Part 17 (1/2)
The second person who suffered a surprise was no less a man than the Count of Fieramondi himself. But how this came about needs a little more explanation.
In that very room through whose doorway Captain Dieppe had first beheld the lady whom he now wors.h.i.+pped with a devotion as ardent as it was unhappy, there were now two ladies engaged in conversation. One sat in an arm-chair, nursing the yellow cat of which mention has been made earlier in this history; the other walked up and down with every appearance of weariness, trouble, and distress on her handsome face.
”Oh, the Bishop was just as bad as the banker,” she cried fretfully, ”and the banker was just as silly as the Bishop. The Bishop said that, although he might have considered the question of giving me absolution from a vow which I had been practically compelled to take, he could hold out no prospect of my getting it beforehand for taking a vow which I took with no other intention than that of breaking it.”
”I told you he 'd say that before you went,” observed the lady in the arm-chair, who seemed to be treating the situation with a coolness in strong contrast to her companion's agitation.
”And the banker said that although, if I had actually spent fifty thousand lire more than I possessed, he would have done his best to see how he could extricate me from the trouble, he certainly would not help me to get fifty thousand for the express purpose of throwing them away.”
”I thought the banker would say that,” remarked the other lady, caressing the cat.
”And they both advised me to take my husband's opinion on the matter.
My husband's opinion!” Her tone was bitter and tragic indeed. ”I suppose they 're right,” she said, flinging herself dejectedly into a chair. ”I must tell Andrea everything. Oh, and he 'll forgive me!”
”Well, I should think it's rather nice being forgiven.”
”Oh, no, not by Andrea!” The faintest smile flitted for an instant across her face. ”Oh, no, Andrea does n't forgive like that. His forgiveness is very--well, horribly biblical, you know. Oh, I 'd better not have gone to Rome at all!”
”I never saw any good in your going to Rome, you know.”
”Yes, I must tell him everything. Because Paul de Roustache is sure to come and--”
”He 's come already,” observed the second lady, calmly.
”What? Come?”
The other lady set down the cat, rose to her feet, took out of her pocket a gold ring and a gold locket, walked over to her companion, and held them out to her. ”These are yours, are n't they?” she inquired, and broke into a merry laugh. The sight brought nothing but an astonished stare and a breathless e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n--
”Lucia!”
The two ladies drew their chairs close together, and a long conversation ensued, Lucia being the chief narrator, while her companion, whom she addressed from time to time as Emilia, did little more than listen and throw in exclamations of wonder, surprise, or delight.
”How splendidly you kept the secret!” she cried once. And again, ”How lucky that he should be here!” And again, ”I thought he looked quite charming.” And once again, ”But, goodness, what a state the poor man must be in! How could you help telling him, Lucia?”
”I had promised,” said Lucia, solemnly, ”and I keep my promises, Emilia.”
”And that man has positively gone?” sighed Emilia, taking no notice of a rather challenging emphasis which Lucia had laid on her last remark.
”Yes, gone for good--I 'm sure of it. And you need n't tell Andrea anything. Just take all the vows he asks you to! But he won't now; you see he wants a reconciliation as much as you do.”
”I shall insist on taking at least one vow,” said Emilia, with a virtuous air. She stopped and started. ”But what in the world am I to say about you, my dear?” she asked.
”Say I 've just come back from Rome, of course,” responded Lucia.
”If he should find out--”
”It 's very unlikely, and at the worst you must take another vow, Emilia. But Andrea 'll never suspect the truth unless--”
”Unless what?”
”Unless Captain Dieppe lets it out, you know.”