Part 34 (2/2)
”Yes, you love him dearly,” continued the priest; ”but would all your love compensate him for everything else that he must lose? It might, at first; but there would come a time when the world would a.s.sert its influence over him again; when he would feel a want which you could not supply--a weariness which you could not solace. Think of his life then, and of yours. Think of the first day when the first secret doubt whether he had done rightly in marrying you would steal into his mind. We are not masters of all our impulses. The lightest spirits have their moments of irresistible depression; the bravest hearts are not always superior to doubt. My child, my child, the world is strong, the pride of rank is rooted deep, and the human will is frail at best! Be warned! For your own sake and for Fabio's, be warned in time.”
Nanina stretched out her hands toward the priest in despair.
”Oh, Father Rocco! Father Rocco!” she cried, ”why did you not tell me this before?”
”Because, my child, I only knew of the necessity for telling you to-day.
But it is not too late; it is never too late to do a good action. You love Fabio, Nanina? Will you prove that love by making a great sacrifice for his good?”
”I would die for his good!”
”Will you n.o.bly cure him of a pa.s.sion which will be his ruin, if not yours, by leaving Pisa to-morrow?”
”Leave Pisa!” exclaimed Nanina. Her face grew deadly pale; she rose and moved back a step or two from the priest.
”Listen to me,” pursued Father Rocco; ”I have heard you complain that you could not get regular employment at needle-work. You shall have that employment, if you will go with me--you and your little sister too, of course--to Florence to-morrow.”
”I promised Fabio to go to the studio,” began Nanina, affrightedly. ”I promised to go at ten o'clock. How can I--”
She stopped suddenly, as if her breath were failing her.
”I myself will take you and your sister to Florence,” said Father Rocco, without noticing the interruption. ”I will place you under the care of a lady who will be as kind as a mother to you both. I will answer for your getting such work to do as will enable you to keep yourself honestly and independently; and I will undertake, if you do not like your life at Florence, to bring you back to Pisa after a lapse of three months only.
Three months, Nanina. It is not a long exile.”
”Fabio! Fabio!” cried the girl, sinking again on the seat, and hiding her face.
”It is for his good,” said Father Rocco, calmly: ”for Fabio's good, remember.”
”What would he think of me if I went away? Oh, if I had but learned to write! If I could only write Fabio a letter!”
”Am I not to be depended on to explain to him all that he ought to know?”
”How can I go away from him! Oh! Father Rocco, how can you ask me to go away from him?”
”I will ask you to do nothing hastily. I will leave you till to-morrow morning to decide. At nine o'clock I shall be in the street; and I will not even so much as enter this house, unless I know beforehand that you have resolved to follow my advice. Give me a sign from your window. If I see you wave your white mantilla out of it, I shall know that you have taken the n.o.ble resolution to save Fabio and to save yourself. I will say no more, my child; for, unless I am grievously mistaken in you, I have already said enough.”
He went out, leaving her still weeping bitterly. Not far from the house, he met La Biondella and the dog on their way back. The little girl stopped to report to him the safe delivery of her dinner-mats; but he pa.s.sed on quickly with a nod and a smile. His interview with Nanina had left some influence behind it, which unfitted him just then for the occupation of talking to a child.
Nearly half an hour before nine o'clock on the following morning, Father Rocco set forth for the street in which Nanina lived. On his way thither he overtook a dog walking lazily a few paces ahead in the roadway; and saw, at the same time, an elegantly-dressed lady advancing toward him.
The dog stopped suspiciously as she approached, and growled and showed his teeth when she pa.s.sed him. The lady, on her side, uttered an exclamation of disgust, but did not seem to be either astonished or frightened by the animal's threatening att.i.tude. Father Rocco looked after her with some curiosity as she walked by him. She was a handsome woman, and he admired her courage. ”I know that growling brute well enough,” he said to himself, ”but who can the lady be?”
The dog was Scarammuccia, returning from one of his marauding expeditions The lady was Brigida, on her way to Luca Lomi's studio.
Some minutes before nine o'clock the priest took his post in the street, opposite Nanina's window. It was open; but neither she nor her little sister appeared at it. He looked up anxiously as the church-clocks struck the hour; but there was no sign for a minute or so after they were all silent. ”Is she hesitating still?” said Father Rocco to himself.
Just as the words pa.s.sed his lips, the white mantilla was waved out of the window.
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