My Friend Prospero

by Henry Harland

  VII

  The quiet-coloured end of evening smiled fainter, fainter. The aerialcity, its cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces, had crumbled intoruins, and stars twinkled among their shattered and darkened walls. Themoon burned icily above the eastern hills. The nightingales (or John wasno true prophet) sang better than they had ever sung before, while bats,hither, thither, flew in startling zig-zags, as if waltzing to themusic. And all the air was sweet with the breath of dew-wet roses.

  The clock struck eight.

  "There--you must go," said Maria Dolores.

  "Go? Where to?" asked John, feigning vagueness.

  "This is no subject for jest," said she, feigning severity.

  "I can't go yet--I can't leave you yet," said he. "Besides, it is aneducation in aesthetics to watch the moonlight on these marble columns,and the pale shadows of the vine-leaves."

  "Well, then," said she, "stay you here and pursue your education. I willgo in your place. For Marcella Cuciniera must be relieved." She rose,and moved towards the darkling front of the Castle.

  "Hang education! I'll go with you," said John, following.

  "I shall only stop a moment, to see how she is," said Maria Dolores."Then I must hurry home, to get my packing begun."

  "Your packing?" faltered John.

  "To-morrow morning Frau Brandt and I are leaving for Austria--forSchloss Mischenau, where my brother lives."

  "Good Lord!" said John. "Ah, well, I suppose it is what they would callthe proper course," he admitted with gloomy resignation. "But think howdreadfully you'll be missed--by Annunziata."

  "Annunziata is so much better, I can easily be spared," said MariaDolores; "and anyhow--'tis needs must. I think you will probably soonreceive a letter from my brother, asking you to visit him. Mischenau isa place worth seeing, in its northern style. And, in his northern style,my brother is a man worth meeting. I counsel you to go."

  "I shall certainly go," said John. "I shall linger here at Sant'Alessina like a soul in durance, counting the hours till my release. Ishall be particularly glad to meet your brother, as I have matters ofimportance to arrange with him."

  "Until then," said she, smiling, "I think we must do with those--mattersof importance"--her voice quavered on the word--"what is it that thePope sometimes does with Cardinals?"

  "Yes," moodily consented John, "I suppose we must. But oh me, what adreary, blank, stale, and unprofitable desolation this garden willbecome,--and at every turn the ghost of some past joy!"

  Annunziata looked up with eyes that seemed omniscient.

  "I was thinking about you," she greeted them.

  "About which of us?" asked John.

  "About both of you. I always now, since a long while, think of you bothtogether. I think Maria Dolores is the dark woman whom Prospero is tomarry."

  John laughed. Maria Dolores looked out of the window.

  "And I was thinking," Annunziata went on, "how strange it was that ifyou hadn't both at the same time just happened to come to Sant'Alessina, you might have lived and died and never have known eachother."

  "Perish that thought," laughed John. "But I have sometimes thought itmyself."

  "And then," Annunziata rounded out her tale, "I thought that perhaps youhad not just happened--that probably you had been led."

  "That is a thing I haven't a doubt of," John with energy affirmed.

  "You look as if you were very glad about something--both of you," saidAnnunziata, those omniscient eyes of hers studying their faces. "What isit that you are both so glad of?"

  "We are so glad to find you feeling so well," answered Maria Dolores.

  But Annunziata shook her head, as one who knew better. "No--that is notthe only thing. You are glad of something else besides."

  "There's no taking you in," said John. "But we are under bonds to treatthat Something Else as the Pope sometimes treats Princes of the Church."

  "He gives them red hats," said Annunziata.

  "I shall give this thing a crown of myrtle," said John.

  "You sometimes say things that sound as if they hadn't any sense,"Annunziata informed him, with patient indulgence, nodding at theceiling.

  Maria Dolores leaned over the bed, and kissed Annunziata's brow. "Goodnight, carina," she murmured.

  Annunziata put up her little white arms, and encircled Maria Dolores'neck. Then she kissed her four times--on the brow, on the chin, on theleft cheek, on the right. "That is a cross of kisses," she explained."It is the way my mother used to kiss me. It means may the four Angelsof Peace, Grace, Holiness, and Wisdom watch over your sleep."

  But early next morning, John being still on duty, Maria Dolores cameback,--booted and spurred for her journey, in tailor-made tweeds, with alittle felt toque and a veil: a costume of which Annunziata's eyes werequick to catch the suggestion.

  "Why are you dressed like that?" she asked, uneasily. "I never saw youdressed like that before. You look as if you were going away somewhere."

  "I have got to go away--I have got to go to my home, in Austria. I havecome to bid you good-bye," Maria Dolores answered.

  Annunziata's eyes were dark with pain. "Oh," she said, in a voice ofdeep dismay.

  "We shan't be separated long, though," Maria Dolores promised. "I haveasked your uncle to lend you to me. As soon as you are strong enough totravel, you are coming to Austria to pay me a long visit. Then I willcome back with you to Sant' Alessina. And then--well, wherever I go youwill always go with me. For of course I can never live happily againwithout you."

  "One moment, please," put in John. "Here is a small difficulty. I cannever live happily without her, either. I also have asked her uncle tolend her to me. And wherever _I_ go, she is always to go with me. Howare we to adjust our rival claims?"

  Annunziata's eyes lighted up.

  "Oh, that will be easy enough," she pointed out. "You will have to goeverywhere together."

  THE END