Part 39 (1/2)

A deep flush covered her face at these words, so palpably alluding to herself, and she tried to repeat her question.

”No,” said he, ”I cannot say I have ever studied: all that I have done is full of faults; but I feel the spring of better things within me.

Tell me, is this _your_ home?”

”Yes,” said she, smiling faintly. ”I live in the villa here with my aunt. She has purchased your statue, and wishes you to repair it, and then to engage in some other work for her. Let me a.s.sist you to rise; you seem very weak.”

”I _am_ weak, and weary too,” said he, staggering to a seat. ”I have overworked myself, perhaps,--I scarcely know. Do not take away your hand.”

”And you are, then, the Sebastian Greppi of whom Carrara is so proud?”

”They call me Sebastian Greppi; but I never heard that my name was spoken of with any honor.”

”You are unjust to your own fame. We have often heard of you. See, here are two models taken from your works. They have been my studies for many a day. I have often wished to see you, and ask if my attempt were rightly begun. Then here is a hand.”

”Let me model yours,” said the youth, gazing steadfastly at the beautifully shaped one which rested on the chair beside him.

”Come with me to the villa, and I will present you to my aunt; she will be pleased to know you. There, lean on my arm, for I see you are very weak.”

”Why are you so kind, so good to me?” said he, faintly, while a tear rose slowly to his eye.

He arose totteringly, and, taking her arm, walked slowly along at her side. As they went, she spoke kindly and encouragingly to him, praised what she had seen of his works, and said how frequently she had wished to know him, and enjoy the benefit of his counsels in art. ”For I, too,”

said she, laughing, ”would be a sculptor.”

The youth stopped to gaze at her with a rapture he could not control.

That one of such a station, surrounded by all the appliances of a luxurious existence, could devote herself to the toil and labor of art, implied an amount of devotion and energy that at once elevated her in his esteem. She blushed deeply at his continued stare, and turned at last away.

”Oh, do not feel offended with me,” cried he, pa.s.sionately. ”If you but knew how your words have relighted within me the dying-out embers of an almost exhausted ambition,--if you but knew how my heart has gained courage and hope,--how light and brightness have shone in upon me after hours and days of gloom! It was but yesterday I had resolved to abandon this career forever. I was bent on a new life, in a new world beyond the seas. These few things that a faithful companion of mine had charged himself to dispose of, were to supply the means of the journey; and now I think of it no more. I shall remain here to work hard and study, and try to achieve what may one day be called good. You will sometimes deign to see what I am doing, to tell me if my efforts are on the road to success, to give me hope when I am weak-hearted, and courage when I am faint. I know and feel,” said he, proudly, ”that I am not devoid of what accomplishes success, for I can toil and toil, and throw my whole soul into my work; but for this I need, at least, one who shall watch me with an eye of interest, glorying when I win, sorrowing when I am defeated.--Where are we? What palace is this?” cried he, as they crossed a s.p.a.cious hall paved with porphyry and Sienna marble.

”This is my home,” said the girl, ”and this is its mistress.”

Just as she spoke, she presented the youth to a lady, who, reclining on a sofa beside a window, gazed out towards the sea. She turned suddenly, and fixed her eyes on the stranger. With a wild start, she sprang up, and, staring eagerly at him, cried, ”Who is this? Where does he come from?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: frontispiece]

The young girl told his name and what he was; but the words did not fall on listening ears, and the lady sat like one spell-bound, with eyes riveted on the youth's face.

”Am I like any one you have known, signora?” asked he, as he read the effect his presence had produced on her. ”Do I recall some other features?”

”You do,” said she, reddening painfully.

”And the memory is not of pleasure?” added the youth.

”Far, far from it; it is the saddest and cruelest of all my life,”

muttered she, half to herself. ”What part of Italy are you from? Your accent is Southern.”

”It is the accent of Naples, signora,” said he, evading her question.

”And your mother, was she Neapolitan?”

”I know little of my birth, signora. It is a theme I would not be questioned on.”