Part 34 (1/2)

Reanda laughed, with an effort.

”It is altogether too absurd!” he said. ”I do not know what to say. I can only laugh.”

”Because you know it is true,” answered Gloria. ”It is for your sake that she has done it all, that she makes such a pretence of being friendly to me, that she pushes us into society, and brings her friends here to see me. They never come unless she brings them,” she added bitterly. ”There is no fear of that. The d.u.c.h.ess of Astrardente would not have her black horses seen standing in the Macel de' Corvi, unless Donna Francesca made her do it and came with her.”

”Why not?” asked Reanda, simply, for his Italian mind did not grasp the false shame which Gloria felt in living in a rather humble neighbourhood.

”She would not have people know that she had friends living in such a place,” Gloria answered.

Unwittingly she had dealt Reanda a deadly thrust.

He had fallen in love with her and had married her on the understanding with himself, so to say, that she was in all respects as much a great lady as Donna Francesca herself, and he had taken it for granted that she must be above such pettiness. The lodging was extremely good and had the advantage of being very conveniently situated for his work. It had never struck him that because it was in an unfas.h.i.+onable position, Gloria could imagine that the people she knew would hesitate to come and see her. Since their marriage she had done and said many little things which had shaken his belief in the thoroughness of her refinement. She had suddenly destroyed that belief now, by a single foolish speech. It would be hard to build it up again.

Like many men of genius he could not forgive his own mistake, and Gloria was involved in this one. Moreover, as an Italian, he fancied that she secretly suspected him of meanness, and when Italians are not mean, there is nothing which they resent more than being thought to be so. He had plenty of money, for he had always lived very simply before his marriage, and Dalrymple gave Gloria an allowance.

His tone changed, when he answered her, but she was far from suspecting what she had done.

”We will get another apartment at once,” he said quietly.

”No,” she answered at once, protesting, ”you must not do anything of the kind! What an idea! To change our home merely because it is not on the Corso or the Piazza di Venezia!”

”You would prefer the Corso?” inquired Angelo. ”That is natural. It is more gay.”

The reflexion that the view of the deserted Forum of Trajan was dull suggested itself to him as a Roman, knowing the predilection of Roman women of the middle cla.s.s for looking out of the window.

”It is ridiculous!” cried Gloria. ”You must not think of it.

Besides--the expense--”

”The expense does not enter into the question, my dear,” he answered, having fully made up his mind. ”You shall not live in a place to which you think your friends may hesitate to come.”

”Friends! They are not my friends, and they never mean to be,” she replied more hotly. ”Why should I care whether they will take the trouble to come and see me or not? Let them stay away, if I am not good enough for them. Tell Donna Francesca not to bring them--not to come herself any more. I hate to feel that she is thrusting me down the throat of a society that does not want me! She only does it to put me under an obligation to her. I am sure she talks about me behind my back and says horrid things--”

”You are very unjust,” said Reanda, hurt by the vulgarity of the speech and deeply wounded in his own pride.

”You defend her! You see!” And the colour rose in Gloria's cheeks.

”She has done nothing that needs defence. She has acted always with the greatest kindness to me and to us. You have no right to suppose that she says unkind things of you when you are not present. I cannot imagine what has come over you to-day. It must be the weather. It is sirocco.”

Gloria turned away angrily, thinking that he was laughing at her, whereas the suggestion about the weather was a perfectly natural one in Rome, where the southeast wind has an undoubted effect upon the human temper.

But the seeds of much discussion were sown on that close spring afternoon. Reanda was singularly tenacious of small purposes, as he was of great ideas where his art was concerned, and his nature though gentle was unforgiving, not out of hardness, but because he was so sensitive that his illusions were easy to destroy.

He went out and forthwith began to search for an apartment of which his wife should have no cause to complain. In the course of a week he found what he wanted. It was a part of the second floor of one of the palaces on the Corso, not far from the Piazza di Venezia. It was partially furnished, and without speaking to Gloria he had it made comfortable within a few days. When it was ready, he gave her short warning that they were to move immediately.

Strange to say, Gloria was very much displeased, and did not conceal her annoyance. She really liked the small house in the Macel de' Corvi, and resented the way in which her husband had taken her remarks about the situation. To tell the truth, Reanda had deceived himself with the idea that she would be delighted at the change, and had spent money rather lavishly, in the hope of giving her a pleasant surprise. He was proportionately disappointed by her unexpected displeasure.

”What was the use of spending so much money?” she asked, with a discontented face. ”People will not come to see us because we live in a fine house.”

”I did not take the house with that intention, my dear,” said Reanda, gently, but wounded and repelled by the remark and the tone.

”Well then, we might have stayed where we were,” she answered. ”It was much cheaper, and there was more sun for the winter.”