Part 16 (2/2)
Graceful sallies, witty bon-mots tipped with the pungent sparkle of satire, gay stories well and briskly told, all came easily from her lips, so that though I knew her so well, she almost surprised me by her variety and fluency. Yet this gift of good conversation in a woman is apt to mislead the judgment of those who listen, for it is seldom the result of thought, and still more seldom is it a proof of intellectual capacity. A woman talks as a brook babbles; pleasantly, but without depth. Her information is generally of the most surface kind--she skims the cream off each item of news, and serves it up to you in her own fas.h.i.+on, caring little whether it be correct or the reverse. And the more vivaciously she talks, the more likely she is to be dangerously insincere and cold-hearted, for the very sharpness of her wit is apt to spoil the more delicate perceptions of her nature. Show me a brilliant woman noted for turning an epigram or pointing a satire, and I will show you a creature whose life is a masquerade, full of vanity, sensuality and pride. The man who marries such a one must be content to take the second place in his household, and play the character of the henpecked husband with what meekness he best may. Answer me, ye long suffering spouses of ”society women” how much would you give to win back your freedom and self-respect? to be able to hold your head up unabashed before your own servants? to feel that you can actually give an order without its being instantly countermanded? Ah, my poor friends! millions will not purchase you such joy; as long as your fascinating fair ones are like Caesar's wife, ”above suspicion” (and they are generally prudent managers), so long must you dance in their chains like the good-natured clumsy bears that you are, only giving vent to a growl now and then; a growl which at best only excites ridicule. My wife was of the true world worldly; never had I seen her real character so plainly as now, when she exerted herself to entertain and charm me. I had thought her spirituelle, ethereal, angelic! never was there less of an angel than she! While she talked, I was quick to observe the changes on Ferrari's countenance. He became more silent and sullen as her brightness and cordiality increased. I would not appear aware of the growing stiffness in his demeanor; I continued to draw him into the conversation, forcing him to give opinions on various subjects connected with the art of which he was professedly a follower. He was very reluctant to speak at all; and when compelled to do so, his remarks were curt and almost snappish, so much so that my wife made a laughing comment on his behavior.
”You are positively ill-tempered, Guido!” she exclaimed, then remembering she had addressed him by his Christian name, she turned to me and added--”I always call him Guido, en famille; you know he is just like a brother to me.”
He looked at her and his eyes flashed dangerously, but he was mute.
Nina was evidently pleased to see him in such a vexed mood; she delighted to pique his pride, and as he steadily gazed at her in a sort of reproachful wonder, she laughed joyously. Then rising from the table, she made us a coquettish courtesy.
”I will leave you two gentlemen to finish your wine together,” she said, ”I know all men love to talk a little scandal, and they must be alone to enjoy it. Afterward, will you join me in the veranda? You will find coffee ready.”
I hastened to open the door for her as she pa.s.sed out smiling; then, returning to the table, I poured out more wine for myself and Ferrari, who sat gloomily eying his own reflection in the broad polished rim of a silver fruit-dish that stood near him. Giacomo, the butler, had long ago left the room; we were entirely alone. I thought over my plans for a moment or two; the game was as interesting as a problem in chess.
With the deliberation of a prudent player I made my next move.
”A lovely woman!” I murmured, meditatively, sipping my wine, ”and intelligent also. I admire your taste, signor!”
He started violently. ”What--what do you mean?” he demanded, half fiercely. I stroked my mustache and smiled at him benevolently.
”Ah, young blood! young blood!” I sighed, shaking my head, ”it will have its way! My good sir, why be ashamed of your feelings? I heartily sympathize with you; if the lady does not appreciate the affection of so ardent and gallant an admirer, then she is foolish indeed! It is not every woman who has such a chance of happiness.”
”You think--you imagine that--that--I--”
”That you are in love with her?” I said, composedly. ”Ma--certamente!
And why not? It is as it should be. Even the late conte could wish no fairer fate for his beautiful widow than that she should become the wife of his chosen friend. Permit me to drink your health! Success to your love!” And I drained my gla.s.s as I finished speaking, Unfortunate fool! He was completely disarmed; his suspicions of me melted away like mist before the morning light. His face cleared--he seized my hand and pressed it warmly.
”Forgive me, conte,” he said, with remorseful fervor; ”I fear I have been rude and unsociable. Your kind words have put me right again. You will think me a jealous madman, but I really fancied that you were beginning to feel an attraction for her yourself, and actually--(pardon me, I entreat of you!) actually I was making up my mind to--to kill you!”
I laughed quietly. ”Veramente! How very amiable of you! It was a good intention, but you know what place is paved with similar designs?”
”Ah, conte, it is like your generosity to take my confession so lightly; but I a.s.sure you, for the last hour I have been absolutely wretched!”
”After the fas.h.i.+on of all lovers, I suppose,” I answered ”torturing yourself without necessity! Well, well, it is very amusing! My young friend, when you come to my time of life, you will prefer the c.h.i.n.k of gold to the laughter and kisses of women. How often must I repeat to you that I am a man absolutely indifferent to the tender pa.s.sion?
Believe it or not, it is true.”
He drank off his wine at one gulp and spoke with some excitement.
”Then I will frankly confide in you. I DO love the contessa. Love! it is too weak a word to describe what I feel. The touch of her hand thrills me, her very voice seems to shake my soul, her eyes burn through me! Ah! YOU cannot know--YOU could not understand the joy, the pain--”
”Calm yourself,” I said, in a cold tone, watching my victim as his pent-up emotion betrayed itself, ”The great thing is to keep the head cool when the blood burns. You think she loves you?”
”Think! Gran Dio! She has--” here he paused and his face flushed deeply--”nay! I have no right to say anything on that score. I know she never cared for her husband.”
”I know that too!” I answered, steadily. ”The most casual observer cannot fail to notice it.”
”Well, and no wonder!” he exclaimed, warmly. ”He was such an undemonstrative fool! What business had such a fellow as that to marry so exquisite a creature!”
My heart leaped with a sudden impulse of fury, but I controlled my voice and answered calmly:
”Requiescat in pace! He is dead--let him rest. Whatever his faults, his wife of course was true to him while he lived; she considered him worthy of fidelity--is it not so?”
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