Part 3 (1/2)
”Such a special grace!” said the resident Anglo-American Catholics; ”he is quite sure to convert her!”
”Such a special grace!” exclaimed the resident Anglo-American Protestants; ”she is quite sure to lead him back!”
”Il faut toujours se mefier des saints,” remarked Marcantonio's uncle, concerning his nephew.
”Never trust red-haired women,” said the man who had stood at the door.
The engagement made a sensation in Rome, a consummation very easily attained, and very little to be desired. In places where the intercourse between young marriageable men and young marriageable women is so constrained as it is in modern Europe, a man's inclinations do not escape comment, and a very small seed of truth grows, beneath the magic incantations of society tea parties, to a very large bush of gossip.
Nevertheless these good people are always astonished when their prophecies are fulfilled, and the bush bears fruit instead of vanis.h.i.+ng into emptiness; which shows that there is some capacity left in them for distinguis.h.i.+ng truth and untruth. Marcantonio's marriage had long been a subject in every way to the taste of the chatterers, and though Madame de Charleroi had accused her brother of hastiness, for lack of a better reproach, it was nearly a year since his admiration for Miss Carnethy had been first noticed. During that time every particular of her parentage and fortune had been carefully sought after, especially by those who had the least interest in the matter; and the universal verdict had been that the Marchese Carantoni might, could, should, and probably would, marry Miss Leonora Carnethy. And now that the engagement was out, society grunted as a pig may when among the crab-oaks of Perigord he has discovered a particularly fat and unctuous truffle.
Probably the happiest person was Marcantonio himself. He was an honest, whole-souled man, and in his eyes Leonora was altogether the most beautiful, the most accomplished, and the most charming woman in the world. That he expressed himself with so much self-control and propriety when he asked her to marry him was wholly due to the manner of his education and training in the social proprieties. That a man should use any language warmer or less guarded than that of absolutely respectful and distant courtesy toward the lady he intended to make his wife was not conceivable to him. In the privacy of his own rooms he wors.h.i.+pped and adored her with all his might and main, but when he addressed her in person it was as a subject addresses his sovereign; a tone of respectful and submissive reverence and obedience pervaded his actions and his words. He would have pleased a woman who loved sovereignty, better than a woman who dreamed of a sovereign love.
But she was never out of his thoughts, and if he wooed her humbly, he antic.i.p.ated some submission on her part after marriage. He had no idea of always allowing her mind to wander in the strange channels it seemed to prefer. He thought such an intelligence capable of better things, and he determined, half unconsciously at first, and as a matter of course, that Miss Carnethy, the philosopher, should be known before long as the Marchesa Carantoni, the Catholic. Gradually the idea grew upon him, until he saw it as the grand object of his life, the great good deed he was to do. His love consented to it, and was purified and beautified to him in the thought that by it he should lead a great soul like hers to truth and light. He was perfectly in earnest, as he always was in matters of importance; for of all nations and peoples Italians have been most accused of frivolity, heartlessness, and inconstancy, and of all races they perhaps deserve the accusation least. They are the least imaginative people on earth, apart from the creative arts, and the most simple and earnest men in the matter of love. Northern races hate Italians, and they fasten triumphantly on that unlucky Latin sinner who falls first in their way as the prototype of his nation, and as the b.u.t.t of their own prejudice. In the eyes of most northern people all Italians are liars; just as a typical Frenchman calls England ”perfide Albion,”
and all Englishmen traitors and thieves. Who shall decide when such doctors disagree? And is it not a proverb that there is honour among thieves?
Marcantonio never spoke of these ideas of his to his friends when they congratulated him on his engagement. He only looked supremely happy, and told every one that he was, which was quite true. But his sister was to him a great difficulty, for she evidently was disappointed and displeased. He debated within himself how he should appease her, and he determined to lay before her his views about Leonora's future. To that intent he visited her in the boudoir, where they had so often talked before the engagement.
Madame de Charleroi received him as usual, but there was a look in her eyes that he was not accustomed to see there,--an expression of protest, just inclining to coldness, which had the effect of rousing his instinct of opposition. With his other friends he had found no occasion for being combative, and his old manner had sufficed; but with his sister he found himself involuntarily preparing for war, though his intentions were in reality pacific enough. Marcantonio was very young, in spite of his nine and twenty years. His manner now, as he met his sister, was a trifle more formal than usual, and he bent his brows and pulled his black moustache as he sat down.
”Carissima Diana,” he began, ”I must speak with you about my marriage, and many things.”
”Yes,--what is it?” asked his sister, calmly, as she turned a piece of tapestry on her knee to finish the end of a needleful of silk.
Marcantonio had somehow expected her to say something that he could take hold of and oppose. Her bland question confused him.
”You are not pleased,” he began awkwardly.
”What would you have?” she asked, still busy with her work. ”I am sure I told you what I thought about it long ago.”
”I want you to change your mind,” said Marcantonio, delighted at the first show of opposition. Madame de Charleroi raised her eyebrows, gave a little sigh of annoyance, and turned towards him.
”I will always treat your wife with the highest consideration,” she said, as though that settled the matter and she wished to drop the subject. But her brother was not satisfied.
”I wish you to love her, Diana; I wish you to treat her as your sister.”
Donna Diana was silent, and Marcantonio s.h.i.+fted his position uneasily, for he did not know exactly what to do, and he saw that he was failing in his mission. But in a moment his heart guided him. He went and sat beside her, and laid his hand on hers.
”We cannot quarrel, dear,” he said. ”But will you love her if I make her like you--if I make her thoughts as beautiful as yours?”
Donna Diana's face softened as she turned to him and affectionately pressed his hand.
”I will try to love her for your sake, dear boy,” she answered gently; and he kissed her fingers in thanks.
”Dear Diana,” he said, ”you are so good! But you know she is really not at all like what you fancy her. She is full of heart, and so wonderfully delicate and lovely,--and so marvellously intelligent. There is nothing she does not know. She has read all the philosophies”--
”Yes, I know she has,” interrupted his sister, as though deprecating the discussion of Miss Carnethy's wisdom.
”But not as you think,” he protested, catching the meaning of her tone.
”She has read them all, but she will take what is best from each, and I am quite sure she will be a good Catholic before long.”