A Siren
Page 27
CHAPTER VI
At the Circolo
There was, at all events, one man at Ravenna who was entirely pleasedand satisfied with the famous prima donna in all respects: and this wasSignor Ercole Stadione.
The Carnival campaign of La Lalli had been thus far brilliantlysuccessful, and the Carnival was now about half over. She "drew," as thelittle impresario had prophesied she would, to his heart's content. Itwas many a year since there had been so successful a season at thetheatre. Each part she sang in was a more brilliant success than thelast; and the public enthusiasm was such as enthusiasm on such subjectsnever is save in Italy.
In every respect, too, her ways and behaviour had been unexceptional.Her attention was never distracted from her business by the visits ofyoung men behind the scenes--a torment which, during the reigns of otherDivas, had often driven the poor little impresario, who dared not getrid of such intruders as he would have liked to do, almost wild. Biancawould permit no visits of the kind. She had never behaved herself to anyof the young men in such sort as to cause any of those rivalries andjealousies which are sometimes apt to manifest themselves in hostilepartisanship, when the Diva is on the boards--another fruitful source oftrouble to much-tried impresarios.
She had walked circumspectly and prudently in all respects--a most moraland highly satisfactory Diva.
She was understood to receive no visitors at home--at least, none of acompromising kind. The Marchese Lamberto was often with her: of course,naturally! He was well known to be always a sort of second amateurmanager: neither the theatre nor little Ercole Stadione could go onwithout him. And then the Marchese Lamberto was--the Marchese Lamberto!If he had chosen to sit by the bedside of any prima donna in Italy nightafter night, it would only have been supposed that he was giving herpossets for the improvement of her voice.
Occasionally, also, she would receive the visits of the MarcheseLudovico; evidently by reason of the unavoidable intimacy of his unclein the house. And Ludovico reported to them all at the Circolo that shewas a most charming woman indeed--full of talent, merry as a young girl,companionable, and fond of society, but wholly devoted to her art, andquite inaccessible in the way of love-making. He assured the jeunessedoree of Ravenna that they lost nothing in any such point of view bytheir exclusion from her intimacy, for that all their enterprises inthat line would be quite thrown away.
The Conte Leandro Lombardoni, indeed, always carried about with him inhis breast-pocket, a carefully preserved little letter on pinknotepaper, which he gave the world to understand was part of acorrespondence carried on between him (reconciled as he was to the belsesso) and the Diva; and had more than once contrived to be seen hangingabout the door of her house at hours when honest Divas, as well asmortals, ought to be in bed and asleep. But nobody believed him, orimagined that anything save a bad cold was at all likely to result fromhis vigils beneath the cold stars. He showed, indeed, with manymysterious precautions against the remainder of the letter being seen,that the little pink sheet of notepaper did indeed bear the signature of"Bianca Lalli." But when one of the ingenuous youth picked his pocket ofit, it was found to be a very coldly courteous acknowledgment of a copyof verses, which the Diva promised to read as soon as her avocationswould permit her to do so!
"Any way," said the discomfited poet, "that is more than any of youothers have got. And it's not so small a matter, when you come to thinkof it!"
"Per Bacco, no! Leandro is in the right of it!" said the young ConteBeppo Farini; "a small matter to find somebody who promises even to readhis verses! I should think not, indeed! Where will you find another todo as much?"
"Riconciliato col bel sesso! I should think you were, indeed!" criedanother; "she absolutely thanks you for sending her your rhymes! Nobodyever did as much as that before, Leandro mio! No wonder you haunt thestreet before her door!"
"I don't haunt the street before her door. Envy, Jealousy, ye green-eyedand loathsome monsters, how miserably small and mean can ye make thehearts of men!" said Leandro, lifting up hands and eyes.
"Bravo, Leandro, bravo! get upon the table, man!" cried Farini.
"Get home to bed, rather. It is too bad, because no human being willread his poetry, he takes to spouting it!" said the other.
"Let us look what she says," cried Ludovico di Castelmare; putting outhis hand to take the little note. "Upon my word she writes a prettyhand. It is a very neatly expressed note."
"Oh, you can see that much, can you?" returned Leandro. "I should thinkit was too! Is there any one of you here can show such a note from anywoman, let her be who she may? She says she will read the poem I havebeen good enough to send her--good enough to send her, mark that!--assoon as she can find time to do so! What could she say more, I shouldlike to know? Of course she is occupied. It stands to reason. But shewill read my poem; and then you will see!"
"Ay, then we shall see our little Leandro duly appreciated at last!"said the Barone Manutoli. "As soon as the Diva has found time to readthe poem there will come another little pink note, adorably perfumed: hewill be summoned to her august presence, and installed as her poet inordinary, and who knows what else besides,--her Magnus Apollo? It is apity there are not eight other prime donne to make up the sacred number.Then we should see our Leandro in his true position and vocation. Giveme a sheet of paper, and I will show you a new presentation of Apolloand the Muses. They are all presenting him with pasticcerie and bonbons.He has one hand on the lyre, and the other on his stomach, for thehomage of the goddesses has made him somewhat sick; his eyes, youobserve, are cast heavenwards, partly by reason of poetic inspiration,and partly by reason of nausea!"
"Bravo! bravo, Manutoli!" cried a chorus of voices.
"Envy and jealousy, envy and jealousy, all envy and jealousy. It ispitiable to see what they can reduce men to," cried the poet, foaming atthe mouth.
"Never mind them, Leandro mio--never mind them. It is the universalpenalty of true merit, you know; the same thing all the world over,"said Ludovico.
"But, I say, Ludovico," rejoined Manutoli, "in the meantime, till ourLeandro's poem shall have been read and duly appreciated, you are theonly one who has been admitted to the privacy of La Lalli. What is yourreport to us Gentiles of the outer court? Is she really sounapproachable? And is she as adorable behind the scenes as beforethem?"
"Well, you ought to be able to answer that question yourself, Manutoli,"replied Ludovico; "you were with lo zio and me that day when we went outto meet her; I am sure you had a fair look at her then."
"A look? Yes; and I looked all I could look. I saw a charming face,younger and fresher looking than might have been expected from thelength of time she has been on the boards,--a very pretty figure, as faras her travelling-dress would show it one; and the loveliest foot andankle I ever saw in my life. I could swear to that again at any time.Don't you remember how she stood with her foot down on the step, whenshe was getting out of the carriage. I thought at the time that she knewwhat she was about very well."
"Of course she did. Do you think they don't always know very well, everyone of them, off the stage or on the stage?" said Farini.
"But I want to know what sort of body, she is?" returned Manutoli; "Idon't need to be told that she is a very lovely woman; but of what sortis she? Why does she keep us all at a distance? What is her game?"
"Upon my life I don't know," answered Ludovico, "unless it's a devouringpassion for Leandro. I protest I have no reason to think she cares abutton for anything but her own art. I never tried; but it's myimpression that if I had ever whispered a word in her ear I should havegot a flea in my own for my pains."
"You don't want to make us believe that you have been seeing herfrequently all this time,--passing hours with her a quattro occhi, andhave never made love to her, Ludovico?" said Farini.
"No; I don't want to make you believe don't care a straw whether youhave it or not; but it is the the fact, for all that," returnedLudovico.
"Ludovico has enough on his hands in quarter. What would the
y say aboutit in the Via Santa Eufemia if he were to bow down to new and strangegoddesses?" said Manutoli.
"That, if you please, Manutoli, we will not discuss either now or at anyother time," said Ludovico, with a look that showed he was in earnest."But, as for La Diva Bianca, I have no objection to tell all I know toanybody. My belief is that she is as correct and proper, and all thatsort of thing, as a Vestal."
"Che!"
"Che!"
"Che!"
A chorus of protestations of incredulity in every tone of the gamut metthe monstrous assertion.
"What, after all we heard of her doings at Milan--after all thehistories of her goddess-ship in every city of Italy?" said Manutoli.
"Well, what did we hear of her doings at Milan? The fact is, we knownothing about the matter; and as to her previous history--of course Idon't suppose that she is, and always has been, a Diana; but it may bethat she has come to the time when she has thought it well to turn overa new leaf. Such times do come to such women; but all I know is, that Ifirmly believe that since she has been here she has lived the life of anun," said Ludovico, in the simple tone of a man who is stating a truthwhich he has no interest in causing his hearers to credit or discredit.
"Per Bacco, it's queer!" said Farini, slapping his hand against histhigh. "I have heard," he continued in the tone of one speaking of somestrange and almost incredible monstrosity,--"I have heard of such womentaking a turn to devozione. It's not that with La Lalli, is it?"
"Che! Nothing of the sort; she is as full of frolic as a kitten--up toany fun. And she is a very clever woman, too, let me tell you--a gooddeal of education. If you will put making love to her out of your head,I never knew a woman who was pleasanter company," said Ludovico.
"And you really mean that you have never tried to make love to her inany way?" reiterated Manutoli.
"I do mean it, upon my soul; but I don't care a rap whether you believeit or not," rejoined Ludovico.
"And you are with her very frequently?" persisted Manutoli.
"Yes, I have seen a good deal of her altogether. I like her; and I fancyshe likes me to go there; she seems to wish me to come. Perhaps it is anovelty to her to have a man about her who doesn't try to make love toher."
"The Marchese Lamberto sees her a good deal?"
"Yes; naturally. If it had not been for that I should probably neverhave made acquaintance with her at all. Lo zio is continually there. Heought to have been an impresario. In fact, he is the real impresario.Little Ercole only does what my uncle tells him. I don't believe sheever sings a note on the stage that he has not heard and approvedbeforehand."
"Suppose he is the dark horse; suppose she is his mistress all thistime; and he takes care to keep her all to himself," said Manutoli.
"What, lo zio. Bah! I should have thought that you knew him better thanthat, Manutoli. To him a woman is a voice, and nothing else. If the samesounds could be got out of a flute or a fiddle he would like it muchbetter, and think it far more convenient. I don't think my uncleLamberto ever knew whether a woman was pretty or plain. I wish to heavenhe would get caught for once in his life; it would suit my book verywell. He would have less leisure to think of other things."
The fact was that the Marchese had, in truth, had less leisure to thinkof those other things from which Ludovico desired that his attentionshould be drawn away. His visits to the Via Santa Eufemia had been morefrequent than ever; his visits to the Marchesa Anna Lanfredi and herniece rarer than ever. And he had received neither lectures norremonstrances for a long time past. In truth, the Marchese had his mindtoo full of other matters to think much of his nephew's affairs ordoings. And, besides that, there was a quite new and hitherto unknownfeeling in the heart of the Marchese Lamberto which made him shrink fromany such encounter with his nephew, as remonstrances respecting hisconduct with regard to Paolina would have occasioned;--a feeling whichmade it seem to him that he was the watched instead of the watcher; thatsuggested to him the fear that the first word he might utter upon thesubject would be met by references to doings of his own.
An utterly unfounded fear. But so it is that conscience doth makecowards of us all.