Part 57 (1/2)
”No--no, not loss!--she is not dead--” began Sovrani stammeringly,--”I should have told your Majesty--she is grievously wounded--but not dead . . .”
At that moment the carriage stopped. The door of the Sovrani palace was open, and in the centre of a group of people that had gathered within, among whom were Aubrey Leigh, Sylvie Hermenstein, and the Princesse D'Agramont, stood Cardinal Bonpre and Manuel. Manuel was a little in advance of the rest, and as the King and Prince Sovrani alighted, he came fully forward, his eyes s.h.i.+ning, and a smile upon his lips.
”She will recover!” he said, ”She is sleeping peacefully,--and all is well!” His voice rang clear and sweet, and was heard by everyone on the outskirts of the crowd. The good news ran from mouth to mouth, till all the people caught it up and responded with one brief, subdued, but hearty cheer. Then, without bidding, they began to disperse, and the King, baring his head in the presence of Cardinal Bonpre, gave up his self-imposed charge of old Sovrani, who, faint and feeble, grasped Aubrey Leigh's quickly proffered arm, and leaned heavily upon it.
”He needs care,” said Humbert gently,--”The shock has moved him greatly!”
”Your Majesty is ever considerate of the sorrows of others,” said the venerable Felix with emotion, ”And G.o.d will bless you as He blesses all good men!”
The King bowed reverently to the benediction. Then he looked up with a slight smile.
”It is not wise of your Eminence to say so,--in Rome!” he observed,--”But I thank you, and am grateful!”
His keen eyes rested for a moment on Manuel,--and the fair aspect of the boy seemed to move him to a sense of wonder--but he did not speak.
With a light salute to all present he re-entered his carriage and was driven away--and Aubrey Leigh led Prince Sovrani into his own library where, when he was seated, they all waited upon him eagerly, the fair Sylvie chafing his cold hands, and the Princesse D'Agramont practically making him drink a gla.s.s of good wine. Gradually, warmth and colour and animation came back to his pale features,--his fears were soothed,--his heart relieved, and a smile crossed his lips as he met Sylvie's earnest, anxious eyes.
”What a pretty rosebud it is!” he said softly,--”Full of suns.h.i.+ne--and love!”
With returning strength he gathered up the forces of his native pride and independence and rose from his chair.
”I am well--quite well again now!” he said, ”Where is the boy, Manuel?”
”Gone back to Angela,” replied the Cardinal, ”He said he would watch her until she wakes.”
”An angel watching an angel!” then said the Prince musingly, ”That is as it should be!” He paused a moment, ”The King was very kind. And you, Princesse--and you, bella Contessina!” and he courteously bent over Sylvie's little hand and kissed it,--”You are all much too good to an old man like me! I am strong again--I shall be ready to speak--when Angela bids. But I must wait. I must wait!” He ruffled his white hair with one hand and looked at them all very strangely. ”That was a great crowd outside--all waiting to hear news of my girl! If--if they knew who it was that stabbed her--”
”Do you know?” cried Aubrey quickly.
”Per Dio!” And Sovrani smiled, ”I thought Englishmen were phlegmatic, and here is one ablaze, and ready to burst like a bomb! No!--I did not say I knew!--but I say, if the crowd had known, they would have lynched him! Yes, they would have torn him to pieces!
. . . and he would have deserved it! He will deserve it!--If he is ever found! Come--we will all sup here together this evening--sorrow strengthens the bonds of friends.h.i.+p . . . and I will tell you . . .”
He paused, and again the strange far-off look came into his eyes.
”I will tell you--” he went on slowly--”how I found my Angela lying dead, as I thought--dead at the feet of Christ!”
x.x.xI.
Meanwhile Florian Varillo had not gone to Naples. He had been turned back by a spectre evoked from his own conscience--coward fear. He was on his way to the station when he suddenly discovered that he had lost the sheath of his dagger. A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead as this fact flashed upon him. What had he done with it? Surely he had drawn the weapon out and left the sheath in his breast pocket as usual--but no!--search as he would, he could not find it. It must have dropped on the floor of Angela's studio! If that were so, he would be traced!--most surely traced--as the sheath was of curious and uncommon workmans.h.i.+p, and many of his friends had seen it. He had told everybody he was going to Naples, and of course he would be followed there. Then, he would not go! But he went to the station as if bent on the journey, and took a ticket for Naples. Then, setting down his portmanteau on a bench, he surrept.i.tiously tore off the label on which his name was written, and tearing it up in small bits scattered the fragments on the line. After this, he walked away leisurely, leaving the portmanteau behind him for there was nothing in it by which he could be traced, and sauntered slowly out of the station into the streets of Rome once more.
Hailing the first fiacre he saw, he told the driver to take him to Frascati. The man was either lazy or sulky.
”Why not take the train, Signor?”
”Because I wish to drive!” replied Varillo. ”What is your fare?”
”Twenty-five francs for half the way!” said the man, showing his white teeth in a mischievous grin.
”Good!”
The driver was surprised, as he had not thought his terms would be accepted. But he made no further demur, and Varillo jumped into the vehicle, his teeth chattering with an inward terror he could not control. ”Drive quickly!” he said.