that was ever
worthy in him.

Now, therefore, I say, Love, and love truly and long,--even for ever;
and if you can do other things well, do them; but if not, at least
learn to do that, for it is a very gentle thing and sweet in the
learning. Some of you laugh at me, and say, Behold, this old-fashioned
driveller, who does not even know that love is no longer in the
fashion! By Saint Peter, Heaven will soon be out of the fashion too,
and Messer Satanas will rake in the just and the unjust alike, so that
he need no longer fast on Fridays, having a more savoury larder! And
no doubt some of you will say that hell is really so antiquated that
it should be put in the museum at the University of Rome, for a
curious old piece of theological furniture. Truth! it is a wonder it
is not worn out with digesting the tough morsels it gets, when people
like you are finally gotten rid of from this world! But it is made of
good material, and it will last, never fear! This is not the gospel of
peace, but it is the gospel of truth.

Loving hearts and gentle souls shall rule the world some day, for all
your pestiferous fashions; and old as I am,--I do not mean aged, but
well on in years,--I believe in love still, and I always will. It is
true that it was not given to me to love as Nino loves Hedwig, for
Nino is even now a stronger, sterner man than I. His is the nature
that can never do enough; his the hands that never tire for her;
his the art that would surpass, for her, the stubborn bounds of
possibility. He is never weary of striving to increase her joy of him.
His philosophy is but that. No quibbles of "being" and "not being," or
wretched speculations concerning the object of existence; he has found
the true unity of unities, and he holds it fast.

Meanwhile, you object that I am not proceeding with my task, and
telling you more facts, recounting more conversations, and painting
more descriptions. Believe me, this one fact, that to love well is to
be all man can be, is greater than all the things men have ever
learned and classified in dictionaries. It is, moreover, the only fact
that has consistently withstood the ravages of time and social
revolution; it is the wisdom that has opened, as if by magic, the
treasures of genius, of goodness, and of all greatness, for everyone
to see; it is the vital elixir that has made men of striplings, and
giants of cripples, and heroes of the poor in heart though great in
spirit. Nino is an example; for he was but a boy, yet he acted like a
man; a gifted artist in a great city, courted by the noblest, yet he
kept his faith.

But when I have taken breath I will tell you what he and Hedwig said
to each other at the gate, and whether at the last she went with him,
or stayed in dismal Fillettino for her father's sake.

CHAPTER XXI

"Let us sit upon the step and talk," said Hedwig, gently disengaging
herself from his arms.

"The hour is advancing, and it is damp here, my love. You will be
cold," said Nino, protesting against delay as best he could.

"No; and I must talk to you." She sat down, but Nino pulled off his
cloak and threw it round her. She motioned him to sit beside her, and
raised the edge of the heavy mantle with her hand. "I think it is big
enough," said she.

"I think so," returned Nino; and so the pair sat side by side and hand
in hand, wrapped in the same garment, deep in the shadow of the rocky
doorway. "You got my letter, dearest?" asked Nino, hoping to remind
her of his proposal.

"Yes, it reached me safely. Tell me, Nino, have you thought of me in
all this time?" she asked, in her turn; and there was the joy of the
answer already in the question.

"As the earth longs for the sun, my love, through all the dark night.
You have never been out of my thoughts. You know that I went away to
find you in Paris, and I went to London, too; and everywhere I sang to
you, hoping you might be somewhere in the great audiences. But you
never went to Paris at all. When I got Professor Grandi's letter
saying that he had discovered you, I had but one night more to sing,
and then I flew to you."

"And now you have found me," said Hedwig, looking lovingly up to him
through the shadow.

"Yes, dear one; and I have come but just in time. You are in great
trouble now, and I am here to save you from it all. Tell me, what is
it all about?"

"Ah, Nino dear, it is very terrible. My father declared I must marry
Baron Benoni, or end my days here, in this dismal castle." Nino ground
his teeth, and drew her even closer to him, so that her head rested on
his shoulder.

"Infamous wretch!" he muttered.

"Hush, Nino," said Hedwig gently; "he is my father."

"Oh, I mean Benoni, of course," exclaimed Nino quickly.

"Yes, dear, of course you do," Hedwig responded. "But my father has
changed his mind. He no longer wishes me to marry the Jew."

"Why is that, sweetheart?"

"Because Benoni was very rude to me to-day, and I told my father, who
said he should leave the house at once."

"I hope he will kill the hound!" cried Nino, with rising anger. "And I
am glad your father has still the decency to protect you from insult."

"My father is very unkind, Nino mio, but he is an officer and a
gentleman."

"Oh, I know what that means,--a gentleman! Fie on your gentleman! Do
you love me less, Hedwig, because I am of the people?"

For all answer Hedwig threw her arms round his neck, passionately.

"Tell me, love, would you think better of me if I were noble?"

"Ah, Nino, how most unkind! Oh, no: I love you, and for your sake I
love the people,--the strong, brave people, whose man you are."

"God bless you, dear, for that," he answered tenderly. "But say, will
your father take you back to Rome, now that he has sent away Benoni?"

"No, he will not. He swears that I shall stay here until I can forget
you." The fair head rested again on his shoulder.

"It appears to me that your most high and noble father has amazingly
done perjury in his oath," remarked Nino, resting his hand on her
hair, from which the thick black veil that had muffled it had slipped
back. "What do you think, love?"

"I do not know," replied Hedwig, in a low voice.

"Why, dear, you have only to close this door behind you, and you may
laugh at your prison and your jailer!"

"Oh, I could not, Nino; and besides, I am weak, and cannot walk very
far. And we should have to walk very far, you know."

"You, darling? Do you think I would not and could not bear you from
here to Rome in these arms?" As he spoke he lifted her bodily from the
step.

"Oh!" she cried, half frightened, half thrilled, "how strong you are,
Nino!"

"Not I; it is my love. But I have beasts close by, waiting even now;
good stout mules, that will think you are only a little silver
butterfly that has flitted down from the moon for them to carry."

"Have you done that, dear?" she asked, doubtfully, while her heart
leaped at the thought. "But my father has horses," she added, on a
sudden, in a very anxious voice.

"Never fear, my darling. No horse could scratch a foothold in the
place where our mules are as safe as in a meadow. Come, dear heart,
let us be going." But Hedwig hung her head, and did not stir. "What is
it, Hedwig?" he asked, bending down to her and softly stroking her
hair. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No,--oh no! Not of you, Nino,--never of you!" She pushed her face
close against him, very lovingly.

"What then, dear? Everything is ready for us. Why should we wait?"

"Is it quite right, Nino?"

"Ah, yes, love, it is right,--the rightest right that ever was! How
can such love as ours be wrong? Have I not to-day implored your father
to relent and let us marry? I met him in the road--"

"He told me, dear. It was brave of you. And he frightened me by making
me think he had killed you. Oh, I was so frightened, you do not know!"

"Cruel--" Nino checked the rising epithet. "He is your father, dear,
and I must not speak my mind. But since he will not let you go, what
will you do? Will you cease to love me, at his orders?"

"Oh, Nino, never, never, never!"

"But will you stay here, to die of solitude and slow torture?" He
pleaded passionately.

"I--I suppose so, Nino," she said, in a choking sob.

"Now, by Heaven, you shall not!" He clasped her in his arms, raising
her suddenly to her feet. Her head fell back upon his shoulder, and
he could see her turn pale to the very lips, for his sight was
softened to the gloom, and her eyes shone like stars of fire at him
from beneath the half-closed lids. But the faint glory of coming
happiness was already on her face, and he knew that the last fight was
fought for love's mastery.

"Shall we ever part again, love?" he whispered, close to her. She
shook her head, her starry eyes still fastened on his.

"Then come, my own dear one,--come," and he gently drew her with him.
He glanced, naturally enough, at the step where they had sat, and
something dark caught his eye just above it. Holding her hand in one
of his, as though fearful lest she should escape him, he stooped
quickly and snatched the thing from the stair with the other. It was
Hedwig's little bundle.

"What have you here?" he asked. "Oh, Hedwig, you said you would not
come?" he added, half laughing, as he discovered what it was.

"I was not sure that I should like you, Nino," she said, as he again
put his arm about her. Hedwig started violently. "What is that?" she
exclaimed, in a terrified whisper.

"What, love?"

"The noise! Oh, Nino, there is someone on the staircase, coming down.
Quick,--quick! Save me, for love's sake!"

But Nino had heard, too, the clumsy but rapid groping of heavy feet on
the stairs above, far up in the winding stone steps, but momentarily
coming nearer. Instantly he pushed Hedwig out to the street, tossing
the bundle on the ground, withdrew the heavy key, shut the door, and
double turned the lock from the outside, removing the key again at
once. Nino is a man who acts suddenly and infallibly in great
emergencies. He took Hedwig in his arms, and ran with her to where the
mules were standing, twenty yards away.

The stout countryman from Subiaco, who had spent some years in
breaking stones out of consideration for the Government, as a general
confession of the inaccuracy of his views regarding foreigners, was by
no means astonished when he saw Nino appear with a woman in his arms.
Together they seated her on one of the mules, and ran beside her, for
there was no time for Nino to mount. They had to pass the door, and
through all its oaken thickness they could hear the curses and
imprecations of someone inside, and the wood and iron shook with
repeated blows and kicks. The quick-witted muleteer saw the bundle
lying where Nino had tossed it, and he picked it up as he ran.

Both Nino and Hedwig recognised Benoni's voice, but neither spoke as
they hurried up the street into the bright moonlight, she riding and
Nino running as he led the other beast at a sharp trot. In five
minutes they were out of the little town, and Nino, looking back,
could see that the broad white way behind them was clear of all
pursuers. Then he himself mounted, and the countryman trotted by his
side.

Nino brought his mule close to Hedwig's. She was an accomplished
horsewoman, and had no difficulty in accommodating herself to the
rough country saddle. Their hands met, and the mules, long accustomed
to each other's company, moved so evenly that the gentle bond was not
broken. But although Hedwig's fingers twined lovingly with his, and
she often turned and looked at him from beneath her hanging veil, she
was silent for a long time. Nino respected her mood, half guessing
what she felt, and no sound was heard save an occasional grunt from
the countryman as he urged the beasts, and the regular clatter of the
hoofs on the stony road.

To tell the truth, Nino was overwhelmed with anxiety; for his quick
wits had told him that Benoni, infuriated by the check he had
received, would lose no time in remounting the stairs, saddling a
horse, and following them. If only they could reach the steeper part
of the ravine they could bid defiance to any horse that ever galloped,
for Benoni must inevitably come to grief if he attempted a pursuit
into the desolate Serra. He saw that Hedwig had not apprehended the
danger, when once the baron was stopped by the door, conceiving in
her heart the impression that he was a prisoner in his own trap.
Nevertheless, they urged the beasts onward hotly, if one may use the
word of the long, heavy trot of a mountain mule. The sturdy countryman
never paused or gasped for breath, keeping pace in a steady,
determined fashion.

But they need not have been disturbed, for Hedwig's guess was nearer
the truth than Nino's reasoning. They knew it later, when Temistocle
found them in Rome, and I may as well tell you how it happened. When
he reached the head of the staircase, he took the key from the one
side to the other, locked the door, as agreed, and sat down to wait
for Hedwig's rap. He indeed suspected that it would never come, for he
had only pretended not to see the mules; but the prospect of further
bribes made him anxious not to lose sight of his mistress, and
certainly not to disobey her, in case she really returned. The
staircase opened into the foot of the tower, a broad stone chamber,
with unglazed windows.

Temistocle sat himself down to wait on an old bench that had been put
there, and the light of the full moon made the place as bright as day.
Now the lock on the door was rusty, like the one below, and creaked
loudly every time it was turned. But Temistocle fancied it would not
be heard in the great building, and felt quite safe. Sitting there, he
nodded and fell asleep, tired with the watching.

Benoni had probably passed a fiery half hour with the count. But I
have no means of knowing what was said on either side; at all events,
he was in the castle still, and, what is more, he was awake. When
Hedwig opened the upper door and closed it behind her, the sound was
distinctly audible to his quick ears, and he probably listened and
speculated, and finally yielded to his curiosity.

However that may have been, he found Temistocle asleep in the tower
basement, saw the key in the lock, guessed whence the noise had come,
and turned it. The movement woke Temistocle, who started to his feet,
and recognised the tall figure of the baron just entering the door.
Too much confused for reflection, he called aloud, and the baron
disappeared down the stairs. Temistocle listened at the top, heard
distinctly the shutting and locking of the lower door, and a moment
afterwards Benoni's voice, swearing in every language at once, came
echoing up.

"They have escaped," said Temistocle to himself. "If I am not
mistaken, I had better do the same." With that he locked the upper
door, put the key in his pocket, and departed on tiptoe. Having his
hat and his overcoat with him, and his money in his pocket, he
determined to leave the baron shut up in the staircase. He softly left
the castle by the front gate, of which he knew the tricks, and he was
not heard of for several weeks afterwards. As for Benoni, he was
completely caught, and probably spent the remainder of the night in
trying to wake the inmates of the building. So you see that Nino need
not have been so much disturbed after all.

While these things were happening Nino and Hedwig got fairly away, and
no one but a mountaineer of the district could possibly have overtaken
them. Just as they reached the place where the valley suddenly narrows
to a gorge, the countryman spoke. It was the first word that had been
uttered by any of the party in an hour, so great had been their haste
and anxiety.

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