Part 15 (2/2)
I paused a moment before replying. Could I speak of that unstained sacred life of wifehood and motherhood to this polluted though lovely creature?
”She was a beautiful woman unconscious of her beauty,” I answered at last. ”There, all is said. Her sole aim seemed to be to forget herself in making others happy, and to surround her home with an atmosphere of goodness and virtue. She died young.”
Ferrari glanced at me with an evil sneer in his eyes.
”That was fortunate,” he said. ”She had no time to tire of her husband, else--who knows?”
My blood rose rapidly to an astonis.h.i.+ng heat, but I controlled myself.
”I do not understand you,” I said, with marked frigidity. ”The lady I speak of lived and died under the old regime of n.o.blesse oblige. I am not so well versed in modern social forms of morality as yourself.”
Nina hastily interposed. ”Oh, my dear conte,” she said, laughingly, ”pay no attention to Signor Ferrari! He is rash sometimes, and says very foolish things, but he really does not mean them. It is only his way! My poor dear husband used to be quite vexed with him sometimes, though he WAS so fond of him. But, conte, as you know so much about the family, I am sure you will like to see my little Stella. Shall I send for her, or are you bored by children?”
”On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them,” I answered, with forced composure, though my heart throbbed with mingled delight and agony at the thought of seeing my little one again. ”And the child of my old friend's son must needs have a double interest for me.”
My wife rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid who answered it to send her little girl to her at once. Ferrari meanwhile engaged me in conversation, and strove, I could see, by entire deference to my opinions, to make up for any offense his previous remark might have given. A few moments pa.s.sed--and then the handle of the drawing-room door was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and unpracticed hand.
Nina called out impatiently--”Come in, baby! Do not be afraid--come in!” With that the door slowly opened and my little daughter entered.
Though I had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to see the child had changed very much. Her face looked pinched and woe-begone, its expression was one of fear and distrust. The laughter had faded out of her young eyes, and was replaced by a serious look of pained resignation that was pitiful to see in one of her tender years.
Her mouth drooped plaintively at the corners--her whole demeanor had an appealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and enlightened me as to the way she had evidently been forgotten and neglected. She approached us hesitatingly, but stopped half-way and looked doubtfully at Ferrari. He met her alarmed gaze with a mocking smile.
”Come along, Stella!” he said. ”You need not be frightened! I will not scold you unless you are naughty. Silly child! you look as if I were the giant in the fairy tale, going to eat you up for dinner. Come and speak to this gentleman--he knew your papa.”
At this word her eyes brightened, her small steps grew more a.s.sured and steady--she advanced and put her tiny hand in mine. The touch of the soft, uncertain little fingers almost unmanned me. I drew her toward me and lifted her on my knee. Under pretense of kissing her I hid my face for a second or two in her cl.u.s.tering fair curls, while I forced back the womanish tears that involuntarily filled my eyes. My poor little darling! I wonder now how I maintained my set composure before the innocent thoughtfulness of her gravely questioning gaze! I had fancied she might possibly be scared by the black spectacles I wore--children are frightened by such things sometimes--but she was not. No; she sat on my knee with an air of perfect satisfaction, though she looked at me so earnestly as almost to disturb my self-possession. Nina and Ferrari watched her with some amus.e.m.e.nt, but she paid no heed to them--she persisted in staring at me. Suddenly a slow sweet smile--the tranquil smile of a contented baby, dawned all over her face; she extended her little arms, and, of her own accord, put up her lips to kiss me! Half startled at this manifestation of affection, I hurriedly caught her to my heart and returned her caress, then I looked furtively at my wife and Guido. Had they any suspicion? No! why should they have any? Had not Ferrari himself seen me BURIED? Rea.s.sured by this thought I addressed myself to Stella, making my voice as gratingly harsh as I could, for I dreaded the child's quick instinct.
”You are a very charming little lady!” I said, playfully. ”And so your name is Stella? That is because you are a little star, I suppose?”
She became meditative. ”Papa said I was,” she answered, softly and shyly.
”Papa spoiled you!” interposed Nina, pressing a filmy black-bordered handkerchief to her eyes. ”Poor papa! You were not so naughty to him as you are to me.”
The child's lip quivered, but she was silent.
”Oh, fy!” I murmured, half chidingly. ”Are you ever naughty? Surely not! All little stars are good--they never cry--they are always bright and calm.”
Still she remained mute--a sigh, deep enough for an older sufferer, heaved her tiny breast. She leaned her head against my arm and raised her eyes appealingly.
”Have you seen my papa?” she asked, timidly. ”Will he come back soon?”
For a moment I did not answer her. Ferrari took it upon himself to reply roughly. ”Don't talk nonsense, baby! You know your papa has gone away--you were too naughty for him, and he will never come back again.
He has gone to a place where there are no tiresome little girls to tease him.”
Thoughtless and cruel words! I at once understood the secret grief that weighed on the child's mind. Whenever she was fretful or petulant, they evidently impressed it upon her that her father had left her because of her naughtiness. She had taken this deeply to heart; no doubt she had brooded upon it in her own vague childish fas.h.i.+on, and had puzzled her little brain as to what she could possibly have done to displease her father so greatly that he had actually gone away never to return.
Whatever her thoughts were, she did not on this occasion give vent to them by tears or words. She only turned her eyes on Ferrari with a look of intense pride and scorn, strange to see in so little a creature--a true Romani look, such as I had often noticed in my father's eyes, and such as I knew must be frequently visible in my own. Ferrari saw it, and burst out laughing loudly.
”There!” he exclaimed. ”Like that she exactly resembles her father! It is positively ludicrous! Fabio, all over! She only wants one thing to make the portrait perfect.” And approaching her, he s.n.a.t.c.hed one of her long curls and endeavored to twist it over her mouth in the form of a mustache. The child struggled angrily, and hid her face against my coat. The more she tried to defend herself the greater the malice with which Ferrari tormented her. Her mother did not interfere--she only laughed. I held the little thing closely sheltered in my embrace, and steadying down the quiver of indignation in my voice, I said with quiet firmness:
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