Part 55 (1/2)
”Manuel!” she said eagerly--”Manuel, stay with me! Do not leave me!”
Manuel smiled in answer to her appealing eyes, and came nearer.
”Do not fear!” he said--”I will stay!”
She closed her eyes again restfully, and her breathing grew lighter and easier. Just then one of the servants entered with the physician who was accustomed to attend the Sovrani household. His arrival roused Angela completely,--she became quite conscious, and evidently began to remember something of what had happened. The doctor raised her to see where she was injured, and quickly cutting away her blood-stained vesture, tenderly and carefully examined the wound.
”I cannot understand how it is that she is not dead!” he said at last--”It is a miracle! This is a stab inflicted with some sharply pointed instrument,--probably a dagger--and was no doubt intended to be mortal. As it is, it is dangerous--but there is a chance of life.” Then he addressed himself to Angela, who was looking at him with wide-open eyes and a most piteous expression. ”Do you know me, my child?”
”Oh, yes, doctor!” she murmured faintly.
”Do you suffer much pain?”
”No.”
”Then can you tell me how this happened? Who stabbed you?”
She shuddered and sighed.
”No one!--that I can remember!”
Her eyes closed--she moved her hands about restlessly as though seeking for something she had lost.
”Manuel!”
”I am here!” answered the boy gently.
”Stay with me! I am so tired!”
Again a convulsive trembling shook her fragile body from head to foot, and again she sighed as though her heart were breaking,--then she lay pa.s.sively still, though one or two tears crept down her cheeks as they carried her tenderly up to her own room and laid her down on her simple little white bed, softly curtained, and guarded by a statue of the Virgin bending over it. There, when her cruel wound was dressed and bandaged, and the physician had given her a composing draught, she fell into a deep, refres.h.i.+ng slumber, and only Manuel stayed beside her as she slept.
Meanwhile, down in the studio, Prince Sovrani and the Cardinal stayed together, talking softly, and gazing in fascinated wonder, bewilderment, admiration and awe at Angela's work unveiled. All the lamps in the room were now lit, and the great picture--a sublime Dream resolved into sublime Reality--shone out as much as the artificial light would permit,--a jewel of art that seemed to contain within itself all the colour and radiance of a heaven unknown, unseen yet surely near at hand. The figure and face of the approaching Saviour, instinct with life, expressed almost in positive speech the words, ”Then shall ye see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory”!--and if Cardinal Bonpre had given way to the innermost emotions of his soul, he could have knelt before the exalted purity of such a conception of the Christ,--a G.o.d-like ideal, brought into realization by the exalted imagination, the holy thoughts, and the faithful patient work of a mere woman!
”This--” he said, in hushed accents--”This must be the cause of the dastardly attempt made to murder the child! Some one who knew her secret,--some one who was aware of the wonderful power and magnificence of her work,--perhaps the very man who made the frame for it,--who can tell?”
Prince Pietro meditated deeply, a frown puckering his brows,--his countenance was still pale and drawn with the stress of the mingled agony and relief he had just pa.s.sed through, and the anxiety he felt concerning Angela's immediate critical condition.
”I cannot hold the position yet!--” he said, at last--”That is to say, I am too numb and stricken with fear to realize what has happened! See you! That picture is marvellous!--a wonder of the world!--it will crown my girl with all the laurels of a lasting fame,--but what matter is it to me,--this shouting of the public,--if she dies? Will it console me for her loss, to call her a Raffaelle?”
”Nay, but we must not give up hope!”--said the Cardinal soothingly--”Please G.o.d, you will not lose her! Be glad that she is not dead,--and remember that it is almost by a miracle that she lives!”
”That is true--that is true!” murmured old Sovrani, ruffling his white hair with one hand, while he still stared abstractedly at his daughter's picture--”You are very patient with me, brother!--you have all the kindness as well as all the faithfulness of your sister,--the sweetest woman the sun was ever privileged to s.h.i.+ne on! Well, well!
What did you say to me? That this picture must have been the cause of the attempted murder? Maybe,--but the poor hard-working fellow who made the frame for it, could not have done such a deed,--he has been a pensioner of Angela's for many a long day, and she has given him employment when he could not obtain it from others. Besides, he never saw the picture. Angela gave him her measurements, and when the frame was finished he brought it to her here. But he had nothing whatever to do with setting the canvas in it,--that I know, for Angela herself told me. No, no!--let us not blame the innocent; rather let us try to find the guilty.”
At that moment a servant entered with a large and exquisitely arranged basket of lilies-of-the-valley, and a letter.
”For Donna Sovrani,” he said, as he handed both to his master.
The Prince took the basket of lilies, and moved by a sudden fancy, set it gently in front of Angela's great work. Glancing at the superscription of the letter, he said,--