CHAPTER V
Bianca at Home
Quinto Lalli and Bianca were sitting together in the parlour of theirapartments in the Strada di Porta Sisi, that same Monday morning justafter the little pink note had been despatched to the Marchese. Biancawas having her breakfast--a small quantity of black coffee in adrinking-glass, brought, together with a roll of dry bread, from thecafe. Old Lalli was not partaking of her repast, having previouslyenjoyed a similar meal, with the addition of a modicum of some horriblealcoholic mixture, called "rhume," poured into the coffee at the cafe inthe next street.
"That will bring him fast enough," said the old man, alluding to thenote which had been just despatched. "The game is quite in your ownhands, as I told you from the beginning it would be. That postscript wasa capital thought."
The postscript in question, which, it may be remembered, had not addedto the pleasure the billet had given the Marchese, had been added at thesuggestion of old Lalli himself.
"I would rather not have written it," replied Bianca, peevishly. "Itlooked too much like putting the screw on--I don't like it."
"Be reasonable, bambina mia, whatever you are. How, in the name of allthe Saints, do you imagine that you are to become Marchesa di Castelmarewithout putting the screw on--and that pretty sharply too? The man is asthoroughly caught as ever man was caught by a woman; and I tell you,therefore, that the game is in your own hands. But you don't supposethat he is burningly eager to solicit the honour of your alliance, chediamine?"
"Don't, Quinto; don't go on in that way. I tell you I hate it all,"returned Bianca.
"Cars mia, you are in an irrational humour this morning. Do you like theold game better? It don't pay, bambina mia, as you have found out; and,above all, it won't last. But I am sure you have reason to be satisfiedwith your success this season in any way. I never heard you sing betterin my life than you did last night; and, to say the truth, these peopleseemed to appreciate it."
"I tell you, I hate it all--all--all!" said Bianca, as she swallowed thelast drop of her coffee, and threw herself on the sofa in an attitude oflanguor and ennui.
"You are unreasonable, Bianca, you are not like yourself this morning; Idon't know what is come to you. What in the world do you like, or whatdo you want?" said the old man, looking at her with a puzzled air.
"Did you see the Marchese Ludovico in a box on the right-hand side onthe second tier with that Venetian girl, the artist?"
"The Marchese Ludovico was in the left-hand stage-box with his uncle."
"Of course he was; but I mean between the acts. I saw him from the wingby the side of that girl with her face the colour of mahogany, and herhalf-alive look. I hate the look of her, and I know she hates me!"
Old Quinto looked at his pupil curiously for a minute before he repliedto her.
"What do you mean, Bianca mia?" he said, at last; "and what, in the nameof all the Saints, is the Venetian girl to you, or you to her? Did youever speak to her? Why should she hate you?"
"I tell you, she does. We women can always see those things withoutneeding to be told them; and she knows, you may be very sure, that Ihate her."
"But why? What is she to you?" reiterated the old man.
"You asked me, just now, what I wanted. I want, if you must know, what Ican never have--what the Venetian girl last night was getting."
"And what was she getting? I don't understand you, upon my soul!" saidQuinto, staring at her, and utterly puzzled.
"What was she getting? Love!--that was what she was getting! Ludovicoloves her," said Bianca, raising herself on her elbow, and speaking withfierce bitterness.
"Tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu!" whistled Quinto, between his pursed-up lips."But I thought, bambina mia, that you were going to love the MarcheseLamberto, and be a good wife to him, and all the rest of it, accordingto the rules and practices of the best-regulated domestic familycircles; and I--I was so rejoiced to hear it," said the old reprobate,casting up his eyes and hands.
"Don't, Quinto; don't talk in that manner, or you'll drive me beyondmyself. I can't bear it."
"But did you not say that you loved the Marchese Lamberto?" persistedQuinto, dropping his mocking tone, however.
"I said that I liked him better than any of the men I have known; that Iadmired him as a fine and noble gentleman; that I would be a good andtrue wife to him,--and should love him," she added, with a burst ofbitterness, "better than he ever will, or can, love me."
"Well, come now, bambina mia. If you think that the Marchese is notenough in love with you, you must have a strong appetite, indeed, and bevery hard to content. Why, if there ever was a man thoroughly caught,fascinated--"
"Bah! Love! Ludovico loves the Venetian," said Bianca, with anexpressive emphasis on the verb.
"Ludovico, again! I protest I don't understand you, Bianca. But there,when a man has come to my age he don't expect ever to understand awoman. You did not want Ludovico, as you call him, to love you, didyou?"
"No: but--"
And Bianca stopped short, and seemed to fall into a sort of reverie.
"But what? If you mean that you wanted to have the uncle for a husband,and the nephew for a lover, that is intelligible enough. The game wouldhave been a dangerous one. But there is no reason why you should not sayit plainly between friends."
"I tell you, Quinto, I won't hear you speak to me in that tone," saidBianca, turning on him fiercely, and with flashing eyes. "Did I ever doanything to attract him?" she added,--"did I try to make him love me? Doyou think that the Venetian would have stood in the way if I had chosento do so? I never did! I meant, if the Marchese would make me his wife,to be true and loyal to him; though he himself seems to think itimpossible that I should be so. You know that I have never attempted toattract Ludovico in any way."
"Very well then; let his Venetian have him in peace," said Quinto,shrugging his shoulders.
"Why, then, does that girl hate me as she does? What harm have I everdone her?" returned Bianca.
"Why should you think she does hate you?" expostulated Quinto.
"I have told you that I saw it. I saw it in her eyes when Ludovico washanding me the bouquet;--which he only did because his uncle told him todo it. She would have blasted me to death with her look at that momentif she could have done it;--I have a good mind--a very good mind--"
"Be guided by me this once for the last time, as you have so often beenbefore; bambina mia," said Quinto, who thought that he now understoodthe real state of the case; "make sure of your own game first. Make allsafe with the Marchese Lamberto. When you are the Marchesa di Castelmareit will be time to take any revenge on the Venetian you please."
"Ah--h--h--h!" sighed Bianca, shaking her head with an expression ofdisgust; "you understand nothing about it, Quinto; you can't--of courseyou can't. Gia," she continued, after a pause of thought; "yes, I couldtake from her, poor fool, what she has; but could I, Bianca Lalli, takeit and keep it for myself? Ah me, it is weary work! You might as well goand flaner, Quinto; for I must dress ready for the Marchese, in case hecomes this morning."
"He'll come sure enough," said Quinto; as he prepared to leave the room.
"It's quite time, then, that I made myself ready to receive him,"returned Bianca, getting up from the sofa.
"Amo il zeffiro, perche a lui suo nome confido," she sang, as she turnedlistlessly to go to her chamber; and despite what she had said--and saidwith perfect sincerity to her adopted father--it may be feared that thesuo did not refer in the singer's mind to the Marchese Lamberto.
Quinto Lalli was in the act of shutting the sitting-room door behindhim, when the outer door of the apartment opened and Ludovico appearedin the doorway. He was the very last man whom Quinto, with the ideas inhis head which the above conversation with Bianca had put into it, wouldhave wished to see there. And perhaps there was something in his mannerof meeting the visitor that enabled the Marchesino to perceive that hewas not just then welcome.
"A thousand pardons," he said, in an easy, careless manner, "for
comingat so indiscreetly early an hour; but I could not refrain from justsaying one word to the Signorina Bianca on her last night's triumph, andI shall have no opportunity of seeing her later in the day."
"Bianca," called out Quinto, re-opening the door he was closing, andputting his head back into the room, "here's the Marchese Ludovicowishes to speak to you." If the old man had not been a little bit out ofhumour with his adopted daughter he would probably have found someexcuse for getting rid of the inopportune visitor.
"Pray let the Signor Marchese come in," returned Bianca, turning backfrom the door of her bed-room, rather to the surprise of SignorQuinto;--and Ludovico passed on into the sitting-room as the old manwent out and shut the outer door behind him.
Bianca, as she had said, had been about to dress to receive the MarcheseLamberto; and Ludovico thus caught her (really surprised this time) inher morning toilette. But there was nothing in her dress to prevent herfrom being with propriety presentable, or, indeed, to prevent her fromlooking very charming in her dishabille. Nevertheless, she did notintend, as we have seen, to present herself without further adornment tothe Marchese Lamberto; and it was not without a certain feeling ofbitterness at her heart that she said to herself, "What does itsignify?" as she cast a glance at her looking-glass before stepping backinto the sitting-room to receive her visitor.
"Really, Signora, I don't know how to apologize sufficiently for thusbreaking in upon you," said Ludovico, coming forward to meet her; "but Icould not refrain from calling to say one word of congratulation. Canyou forgive me?"
"I hardly know whether I can," said Bianca, half pouting and halflaughing, and looking wholly beautiful; "to be seen when they are notfit to be seen is an offence which we others, women, find it difficultto forgive, you know."
"But that is an offence which, in the nature of things, cannot becommitted against the Signora Bianca Lalli," retorted Ludovico, with alow bow, half earnest and half in fun, and a look of admiration that wasentirely sincere. "But the fact is," he continued, "that I really wasimpatient to be the first to make you my compliments on last night'simmense success. To tell you that I never heard a part sung as you sangthat of Amina last night would, perhaps, appear to you to be sayinglittle. But I do assure you the whole city is saying that there neverwas anything like it. It was superb! Perfect! Perhaps the praise of allRavenna is not worth very much to one who has had that of all Italy.But, at all events, my uncle is a competent judge--and he is not an easyone. And I do assure you he was moved as I never saw him moved by musicbefore."
"He is very good--too kind to me. He was good enough to see me to mycarriage at the theatre last night; and he said some word that makes methink he purposes doing me the honour of coming here to give me theadvantage of his criticism on last night's performance," said Bianca,who was anxious to let her visitor understand the desirability ofavoiding being caught there by his uncle.
"Yes, I am sure he would not fail to bring his tribute of admirationthis morning," returned Ludovico, carelessly; "but he will not be hereyet awhile. He is an early man in general, lo zio; but he has not beenwell latterly. You must have seen yourself, Signorina, how changed he issince you have known him. I really begin to be uneasy about him. Youmust surely have observed how ill he is looking."
"I am so grieved to hear you say so. Of course any change must be farmore evident to those who have known him all his life. But I should havesaid that I had rarely or never seen so remarkably young-looking a manfor his years. The Marchese happened to tell me once that he is fifty ornot far from it. It seemed to me impossible to believe it," said Bianca,who understood perfectly well how and why it came to pass that theMarchese should latterly be a changed man.
"Three months ago he might have well passed for five-and-thirty; but,per Bacco, he looks his years now every day of them--and more, too, ilpovero zio."
"Nay, Signor Ludovico, I think your regard for your uncle makes youthink him worse than he is. I thought he was looking very well at thetheatre last night," replied Bianca, knowing nothing more to the purposeto say.
"At the theatre. Ah! perhaps. He was pleased and excited. I did notspecially remark him last night. But, the truth is, I am not easy abouthim."
"I feel very much persuaded, Signor Ludovico, that you are alarmingyourself unnecessarily. Your fears are excited by your affection foryour uncle. I doubt whether many nephews in your position, SignorMarchese, would feel as much anxiety about the health of an uncle whoseheirs they were; not that I mean, of course, Signor, to insinuate thatyou are dependent on your uncle," added Bianca, who felt considerablecuriosity to know how matters stood in the Castelmare family in thisrespect.
"Faith, though, I am dependent on him," returned Ludovico, with the mostcareless frankness. "I have not a bajocco in the world but what comes tome from him. But lo zio is more generous than uncles often are to theirnephews who are to be their heirs. And I am in no hurry to succeed tohim, I assure you."
"I am sure that would not be in your nature in any case, SignorLudovico," returned Bianca; "but there is some excuse for those being ina hurry whose future depends on the caprice of old people," she added,fishing for further information.
"But my future does depend upon his caprice--in one way, at all events.Suppose my uncle should take it into his head to marry, and have afamily. There is nothing to prevent him. Many an older man than he by agreat deal has done so. And if that were to happen, there is not abeggar in all Ravenna who is a poorer man than I should be. Only that lozio is about the most unlikely man to marry in all Italy, it is a thingthat might happen any day."
"Why should the Signor Marchese be so unlikely to marry? One would say,to look at him, that it was not such an unlikely thing. Suppose somedesigning woman were to make the attempt?"
"There does not exist the woman who could have the faintest shadow ofsuccess in such an enterprise, Signora. If you could tell how often thething has been tried! He is seasoned, lo zio is. Besides, he never was aman given much to falling in love at any time of his life. I don't thinkhe is much an admirer of the sex, to tell you the truth. No; there is nofear of that."
There was a silence of some minutes, and Bianca seemed to have falleninto a reverie; till, suddenly, raising her eyes, which had fallenbeneath their lashes, while she had been busy with her thoughts, shesaid, looking up archly into Ludovico's face:
"Your attention, at all events, was not so fully occupied by theperformance last night, Signor, but that you had plenty of thoughts andeyes at command for other matters."
"What do you mean, Signora? I am sure I was not only an attentive but adelighted listener," said he, while the tell-tale blood flushed hischeeks.
"Ah! I saw which way your glances and thoughts were wandering. Weartists see more things in the salle than you of the world before thefoot-lights think for. A very pretty little brunette, in No. 10 on theupper tier, was quite equally aware of the direction of the MarcheseLudovico's thoughts and looks."
"You might have seen not only my thoughts but me myself in the same box,Signora, if you could have continued your observations after the curtainwas down. The lady you saw there is one for whom I have the highestpossible regard," said Ludovico, with a very slight shade of hauteurquite foreign to his usual manner, in his tone.
It was very slightly marked, but not so slightly as to escape the noticeof Bianca, who perfectly well understood it and the meaning of it.
"I dare say she well deserves it; she looks as if she did," said theDiva, with a pensive air, and a dash of melancholy in her voice. "I haveoften wondered," she continued, after a moment's pause, "whether youothers, grand signori, ever ask yourselves, when you bestow such regardsas you speak of on a poor artist--I know who she is, merely an artistlike myself--what the result to the woman so loved is likely to be?"
"Signora!" cried Ludovico, provoked, exactly as Bianca had intended heshould be, into saying what he would not otherwise have allowed toescape him, "permit me to assure you that, however pertinent suchspeculations may be in other
cases, which have doubtless fallen underyour observation, they are altogether the reverse of pertinent in thepresent instance. The lady in question is, as you say, a poor artist;not, perhaps, as you were also kind enough to say, one quite of the samekind as yourself, neither so successful nor so celebrated"--he hastenedto add as he saw a sudden paleness come over the face of the singer, andan expression sudden and rapidly repressed and effaced, of such aconcentration of wrath and hatred in her eyes, that momentary as it was,pulled him up short with something very much akin to a feelingresembling fear--"an artist neither so successful nor so celebrated asthe Signora Lalli, but, nevertheless, a lady whom it is the dearest wishof my heart to call my wife."
"She is indeed, then, a most fortunate and happy woman," said Bianca,who had perfectly recovered herself, with grave gentleness; "and I amsure that neither I nor any sister artist have any right to envy her herhappiness. Would it seem presumption in a poor comedian to express herearnest wish that you, too, Signor Ludovico, may find your happiness insuch a marriage?"
"Nay, don't speak in that tone!" said Ludovico, putting out his hand andtaking hers, which she readily gave him. "I accept your good wishes,Signora, most thankfully. I do hope and think that I--that we shall findhappiness in our mutual choice. But, pray observe, Signora, that ourtalk has led me into confiding a secret to you, that I have, as yet,told to no living soul, and that it is important to me it should be keptsecret yet awhile longer. I know I may trust you; may I not?"
"Depend on it, Signor Marchese, your secret shall be quite safe with me.But are you sure it is a secret? And then, do you know," continued theDiva, resuming her air of pensive thought, "when I hear a man in yourposition speaking with such noble truthfulness, the converse of thethought that I angered you--very innocently, believe me--by expressingjust now, comes into my head. And I ask myself, if women in such aposition as the lady we speak of, are apt to take themselves to taskwith sufficient strictness, as to what they are giving in return for allthat is offered to them."
"I don't quite understand your meaning, Signora," said Ludovico, whoreally did not perceive the drift of his companion's words.
"I mean that a woman, so circumstanced, ought to be very sure that sheis giving her heart to the man who asks for it, and not to his position,not to the advantages, to the wealth he offers her. She ought to feelcertain that, if all this--the advantages--the wealth were to vanish andfly away, her love would remain the same. Suppose now--it is out of thequestion, you tell me, but the case may be imagined all thesame--suppose your uncle, the Marchese, were to marry, would theVenetian lady's love suffer no tittle of falling off?"
The red blood rushed to Ludovico's cheeks and brow, and then came anangry gleam into his eyes. It was not that he resented the liberty whichhis companion took in thus speaking to him. It was not, either, that hefelt indignant at the doubt cast, even hypothetically, on the purity ofhis Paolina's love. It was rather the unreasoning animal anger againstthe person who had given him pain. It was a stab to his heart, this germof a doubt thus placed there for the first time. He was conscious of thepang, and resented it. In the next minute the hot flush passed from hisface, and he became very pale.
Bianca saw, and understood it all, as perfectly as if she could haveseen into his heart and brain.
"The doubt, you put before me, is so horrible an one that I could almostwish it might be put to the test you speak of. But I have no such doubt.However much your questioning may be justified by other examples, it isnot justified in the case of Paolina. I know her; I know her heart, andthe perfect truthfulness that wells up from the depths of her honesteyes."
No amount of ready histrionism was sufficient to prevent a very meaning,though momentary, sneer from passing over the beautiful face of thesinger as Ludovico spoke thus. But he was too much excited by his ownthoughts and words to perceive it.
"I trust that you may be right, Signor Marchese. I have no doubt thatyou are right. Believe me that I have ventured to speak as I havespoken, solely from interest in the welfare of one who has been souniformly good and kind to me as you have. Will you believe me, SignorLudovico, that I would do a good deal and bear a good deal to be able toconduce to your happiness in any way?"
She put out her hand to him, as she spoke the last words, with her eyesdropped to the ground, and with a feeling of genuine shyness, that wasquite surprising and puzzling to herself.
"Dear Signora, I will and do believe it with all my heart; and, intruth, I am deeply grateful to you for your good will," said Ludovico,really touched by the evident and genuine sincerity of her words.
"And now, I must ask you to leave me. I must dress myself and lose notime about it. The Marchese will be here in a minute or two. And I couldnot, you know, venture to receive him in the unceremonious manner whichyou have been good enough to excuse."
She gave him a little sidelong look with half a laugh in her eyes, asshe said the latter words; and Ludovico, putting the tips of her fingersto his lips before relinquishing her hand, bowed, and left her withoutsaying anything further.
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