Part 39 (2/2)
”Do you want a love affair between Sylvie Hermenstein and that fellow Leigh?” he enquired, ”If so, it is probable that your desire will be gratified!”
Angela raised her delicate eyebrows in a little surprise.
”I have no wish at all in the matter,” she answered, ”except to see Sylvie quite happy.”
”How very romantic is the friends.h.i.+p between you two women!” said Varillo somewhat sarcastically, ”You wish to see Sylvie happy,--and the other day she told me she would form her judgment of me by YOUR happiness! Really, it is most admirable and touching!”
Angela began to feel somewhat puzzled. Petulance and temper were not in her character, and she was annoyed to see any touch of them in her lover.
”Are you cross, Florian?” she asked gently, ”Has something worried you to-day?”
”Oh, I am often worried!” he replied;--and had he spoken the exact truth he would have confessed that he was always seriously put out when he was not the centre of attraction and the cynosure of women's eyes--”But what does it matter! Do not think at all about me, cara mia!
Tell me of yourself. How goes the picture?”
”It is nearly finished now,” she replied, her beautiful violet eyes dilating and brightening with the fervour that inspired her whenever she thought of her work, ”I rise very early, and begin to paint with the first gleam of daylight. I think I shall have it ready sooner than I expected. The Queen has promised to come and see it here before it is exhibited to the public.”
”Margherita di Savoja is very amiable!” said Florian, with a tinge of envy he could not wholly conceal, ”She is always useful as a patron.”
A quick flush of pride rose to Angela's cheeks.
”I do not need any patronage, Florian,” she said simply yet with a little coldness, ”You know that I should resent it were it offered to me. If my work is not good in itself, no 'royal' approval can make it so. Queen Margherita visits me as a friend--not as a patron.”
”There now! I have vexed you!” And Florian took her hand and kissed it.
”Forgive me, sweetest!--Look at me--give me a smile!--Ah! That is kind!” and he conveyed an expression of warm tenderness into his eyes as Angela turned her charming face upon him, softened and radiant with the quick affection which always moved her at his voice and caress. ”I spoke foolishly! Of course my Angela could not be patronised--she is too independent and gifted. I am very glad the Queen is coming!”
”The Queen is coming?” echoed Gherardi, who just then advanced. ”Here?
To see Donna Sovrani's picture? Ah, that will be an excellent advertis.e.m.e.nt! But it would have been far better, my dear young lady, had you arranged with me, or with some other one of my confreres, to have the picture sent to the Vatican for the inspection of His Holiness. The Popes, as you know, have from time immemorial been the best patrons of art!”
”My picture would not please the Pope,” said Angela quietly, ”It would more probably win his denunciation than his patronage.”
Gherardi smiled. The idea of a woman--a mere woman imagining that anything which she could do was powerful enough to bring down Papal denunciation! The strange conceit of these feminine geniuses! He could almost have laughed aloud. But he merely looked her over blandly and forbearingly.
”I am sorry,” he said, ”very sorry you should consider such a thing as possible of your work. But no doubt you speak on impulse. Your distinguished uncle, the Cardinal Bonpre, would be sadly distressed if your picture should contain anything of a nature to bring you any condemnation from the Vatican,--and your father . . .”
”Leave me out of it, if you please!” interrupted Prince Pietro, ”I have nothing whatever to do with it! Angela works with a free hand; none of us have seen what she is doing.”
”Not even you, Signor Varillo?” enquired Gherardi affably.
”Oh, I?” laughed Florian carelessly, ”No indeed! I have not the least idea of the subject or the treatment!”
”A mystery then?” said Gherardi, still preserving his bland suavity of demeanour, ”But permit me, Donna Sovrani, to express the hope that when the veil is lifted a crown of laurels may be disclosed for you!”
Angela thanked him by a silent inclination of her head, and in a few minutes the stately Vatican spy had taken his leave. As he disappeared the Cardinal rose from his chair and moving somewhat feebly, prepared to return to his own apartments.
”Dearest uncle, will you not stay with us to-night? Or are you too tired?” asked Angela as she came to his side.
He raised her sweet face between his two wrinkled hands and looked at her long and earnestly. ”Dear child!” he said, ”Dear brave little child! For you must always be nothing more than a child to me,--tell me, are you sure you are moved by the right spirit in the painting of your picture?”
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