CHAPTER VI
From California to Sicily is a long way. It used to be considered farlonger than it is now but in these magical days of aerial and motortravelling, distance counts but little,--indeed as almost nothing tothe mind of any man or woman brought up in America and thereforeaccustomed to "hustle." Morgana Royal had "hustled" the whole business,staying in Paris a few days only,--in Rome but two nights; and now hereshe was, as if she had been spirited over sea and land by supernaturalpower, seated in a perfect paradise-garden of flowers and looking outon the blue Mediterranean with dreamy eyes in which the lightning flashwas nearly if not wholly subdued. About quarter of a mile distant, andseen through the waving tops of pines and branching oleander, stood thehouse to which the garden belonged,--a "restored" palace of ancientdays, built of rose-marble on the classic lines of Greek architecture.Its "restoration" was not quite finished; numbers of busy workmen wereemployed on the facade and surrounded loggia; and now and again sheturned to watch them with a touch of invisible impatience in hermovement. A slight smile sweetened her mouth as she presently perceivedone figure approaching her,--a lithe, dark, handsome man, who, when hedrew near enough, lifted his hat with a profoundly marked reverence,and, as she extended her hand, raised it to his lips.
"A thousand welcomes, Madama!" he said, speaking in English with ascarcely noticeable foreign accent--"Last night I heard you hadarrived, but could hardly believe the good fortune! You must havetravelled quickly?"
"Never quickly enough for my mind!" she answered--"The whole worldmoves too slowly for me!"
"You must carry that complaint to the buon Dio!" he said,gaily--"Perhaps He will condescend to spin this rolling planet a littlefaster! But in my mind, time flies far too rapidly! I have worked--weall have worked--to get this place finished for you, yet much remainsto be done--"
She interrupted him.
"The interior is quite perfect"--she said--"You have carried out myinstructions more thoroughly than I imagined could be possible. It isnow an abode for fairies to live in,--for poets to dream in--"
"For women to love in!" he said, with a sudden warmth in his dark eyes.
She looked at him, laughing.
"You poor Marchese!"--she said--"Still you think of love! I reallybelieve Italians keep all the sentiment of le moyen age in theirhearts,--other peoples are gradually letting it go. You are like achild believing in childish things! You imagine I could be happy with alover--or several lovers! To moon all day and embrace all night! Ohfie! What a waste of time! And in the end nothing is so fatiguing!" Shebroke off a spray of flowering laurel and hit him with it playfully onthe hand. "Don't moon or spoon, caro amico! What is it all about? Do Ileave you nothing on which to write poetry? I find you out in Sicily--adelightful poor nobleman with a family history going back to theCaesars!--handsome, clever, with beautiful ideas--and I choose andcommission you to restore and rebuild for me a fairy palace out of ahalf-ruined ancient one, because you have taste and skill, and I knowyou can do everything when money is no object--and you have done, andare doing it all perfectly. Why then spoil it by falling in love withme? Fie, fie!"
She laughed again and rising, gave him her hand.
"Hold that!" she said--"And while you hold it, tell me of my otherpalace--the one with wings!"
He clasped her small white fingers in his own sun-browned palm andwalked beside her bare-headed.
"Ah!" And he drew a deep breath--"That is a miracle! What we calledyour 'impossible' plan has been made possible! But who would havethought that a woman--"
"Stop there!" she interrupted--"Do not repeat the old gander-cackle ofbarbaric man, who, while owing his every comfort as well as thecontinuance of his race, to woman, denied her every intellectualinitiative! 'Who would have thought that a woman'--could do anythingbut bend low before a man with grovelling humility saying 'My lord,here am I, the waiting vessel of your lordship's pleasure!--possess meor I die!' We have changed that beggarly attitude!"
Her eyes flashed,--her voice rang out--the little fingers he held,stiffened resolutely in his clasp. He looked at her with a touch ofanxiety.
"Pardon me!--I did not mean--" he stammered.
In a second her mood changed, and she laughed.
"No!--Of course you 'did not mean' anything, Marchese! You arenaturally surprised that my 'idea' which was little more than an idea,has resolved itself into a scientific fact--but you would have beenjust as surprised if the conception had been that of a man instead of awoman. Only you would not have said so!"
She laughed again,--a laugh of real enjoyment,--then went on--
"Now tell me--what of my White Eagle?--what movement?--what speed?"
"Amazing!" and the Marchese lowered his voice to almost a whisper--"Ihardly dare speak of it!--it is like something supernatural! We havecarried out your instructions to the letter--the thing is LIVING, inall respects save life. I made the test with the fluid you gave me--Icharged the cells secretly--none of the mechanics saw what I did--andwhen she rose in air they were terrified--"
"Brave souls!" said Morgana, and now she withdrew her hand from hisgrasp--"So you went up alone?"
"I did. The steering was easy--she obeyed the helm,--it was as thoughshe were a light yacht in a sea,--wind and tide in her favour. But herspeed outran every air-ship I have ever known--as also the height towhich she ascends."
"We will take a trip in her to-morrow pour passer le temps"--saidMorgana, "You shall choose a place for us to go. Nothing can stopus--nothing on earth or in the air!--and nothing can destroy us. I canguarantee that!"
Giulio Rivardi gazed at her wonderingly,--his dark deep Southern eyesexpressed admiration with a questioning doubt commingled.
"You are very sure of yourself"--he said, gently. "Of course one cannotbut marvel that your brain should have grasped in so short a time whatmen all over the world are still trying to discover--"
"Men are slow animals!" she said, lightly. "They spend years in talkinginstead of in doing. Then again, when one of them really doessomething, all the rest are up in arms against him, and more years arewasted in trying to prove him right or wrong. I, as a mere woman, asknobody for an opinion--I risk my own existence--spend my own money--andhave nothing to do with governments. If I succeed I shall be soughtafter fast enough!--but I do not propose to either give or sell mydiscovery."
"Surely you will not keep it to yourself?"
"Why not? The world is too full of inventions as it is--and it is notthe least grateful to its inventors or explorers. It would make thefool of a film a three-fold millionaire--but it would leave a greatscientist or a noble thinker to starve. No, no! Let It swing on its ownround--I shall not enlighten it!"
She walked on, gathering a flower here and there, and he kept pacebeside her.
"The men who are working here"--he at last ventured to say--"are deeplyinterested. You can hardly expect them not to talk among each other andin the outside clubs and meeting-places of the wonderful mechanism onwhich they have been engaged. They have been at it now steadily forfifteen months."
"Do I not know it?" And she turned her head to him, smiling, "Have Inot paid their salaries regularly?--and yours? I do not care how theytalk or where,--they have built the White Eagle, but they cannot makeher fly!--not without ME! You were as brave as I thought you would bewhen you decided to fly alone, trusting to the means I gave you andwhich I alone can give!"
She broke off and was silent for a moment, then laying her hand lightlyon his arm, she added--
"I thank you for your confidence in me! As I have said, you werebrave!--you must have felt that you risked your life on achance!--nevertheless, for once, you allowed yourself to believe in awoman!"
"Not only for once but for always would I so believe!--in SUCH awoman--if she would permit me!" he answered in a low tone of intensepassion. She smiled.
"Ah! The old story! My dear Marchese, do not fret your intellectualperception uselessly! Think what we have in store for us!--such wondersas none have yet explored,--the mysteri
es of the high and the low--thelight and the dark--and in those far-off spaces strewn with stars, wemay even hear things that no mortal has yet heard--"
"And what is the use of it all?" he suddenly demanded.
She opened her deep blue eyes in amaze.
"The use of it?... You ask the use of it?--"
"Yes--the use of it--without love!" he answered, his voice shaken witha sudden emotion--"Madonna, forgive me!--Listen with patience for onemoment!--and think of the whole world mastered and possessed--butwithout anyone to love in it--without anyone to love YOU! Suppose youcould command the elements--suppose every force that science couldbestow were yours, and yet!--no love for you--no love in yourself foranyone--what would be the use of it all? Think, Madonna!"
She raised her delicate eyebrows in a little surprise,--a faint smilewas on her lips.
"Dear Marchese, I DO think! I HAVE thought!" she answered--"And I haveobserved! Love--such as I imagined it when I was quite a younggirl--does not exist. The passion called by that name is too petty andpersonal for me. Men have made love to me often--not as prettilyperhaps as you do!--but in America at least love means dollars! Yes,truly! Any man would love my dollars, and take me with them, justthrown in! You, perhaps--"
"I should love you if you were quite poor!" he interposed vehemently.
She laughed.
"Would you? Don't be angry if I doubt it! If I were 'quite poor' Icould not have given you your big commission here--this house would nothave been restored to its former beauty, and the White Eagle would bestill a bird of the brain and not of the air! No, you very charmingMarchese!--I should not have the same fascination for you without mydollars!--and I may tell you that the only man I ever felt disposed tolike,--just a little,--is a kind of rude brute who despises my dollarsand me!"
His brows knitted involuntarily.
"Then there IS some man you like?" he asked, stiffly.
"I'm not sure!" she answered, lightly--"I said I felt 'disposed' tolike him! But that's only in the spirit of contradiction, because hedetests ME! And it's a sort of duel between us of sheerintellectuality, because he is trying to discover--in the usual slow,laborious, calculating methods of man--the very thing I HAVEdiscovered! He's on the verge--But not across it!"
"And so--he may outstrip you?" And the Marchese's eyes glittered withsudden anger--"He may claim YOUR discovery as his own?"
Morgana smiled. She was ascending the steps of the loggia, and shepaused a moment in the full glare of the Sicilian sunshine, herwonderful gold hair shining in it with the hue of a daffodil.
"I think not!" she said--"Though of course it depends on the use hemakes of it. He--like all men--wishes to destroy; I, like all women,wish to create!"
One or two of the workmen who were busy polishing the rose-marblepilasters of the loggia, here saluted her--she returned theirsalutations with an enchanting smile.
"How delightful it all is!" she said--"I feel the real use of dollarsat last! This beautiful 'palazzo,' in one of the loveliest places inthe world--all the delicious flowers running down in garlands to thevery shore of the sea-and liberty to enjoy life as one wishes to enjoyit, without hindrance or argument--without even the hindrance andargument of--love!" She laughed, and gave a mirthful upward glance atthe Marchese's somewhat sullen countenance. "Come and have luncheonwith me! You are the major-domo for the present--you have engaged theservants and you know the run of the house--you must show me everythingand tell me everything! I have quite a nice chaperone--such a dear oldEnglish lady 'of title' as they say in the 'Morning Post'--so it's allquite right and proper--only she doesn't know a word of Italian andvery little French. But that's quite British you know!"
She passed, smiling, into the house, and he followed.
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