Part 28 (1/2)
”I think you are right, conte. The beauties of nature and of humanity are so varied and profound that were it not for the inextinguishable longing after immortality which has been placed in every one of us, I think we should be perfectly satisfied with this world as it is.”
”You speak like an artist and a man of even temperament,” broke in the Marchese Gualdro, who had finished his soup quickly in order to be able to talk--talking being his chief delight. ”For me, I am never contented. I never have enough of anything! That is my nature. When I see lovely flowers, I wish more of them--when I behold a fine sunset, I desire many more such sunsets--when I look upon a lovely woman--”
”You would have lovely women ad infinitum!” laughed the French Capitaine de Hamal. ”En verite, Gualdro, you should have been a Turk!”
”And why not?” demanded Gualdro. ”The Turks are very sensible people--they know how to make coffee better than we do. And what more fascinating than a harem? It must be like a fragrant hot-house, where one is free to wander every day, sometimes gathering a gorgeous lily, sometimes a simple violet--sometimes--” ”A thorn?” suggested Sal.u.s.tri.
”Well, perhaps!” laughed the Marchese. ”Yet one would run the risk of that for the sake of a perfect rose.”
Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his b.u.t.ton-hole the decoration of the Legion d'Honneur, looked up--he was a thin man with keen eyes and a shrewd face which, though at a first glance appeared stern, could at the least provocation break up into a thousand little wrinkles of laughter.
”There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the idea,” he observed, in his methodical way. ”I have always fancied that marriage as we arrange it is a great mistake.”
”And that is why you have never tried it?” queried Ferrari, looking amused.
”Certissimamente!” and the chevalier's grim countenance began to work with satirical humor. ”I have resolved that I will never be bound over by the law to kiss only one woman. As matters stand, I can kiss them all if I like.”
A shout of merriment and cries of ”Oh! oh!” greeted this remark, which Ferrari, however, did not seem inclined to take in good part.
”All?” he said, with a dubious air. ”You mean all except the married ones?”
The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with a sort of comic severity.
”When I said ALL, I meant all,” he returned--”the married ones in particular. They, poor things, need such attentions--and often invite them--why not? Their husbands have most likely ceased to be amorous after the first months of marriage.”
I burst out laughing. ”You are right, Mancini,” I said; ”and even if the husbands are fools enough to continue their gallantries they deserve to be duped--and they generally are! Come, amico.'” I added, turning to Ferrari, ”those are your own sentiments--you have often declared them to me.”
He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I could easily perceive that he was annoyed. To change the tone of the conversation I gave a signal for the music to recommence, and instantly the melody of a slow, voluptuous Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room.
The dinner was now fairly on its way; the appet.i.tes of my guests were stimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory viands, prepared with all the taste and intelligence a first rate chef can bestow on his work, and good wine flowed freely.
Vincenzo obediently following my instructions, stood behind my chair, and seldom moved except to refill Ferrari's gla.s.s, and occasionally to proffer some fresh vintage to the Duke di Marina. He, however, was an abstemious and careful man, and followed the good example shown by the wisest Italians, who never mix their wines. He remained faithful to the first beverage he had selected--a specially fine Chianti, of which he partook freely without its causing the slightest flush to appear on his pale aristocratic features. Its warm and mellow flavor did but brighten his eyes and loosen his tongue, inasmuch that he became almost as elegant a talker as the Marchese Gualdro. This latter, who scarce had a scudo to call his own, and who dined sumptuously every day at other people's expense for the sake of the pleasure his company afforded, was by this time entertaining every one near him by the most sparkling stories and witty pleasantries.
The merriment increased as the various courses were served; shouts of laughter frequently interrupted the loud buzz of conversation, mingling with the clinking of gla.s.ses and clattering of porcelain. Every now and then might be heard the smooth voice of Captain Freccia rolling out his favorite oaths with the sonority and expression of a primo tenore; sometimes the elegant French of the Marquis D'Avencourt, with his high, sing-song Parisian accent, rang out above the voices of the others; and again, the choice Tuscan of the poet Luziano Sal.u.s.tri rolled forth in melodious cadence as though he were chanting lines from Dante or Ariosto, instead of talking lightly on indifferent matters. I accepted my share in the universal hilarity, though I princ.i.p.ally divided my conversation between Ferrari and the duke, paying to both, but specially to Ferrari, that absolute attention which is the greatest compliment a host can bestow on those whom he undertakes to entertain.
We had reached that stage of the banquet when the game was about to be served--the invisible choir of boys' voices had just completed an enchanting stornello with an accompaniment of mandolines--when a stillness, strange and unaccountable, fell upon the company--a pause--an ominous hush, as though some person supreme in authority had suddenly entered the room and commanded ”Silence!” No one seemed disposed to speak or to move, the very footsteps of the waiters were m.u.f.fled in the velvet pile of the carpets--no sound was heard but the measured plash of the fountain that played among the ferns and flowers.
The moon, s.h.i.+ning frostily white through the one uncurtained window, cast a long pale green ray, like the extended arm of an appealing ghost, against one side of the velvet hangings--a spectral effect which was heightened by the contrast of the garish glitter of the waxen tapers. Each man looked at the other with a sort of uncomfortable embarra.s.sment, and somehow, though I moved my lips in an endeavor to speak and thus break the spell, I was at a loss, and could find no language suitable to the moment. Ferrari toyed with his wine-gla.s.s mechanically--the duke appeared absorbed in arranging the crumbs beside his plate into little methodical patterns; the stillness seemed to last so long that it was like a suffocating heaviness in the air. Suddenly Vincenzo, in his office of chief butler, drew the cork of a champagne-bottle with a loud-sounding pop! We all started as though a pistol had been fired in our ears, and the Marchese Gualdro burst out laughing.
”Corpo di Baceo!” he cried. ”At last you have awakened from sleep! Were you all struck dumb, amici, that you stared at the table-cloth so persistently and with such admirable gravity? May Saint Anthony and his pig preserve me, but for the time I fancied I was attending a banquet on the wrong side of the Styx, and that you, my present companions, were all dead men!”
”And that idea made YOU also hold your tongue, which is quite an unaccountable miracle in its way,” laughed Luziano Sal.u.s.tri. ”Have you never heard the pretty legend that attaches to such an occurrence as a sudden silence in the midst of high festivity? An angel enters, bestowing his benediction as he pa.s.ses through.”
”That story is more ancient than the church,” said Chevalier Mancini.
”It is an exploded theory--for we have ceased to believe in angels--we call them women instead.”
”Bravo, mon vieux gaillard!” cried Captain de Hamal. ”Your sentiments are the same as mine, with a very trifling difference. You believe women to be angels--I know them to be devils--mas il n'y agu'un pas entre es deux? We will not quarrel over a word--a votre sante, mon cher!”
And he drained his gla.s.s, nodding to Mancini, who followed his example.
”Perhaps,” said the smooth, slow voice of Captain Freccia, ”our silence was caused by the instinctive consciousness of something wrong with our party--a little inequality--which I dare say our n.o.ble host has not thought it worth while to mention.”